“Well, if the fighting lasts long enough the sun will soon be higher and the light better,” responded Blake.  “And it sounds as if this was going to be a big fight.”

By this time the German guns seemed to have awakened, and were replying to the fire from the American and French artillery.  The shells flew screaming over the heads of those in the trenches, and instinctively Blake and his companions ducked.

Then they realized how futile this was.  As a matter of fact, the shells were passing high over them and exploding even back of the line of cannon.  For the Germans did not yet have the range, some of the Allies’ guns having been moved up during the night.

Suddenly, though how the signal was given the moving picture boys did not learn until afterward, there was activity in the trenches before them.  With yells that sounded only faintly above the roar of the big guns, the American and French soldiers went “over the top,” and rushed toward the German trenches.

“Come on!” cried Blake.  “This is our chance!”

“It isn’t light enough!” complained Charlie, as he ran along the communicating trench with the other two lads to the front line ditch.  “We can’t get good pictures now.”

“It’s getting lighter!” cried Blake.  “Come on!”

He and Joe were to work the cameras, with Charles Anderson to stand by with spare reels of film, and to lend a helping hand if need be.

Along the narrow trench they rushed, carrying their machines which, it was hoped, would catch on the sensitive celluloid the scenes, or some of them, that were taking place in front.  Mad scenes they were, too—­scenes of bursting shells, of geysers of rock and earth being tossed high by some explosion, of men rushing forward to take part in the deadly combat.

As Blake had said, the scene was lighting up now.  The sun rose above the mists and above the smoke of the guns, for though some smokeless powder was used, there was enough of the other variety to produce great clouds of vapor.

Behind the line of rushing soldiers, who were all firing their rifles rapidly, rushed the moving picture boys.  They were looking for a spot on which to set their machines to get good views of the engagement.

“This’ll do!” yelled Blake, as they came to a little hill, caused by the upheaval of dirt in some previous shell explosion.  “We can stand here!”

“All right!” agreed Joe.  “I’ll go a little to one side so we won’t duplicate.”

The barrage fire had lifted, biting deeper into the ranks and trenches of the Germans.  But they, on their part, had found the range more accurately, and were pouring an answering bombardment into the artillery stations of the French and Americans.

And then, as the sun came out clear, the boys had a wonderful view of what was going on.  Before them the French and Uncle Sam’s boys were fighting with the Germans, who had been driven from their trenches.  On all sides were rifles belching fire and sending out the leaden messengers of death.