“No, Duncan, you are not going to do anything of the kind!” Don said in horror. “I won’t consent to this being anything irregular. You may go along and see them shot, if you want to, but you can’t knife them. Hold on there! Put that knife up, or I’m going to shoot it out of your fingers. It would just about break my heart to hurt you, old man, because I know you’re good stuff, but don’t try that thing. Come, you’ve got more white blood in you than Indian and don’t imitate these Huns.” Duncan stood looking earnestly at Don while he spoke. Then, without a word, he put his long-bladed claspknife into his pocket. “You take my car, because it’s surer than this one, and get these chaps where they’ll do no more harm. I’ll run their car and I’ll have them send out for yours and fix it. I hope they’ll let you get into the squad that does the shooting.” “I don’t like to deprive you of your own car,” Duncan said. It was easy to see that the fellow was true-blue, even if an act of savagery made his blood boil with desire for personal revenge. “Your errand is more important than mine,” Don continued. “Besides, I’m glad, for Stapley and I would be sure to scrap on the way. I’d have to rub it in about his letting these men get away on the hill. And Stapley can’t take anything from me good-naturedly. He can explain to you later what he thinks of me. I know already and I don’t care a hoot. Come, Wash, climb out of there! We’ve got to see if we can make this ramshackle ambulance travel. So long, Duncan.” The military court gave the spies short shrift. Duncan was one of the firing squad that did quick executions. The army _ambulancier_ then went his way. Before morning he was again driving his own ambulance and Don Richards’ car had been turned over to him and the grinning Wash. Work on Hill 165 had been finished. “The marines are going to try to take Bouresches and Belleau Wood to-day, I hear,” Don said to Duncan, as they met on the road. “I wish I was in that bunch of real men,” Duncan replied and passed on. That was the last Don ever saw of the brave fellow, for Duncan was shifted north of the Oise River where another Hun drive seemed imminent, as they were short of ambulances in that sector. Don’s orders were to run in close to the American fighting forces without too grave risk, and if there was an advance, to keep pretty near to it, as there would necessarily be many casualties. As the Germans had learned already to recognize the Yanks as their most formidable foes, they were sending some of their best troops to stop them. The Red Cross was showing splendid efficiency now. From stretcher bearers to dressing stations, from its own evacuation hospitals to ideally equipped bases and convalescent camps, it was the model for all things humane in warfare. Eager were its men and women in doing their share of the arduous and dangerous work, and proud, indeed, those who were identified in any way with its glorious efforts.