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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
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