Grace thanked the soldier and also shook hands with Won, then leaning forward she whispered in his ear, “Watch the plidgins and tell me.” Grace heard him chuckle and knew that it was all right. Elfreda demanded to know what she was doing, but Grace merely laughed and started on after the military police, who were carrying their equipment. The lorry proved to be a most comfortable place, though the girls knew they would be somewhat cramped for room. Several cases of supplies were removed by the men and stowed forward back of the driver’s seat. Two pairs of blankets were produced, which Grace was quite certain had been hooked from another truck, and dumped into their sleeping place. “I reckon that’s all we can do for you to-night,” announced the M. P. “Sorry we can’t do more.” “You have done quite enough and we are grateful,” replied Grace earnestly. “I know we shall have a fine night’s sleep in our--” “Rolling bedroom,” finished Elfreda. “Yes. Perhaps we may dream that we are gypsies. I fear I should just love that vagabond life.” “No need to tell me that, Grace Harlowe. I have known it for a long time. Suppose we make our beds and retire. Good-night, Buddies.” “Yes, good-night, and thank you all again,” added Grace. “We’ll just hook down the tailpiece so in case of storm you won’t get wet. Here’s my club. Should any one bother you, bat him over the head and yell for me. I’ll be on till four in the morning. Good-night.” The M. P. pulled down the canvas tailpiece and secured it, then the girls heard them going away. “Even if the M. P.’s _are_ ‘winning the war’ they’re real Americans,” concluded Miss Briggs. “Are you going to undress?” Grace said she was not, so they removed their blouses, rolled in their blankets and promptly went to sleep. It was some hours later when Grace Harlowe heard shouting, listened half asleep, then went back into dreamland. Some time later she sat up wide awake. The truck was swaying from side to side, jolting disagreeably, and the horn up forward was honking like a frightened wild goose leader warning its flock. She knew instantly what had happened. The army train was under motion and they were going with it. This was rather more than she had bargained for, and quickly pulling an edge of the tailpiece aside, opening a narrow slit, the Overton girl peered out. The scene was an unfamiliar one. They were out in the country and there was no sign of the village where they had been only a few minutes before, as it seemed to her. “Why, we must have been out for some time,” she marveled. “Br-r-r!” Rain was falling, the wind was blowing a gale, and marching columns that they were passing were soaked and the faces of the men wore surly expressions. “No balloon flight to-day, so I suppose I might as well let well enough alone and take what the kind fates have bestowed upon me,” concluded the Overton girl. “Poor Elfreda doesn’t know anything about it. I think I shall go back to sleep.”