Nobody noticed her, however, and even a growing bump on her forehead
received scant attention. All were too intent upon the matter at hand.

At this spot the road was very narrow and on each side sloped down sharply
about ten or twelve feet to the level of the fields. It seemed almost an
impossibility to turn the car in that narrow space without precipitating
it down either one or the other of the steep banks.

After many fruitless attempts and barely escaped tragedies, however,
Mollie finally succeeded, and the car was sent flying down the white
stretch of road that led to Camp Liberty and the hospital.

"Oh, I hope we'll get there in time," Amy murmured over and over again,
and kept looking at the pathetic little victim. "Is she still breathing,
Betty? Are you sure?"

To this Betty always nodded in the affirmative, her little mouth grimly
set, her eyes fixed steadily ahead, as though she would draw their
destination nearer to them by the very force of her desire.

"I wonder," Mollie flung back at them from between clenched teeth, "what
that motorcyclist looked like. I'd like to meet him again--with a firing
squad."

"Why I saw him," came Grace's muffled voice from the floor of the car.

"So did I," added Amy.

"So you would recognize him again?" Mollie demanded eagerly, swerving the