Charles Anderson seemed to need little looking after, for he arose to his feet, appearing somewhat dazed, but not hurt, as far as was evidenced.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Just a little bit of a compliment from our friend Fritz," answered Drew. "That was a real shell—no dud—but it exploded far enough away from us not to do an awful lot of damage. That is, unless your other bunkie is worse hurt."
"I'm afraid he is," observed Blake, for Joe had not yet moved, and dirt covered him thickly.
The center of the fighting seemed to have passed beyond the group of moving picture boys by this time. Blake, Charlie and Drew turned to where Joe lay and began scraping the dirt from him.
He stirred uneasily while they were doing this, and murmured:
"It's all right. Put in another reel."
"Touched on the head," said the soldier. "We'd better get him back of the lines where he can see a doctor. Your machine got a touch of it, too."
Anderson hurried over to the overturned camera. A quick examination showed him that it had suffered no more damage than the broken support.
"It's all right," he announced. "Not even light-struck, I guess. I'll take this and the boxes of film," and he shouldered his burden.