“Mercy! No. Do you suppose we did really see anything that night?”
“Don’t know. I know there was an attack made upon this sector two nights after that, and a raid on an artillery base that we were keeping particularly secret from the Boches. Somebody must have told them.”
“The Germans are always flying over and photographing everything,” said Ruth doubtfully.
“Not that battery. Had it camouflaged and only worked on it nights. The Boches put a barrage right behind it and sent over troops who did a lot of damage.
“Believe me! You don’t know to what lengths these German spies and German-lovers go. You don’t know who is true and who is false about you. And the most ingenious schemes they have,” added Charlie.
“They have tried secret wireless right here—within two miles. But the radio makes too much noise and is sure to be spotted at last. In one place telegraph wires were carried for several miles through the bed of a stream and the spy on this side walked about with the telegraph instrument in his pocket. When he got a chance he went to the hut near the river bank, where the ends of the wire were insulated, and tapped out his messages.
“And pigeons! Don’t say a word. They’re flying all the time, and sometimes they are shot and the quills found under their wings. I tell you spies just swarm all along this front.”
“Then,” Ruth said, ruminatingly, “it must have been a dog we saw that night.”
“The werwolf?” asked Charlie, with a grin.
“That is nonsense. It is a dog trained to run between the spy on this side and somebody behind the German lines. Poor dog!”