The Moving Picture Boys on the War Front Part 19

And what pleased them still more was Captain Bedell's announcement:

"I also have the pleasure to inform you that the permits allowing you to go to the front have been received. They came yesterday, but, of course, under the circ.u.mstances I could not tell you."

"Then may we get on the firing line?" asked Blake.

"As soon as you please. We will do all we can to speed you on your way.

It is all we can do to repay for the trouble you have had."

"These are war times, and one can't be too particular," responded Joe.

"We don't mind, now that we can get a real start."

"I'd like to get at that fake Jew and the Frenchman who spoiled the films!" murmured Charles.

"Charlie can forgive everything but those spoiled films," remarked Blake, with a chuckle.

"We will try to apprehend the two men," promised Captain Bedell, "but I am afraid it is too late. It may seem strange to you that we held you on the mere evidence of a letter from a man we did not know. But you must remember that the nerves of every one are more or less upset over what has happened. The poison of Germany's spy system had permeated all of us, and nothing is normal. A man often suspects his best friend, so though it may have seemed unusual to you to be arrested, or detained, as we call it, still when all is considered it was not so strange.

"However, you are at liberty to go now, and we will do all we can to help you. I have instructions to set you on your way to the front as soon as you care to go, and every facility will be given you to take all the pictures of your own troops you wish. I regret exceedingly what has happened."

"Oh, let it go!" said Blake cheerfully. "You treated us decently, and, as you say, these are war times."

"Which is my only excuse," said the captain, with a smile. "Now I am going to see if we can not apprehend that German and his French fellow-conspirator."

But, as may be guessed, "Henry Littlefield" was not to be found, nor Lieutenant Secor, nor Levi Labenstein.

"Labenstein probably wrote that letter accusing us and mailed it just to make trouble because we suspected him and Secor," said Blake.

"Well, it's lucky you had that note from him, or you'd never have been able to convince the authorities here that he was a faker," remarked Joe. "I guess he didn't count on that."

"Probably not," agreed Blake. "And now, boys, let's get busy!"

There was much to do after their release. They went back to their hotel and began getting their baggage in shape for the trip to France. Their cameras and reels were released from the custody of the war officials, and with a glad smile Macaroni began overhauling them to see that they had not been damaged on the trip.

"Right as ever!" he remarked, after a test. "Now they can begin the _parlez vous Francaise?_ business as soon as they please."

Two days later the boys embarked for the pa.s.sage across the Channel, and though it was a desperately rough one, they were, by this time, seasoned travelers and did not mind it.

The journey through France up to the front was anything but pleasant.

The train was slow and the cars uncomfortable, but the boys made the best of it, and finally one afternoon, as the queer little engine and cars rolled slowly up to what served for a station, there came to their ears dull boomings.

"Thunder?" asked Joe, for the day was hot and sultry.

"Guns at the front," remarked a French officer, who had been detailed to be their guide the last part of the journey.

"At the front at last! Hurrah!" cried Joe.

"Perhaps you will not feel like cheering when you have been here a week or two," said the French officer.

"Sure we will!" declared Charlie. "We can do something now besides look at London chimney pots. We can get action!"

As the boys looked about on the beautiful little French village where they were to be quartered for some time, it was hard to realize that, a few miles away, men were engaged in deadly strife, that guns were booming, killing and maiming, and that soon they might be looking on the tangled barbed-wire defense of No Man's Land.

But the dull booming, now and then rising to a higher note, told them the grim truth.

They were at the war front at last!

CHAPTER XVI

THE FIRING LINE

"h.e.l.lo! Where are you fellows from?"

It was rather a sharp challenge, yet not unfriendly, that greeted Blake, Joe and Charlie, as they were walking from the house where they had been billeted, through the quaint street of the still more quaint French village. "Where are you from?"

"New York," answered Blake, as he turned to observe a tall, good-natured-looking United States infantryman regarding him and his two chums.

"New York, eh? I thought so! I'm from that burg myself, when I'm at home. Shake, boys! You're a sight for sore eyes. Not that I've got 'em, but some of the fellows have--and worse. From New York! That's mighty good! Shake again!"

And they did shake hands all around once more.

"My name's Drew--Sam Drew," announced the private. "I'm one of the doughboys that came over first with Pers.h.i.+ng. Are you newspaper fellows?"

"No. Moving picture," answered Blake.

"You don't say so! That's great! Shake again. When are you going to give a show?"

"Oh, we're not that kind," explained Joe. "We're here to take army films."

"Oh, shucks!" cried Private Drew. "I thought we were to see something new. The boys here are just aching for something new. There's a picture show here, but the machine's busted and n.o.body can fix it. We had a few reels run off, but that's all. Say, we're 'most dead from what these French fellows call _ong we_, though o-n-g-w-e ain't the way you spell it. If we could go to one show----"

"You say there's a projector here?" interrupted Joe eagerly.

"Well, I don't know what you call it, but there's a machine here that showed some pictures until it went on the blink."

"Maybe I can fix it," went on Joe, still eagerly. "Let's have a look at it. But where do you get current from? This town hasn't electric lights."

"No, but we've got a gasolene engine and a dynamo. The officers'

quarters and some of the practice trenches are lighted by electricity.

Oh, we have some parts of civilization here, even if we are near the trenches!"

"If you've got current and that projection machine isn't too badly broken, maybe I can fix her up," said Joe. "Let's have a look at it."

"Oh, I'll lead you to it, all right, Buddy!" cried Private Drew. "We'll just eat up some pictures if we can get 'em! Come along! This way for the main show!" and he laughed like a boy.