my share yet. Had to go back with an order. Hi,
here comes one!" and instinctively he dodged, as did the others, though
a moment later it was borne to them that it was of little use to dodge
on the battlefield.

Something flew screaming and whining over their heads, and fell a short
distance away.

"It's a shell!" cried Joe, as he saw it half bury itself in the earth.
"Look out!"

Private Drew gave one look at the place where the German missile had
fallen, not ten feet away, and then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he
cried:

"It's only a dud!"

"What's that?" asked Joe.

"Shell that didn't explode," answered the soldier. "The Fritzes have
fired a lot of them lately. Guess their ammunition must be going back on
them. It's only a dud!"

He was about to pass on, and the moving picture boys were going to
resume their making of films, when another scream and whine like the
first came, but seemingly nearer.

Instinctively all four looked up, and saw something flashing over their
heads. They could feel the wind of the shell, for that is what it was,
and then the chance shot from the German gun fell about fifty feet
behind the group.

The next instant there was a tremendous explosion, and Blake and the
others felt themselves being tossed about and knocked down as by a
mighty wind.

CHAPTER XVIII

TRENCH LIFE

Blake was the first to scramble to his feet, rolling out from beneath a
pile of dirt and stones that had been tossed on him as the shell heaved
up a miniature geyser and covered him with the debris. Then, after a
shake, such as a dog gives himself when he emerges from the water, and
finding himself, as far as he could tell, uninjured, he looked to his
companions.

Private Drew was staggering about, holding his right hand to his head,
and on his face was a look of grim pain. But it passed in an instant as
he cried to Blake:

"Hurt Buddy?"

"I don't seem to be," was the answer, given during a lull in the
bombardment and firing. "But I'm afraid----"

He did not finish the sentence, but looked apprehensively at his
prostrate chums. Both Joe and Charlie lay motionless, half covered with
dirt. One camera had been upset and the tripod was broken. The other,
which Blake had been operating, seemed intact.

"Maybe they're only knocked out. That happens lots of times," said Drew.
"We'll have a look."

"But you're hurt yourself!" exclaimed Blake, looking at a bloody hand
the soldier removed from hi