Her voice trailed off into silence, and for a long time no one spoke.  Each one of these young girls, who, a few short months before, had scarcely known the meaning of the word war except as they had read about it in their histories, was striving desperately to visualize the battle front—­the trenches, great guns belching forth a deadly hail of shells, the roar of cannon, the moans of dying men—­

And there, perhaps, in the mire and horror of it all—­the boys—­their boys—­

CHAPTER XIII

THE COPPERHEAD

Betty was the first to break the silence.

“But, of course,” she said, and they started at the sound of her voice—­so far away had their thoughts been wandering, “it may only be one more of those rumors the boys are always talking about.”

“I suppose so,” said Grace, with a sigh.  “Anyway, it won’t do any good to worry about it till the time comes.”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Mollie a little irritably.  “It’s like having a sword hanging over your head all the time.  I’d just as soon have it cut me in two now and get it over with.”

“Yes, it is something like cutting the poor dog’s tail off an inch at a time,” sighed Amy, and at the comparison and her sober countenance they had to laugh despite the very real trouble at their hearts.

“I wish,” said Betty wistfully after a while, “the boys could have gotten leave to-day.  I should like to have just one more picnic with them.  We’ve had such good times together.  And we’re going to have lots more,” she added, springing to her feet with a sudden, swift smile.  “That’s our part of the business from now on.  Just to keep smiling and make up our minds that they’re coming back to us just as they went—­only better.”

“They couldn’t be,” declared Amy, and once more the other Outdoor Girls laughed and hugged her.

“Anyway, they’ve got one good backer in you, Amy dear,” said Betty fondly.  “You’ve no idea how fond all the boys are of you.  I declare, sometimes I’m almost jealous.”

“You,” cried Amy incredulously, looking at the flushed face and shining eyes.  “You’ll never need to be jealous of anybody in your life Betty Nelson—­and especially of me,” she added modestly.

Betty laughed and hugged her again.

“Girls, it’s getting late,” she said suddenly, with another of her swift changes of subject.  “I guess perhaps it’s time we were starting back.  Oh, I forgot,” she added, in consternation, “I, or rather, Amy and I, promised Mrs. Sanderson we’d gather some flowers for her, and now we’ve got to do it, even if it is late—­”

“Of course we have,” agreed Mollie, rising with alacrity.  “It wouldn’t do at all to disappoint her.”

“It must have been a pretty lonely day for her,” said Amy thoughtfully, as she snapped the lid of a basket shut.  “I wish she had come with us.”

“Well, we’re pretty much in the same boat as she is—­or will be soon,” mused Mollie, as the girls scattered to make good Betty’s promise.