"Yes; he's been around camp quite a while. You must have seen him too, you and Joe; but I guess you were so busy you didn't notice. He wears a light blue uniform, with a little gold braid on it, and he has one of those leather straps from his shoulder."
"You mean a bandolier," suggested Joe.
"Maybe that's it," admitted Macaroni. "Anyhow, he's a regular swell, and he goes around a lot with the other camp officers. They seem to think he knows a heap about war. But, believe me, he doesn't know much about running an auto—or else he knows too much."
"Well, seeing that he's the guest of this camp, and probably of Uncle Sam, we can't make too much of a row," observed Blake. "I'll go and tell the commandant about the accident, and have him arrange for taking a new series of views. It's too bad, but it can't be helped."
"It could have been helped if anybody with common sense had been running that auto, instead of a frog-eating, parlevooing Frenchman!" cried Macaroni, who was much excited over the affair.
"That's no way to talk about one of our Allies," cautioned Joe.
"Humph!" was all Charles answered, as he looked at the wrecked box of film. "I s'pose he'll claim it was partly my fault."
"Well, we know it wasn't," returned Blake consolingly. "Come on, we'll get ready to do it over again; but, from the way Mr. Hadley wrote in his last letter, he'll be sorry about the delay."
"Is he eager for you to get over on the other side?" asked the helper.
"Yes. And I understand he asked if you wanted to go along as our assistant, Mac."