"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."
"Oh, I'll lead you to it, all right, Buddy!" cried Private Drew. "We'll just eat up some pictures if we can get 'em! Come along! This way for the main show!" and he laughed like a boy.
Among the outfits sent with the troops quartered in this particular sector was a moving picture machine and many reels of film. But, as Sam Drew had said, the machine was broken.
After Blake and his chums had reported to the officer to whom they had letters of introduction and had been formally given their official designation as takers of army war films, they went to the old barn which had been turned into a moving picture theater.