“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

“Hello!  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 Pershing.  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 nobody 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.”