“No danger of your nerve being gone,” murmured Blake, nudging his chum.

“I should say not!”

“Anyhow, I resign!” declared C.C. savagely.

But, as he did this on the average of twice a week, it had become so now that no one paid any attention to him.  Mr. Hadley, seeing that he was in no danger and hardly even painfully scorched, no longer worried about the gloomy comedian.

“And now to get back to what we were talking about before that interruption came,” said Mr. Hadley to the moving picture boys.  “Do you think you’d like to tackle the job?”

“What is it?” asked Blake.

“Give us an idea,” added his chum.

“Well, it isn’t going to be any easy work,” went on the producer.  “And I might as well tell you, first as last, that it will be positively dangerous on all sides.”

“Like anything we’ve done before?” Blake wanted to know.

“Not exactly.  Earthquake Land is as near like it as anything that occurs to me.  In short, how would you like to go to Europe?”

“To the war?” cried Joe.

“Yes; but to take films, not prisoners!”

“Great!” cried Blake.  “That suits me, all right!”

“The same here!” agreed Joe instantly.  “Tell us more about it!”

“I will in a few days,” promised the producer.  “I have several details to arrange.  Meanwhile, I have a little commission for you along the same line, but it’s right around here—­or, rather, down in Wrightstown, New Jersey, at one of the army camps.

“I can tell you this much:  If you go to Europe, it will be as special agents 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.