The next instant Barbara realized her own absurdity. Was she not in her way doing just what Dick had done, only of course far less nobly and well? And after all, were not men and women fighting for the right, brothers and sisters in the divinest sense?
When Dick Thornton finally opened his eyes Barbara was crying in earnest. It was ridiculous and utterly undignified of her. Here she had done the bravest kind of deed quickly and efficiently, but now that she should be showing all the calmness of a well-regulated trained nurse, she had taken to weeping.
Of course, Dick did not return at once to a full understanding of the situation. For to Barbara’s credit it must be said that while she was indulging in tears she was also bandaging Dick’s forehead with all possible skill. It was perhaps the touch of her hands that had awakened him.
For a moment he gazed at the girl stupidly. But when her work was finished and his head again rested quietly in her lap, Dick endeavored to look about him. A movement made him faint with pain, yet he could turn his eyes without stirring. Vaguely he saw the overturned ambulance in front of them, heard faint moans on the inside. Then there was the field. He recalled driving like mad across it and the explosion that had plunged him out of the car. What had taken place was becoming fairly clear except for the presence of his little western friend. What on earth was Barbara Meade doing here in a desperately dangerous situation? He remembered now having seen her assisting one of the surgeons inside the hospital tent earlier in the day. At least he believed he had seen her; there had been no moment then even for thought.
But what must he do now?
“Barbara,” Dick began with surprising firmness, “you must get out of this death trap at once. The Lord only knows how you got here! Some one will look after us as soon as there is half a chance.”
But Dick’s last words were lost. Over in the dust a few feet from the place where he had first fallen a piece of broken shell fell with a kind of shriek. Stone and earth shot up in the air like a geyser and falling again partly covered the young man and Barbara and also the white sides of the ambulance.
“Don’t talk, Dick,” Barbara returned firmly. “You are right, some one will look after us as soon as possible.”
Perhaps another five minutes passed, perhaps half an hour; there is no way of counting time in danger. Now and then a bullet or a piece of shrapnel passed beyond them or sunk into the earth at no great distance away. Dick again lost consciousness, Barbara remained almost equally still. Whatever fate might send they must accept.
But while Barbara Meade had given no thought to the nearness of the relief hospital and the men and women at work there, when she had made her swift rush to Dick Thornton’s aid, naturally the overturning of the Red Cross ambulance had not gone long unobserved.