But it wasn't a "he" at all. As the body fell back limply over my arm, a campaign hat tumbled earthward. Soft brown hair cascaded from beneath it. The driver was a girl! I had ammonia tubes in my first-aid kit. I snapped one beneath her nose, jolted her back to awareness. And she proved her femininity by coming out of it with a question on her lips. "Who--who are you?" "O'Shea," I said, "commanding a detachment from the Army of the Upper Ohio. Marching to join Preston's brigade at Louisville. But never mind that. Who are _you_? Where do you think you're going?" She said, "Louisville!" In the darkness her face was a white blur, drab, expressionless, but there was a touch of hysteria to her voice. "Louisville! But haven't you got a radio? Didn't you know--" We hadn't. It didn't make sense. As she faltered, I snapped, "Know what? Go on!" "Louisville has fallen. The Toties have taken Fort Knox. Our troops are destroyed, the government has fled, and the Army of the Democracies is in utter rout!" I stared at her numbly. In the black of the woods a nightjar screamed a single, discordant taunt.... III The commotion had roused most of the others. Quiet forms in the midnight, they had drifted to the road. Wilson spoke now. He said, "That's the end, then. If she's right, Brian, the war is over. And we've lost." I said to the girl, "How about it?" She shook her head. "I'm afraid so. The last reports I heard, they had seized the Mississippi, cut all contact between our Eastern and Western armies. The Japs control California and Nevada. There was a terrific battle being waged at Albuquerque. The Russian navy holds the Great Lakes. Everywhere you hear the same story." Pelham-Jones demanded harshly, "St. Louis? Did you hear anything about--?" "Wiped out to a man. It was caught in a vise. The Germans from the east, the Italians from the north." Pelham-Jones said, "I see," quietly. He turned away. His shoulders looked heavy. He had a younger brother at St. Louis. Van Huys looked at the girl suspiciously. "How do we know she's telling the truth, O'Shea? It may be more lies. She may be a Totie spy." I said, "You have your dent?" She nodded and handed it to me. I flashed my light on it. It was authentic, all right. The picture on the tiny metal identification tag was an image of her; the name beneath was _Maureen Joyce_. She was tagged as a WAIF, a member of the Women's Auxiliary Intelligence Force. I gave it back to her. "Very good, Miss Joyce. Sorry. We can't afford to take chances, though. You understand, I'm sure. But--" My curiosity made me exceed my authority. "But what are you doing here? Surely you wouldn't be attempting to escape the Toties in this direction? If they hold the east?"