s of Uncle Sam, making films for the use of the army. You will be
commissioned, if my plans work out, though you will be non-combatants.
The war department wants reliable films, and they asked me to get some
for them. I at once thought of you two as the best camera men I could
pick out. I also have a contract for getting some films here of army
encampment scenes, and you can do these while I'm waiting to perfect my
other arrangements, if you like."

"Down at Wrightstown, is it?" cried Joe. "Well, I guess we can take
that in. How about it, Blake?"

"Sure we can. That is, if you're through with us on this serial."

"Yes. The most important scenes of that are made now, and some of my
other camera men will do for what is left. So if you want to go to the
Jersey camp I'll get your papers ready."

"We'll go," decided Blake.

Two days later, during which they wondered at and discussed the
possibilities of making films on the battle fronts of Europe, the two
youths were in Wrightstown.

One incident occurred while they were at work there that had a
considerable bearing on what afterward happened to them. This was after
Joe and Blake had finished making a fine set of films, showing the
drilling of Uncle Sam's new soldiers, the views to be used to encourage
enlistments about the country.

"These are some of the best views we've taken yet in this particular
line," observed Joe to Blake, as they sent the boxed reels to New York
by one of their helpers to be developed.

"Yes, I think so myself. Of course, they're peaceful, compared to what
we may take in France, but----"

He was interrupted by the unexpected return of Charles Anderson,
nicknamed "Macaroni," their chief helper, who hurriedly entered the
tent assigned to the two boys.

"What's the trouble, Mac?" asked Joe, that being the shortened form of
the nickname. "You look worried."

"And so would you, Joe, if you'd had an accident like mine!"

"An accident?" cried Blake, in some alarm.

"Yes! At least, he _said_ it was an accident!"

"Who said so?"

"That Frenchman!"

"What accident was it?"

"Why, he ran into me with his auto, and the army films are all
spoiled--light-struck!"

"Whew!" whistled Blake, and Joe despairingly banged his fist against his
camera.

CHAPTER III

MONSIEUR SECOR

Macaroni sank down on a chair. Blake said, afterward, their young
assistant gave a very fair imitation, as far as regarded the look on his
face, of C.C. Pi