CHAPTER X

CHRISTOPHER CUTLER PIPER TURNS UP

“Gee, I’m worn to a rag!” moaned Charlie, sinking to the ground during a lull in the work and mopping his brow. “When it comes to actual fighting it’s all right but this steady grind gets a fellow’s goat.”

“Oh, stop your grouching,” sang out Blake cheerfully, busying himself with the machine. “Wait till one of those playful little bombs bursts under your nose and scatters its cunning little splinters all over the place. Then you’ll have something to worry about.”

“On the contrary,” retorted Charlie, getting painfully to his feet, “it seems to me that under those circumstances nothing would ever worry me more. Hey, look here,” he added suddenly, pointing to where a small group of persons could be seen approaching. “Isn’t there something familiar about that whole party, especially the fellow in the middle?”

“Middle of what?” queried Blake, still busy with his machine and somewhat impatient of the interruption.

“Oh, next week, of course,” Charlie was beginning scornfully, when Joe, who had come up behind them unnoticed, broke in with a yell.

“Well, if here isn’t the whole moving picture crowd!” he shouted joyfully. “And in their midst, the well-beloved face of our old pal, C. C. Say, this is luck!”

“Luck,” repeated Macaroni dolefully, as they went to meet their friends. “If you call meeting a wet-blanket like C. C. luck----”

“Well, for the love o’ Mike!” cried C. C. himself, catching sight of the boys. “What ill--I mean, good--wind blew you hither?”

“After that greeting we know it’s C. C.,” grinned Blake, amid a chorus of greetings and exclamations from Miss Lee, Miss Shay and other members of the moving picture company. After a moment or two more of friendly conversation, they passed on to meet Mr. Hadley, all, that is, except Christopher Cutler Piper, _alias_ C. C., who lingered to speak to the boys.

“Going to cheer up the boys in the trenches?” Joe demanded of the gloomy comedian.

“Say,” protested Charlie, “haven’t the poor fellows enough to stand, what with liquid fire and poison gas, without turning C. C. loose on them? Have a heart!”

“Even Hun kultur couldn’t think up any worse torture than that,” agreed Joe.

C. C. turned a grieved and protesting eye upon them.

“Say, that’s a fine reputation you’re giving me,” the gloomy comedian protested. “Here I come in a spirit of self-sacrifice, to offer my services to the government, only to have my best friends turn upon me like vipers in my bosom----”

“Gee, how does it feel?” asked Blake in mock awe, while even C. C. grudgingly vouchsafed a gloomy grin.

“But seriously,” added Blake, as they turned and made their way slowly toward the deserted picture machine, “what did bring you to this neck of the woods, C. C.? Last I heard of you, you were showing off to admiring crowds on Fifth Avenue.”

“Ah, but duty called,” sighed C. C., “and I left my homeland for the dangers of the trenches. You surmised correctly, Macaroni--I have come to cheer up our brave fighting men.”

“Oh, gee,” groaned Charlie Anderson, but Joe interrupted him.

“What’s your line?” he inquired with interest. “Going to do a ballet, or imitations?”

“Worse and worse and more of it,” broke in Blake, irrepressibly. “Can’t you see it--old C. C. in a spirited imitation of the dying codfish? Going to let us in on it, C. C.?”

“Yes, I can just see myself,” answered Mr. Piper bitterly. “The soldiers appreciate my talents, anyway. I entertained a crowd of them at the Y. M. C. A. last night and you should have heard the applause. Why, it shook the whole building.”

“Don’t kid yourself, old man,” cried Joe airily. “That was a bomb that shook the building and as for the applause--well, I’ve heard that life in the trenches sometimes affects men that way--shell shock, you know, and such things.”

“All right,” sighed poor C. C. resignedly. “Scoff if you will--I’m used to it. Only some time when a bomb alights upon my devoted head and there’s a large amount of nothingness left where I once stood, you may be sorry. But never mind, I never expected to be appreciated.”

The comedian wandered off and then the boys lost no time in hunting up the girls who had acted so many parts in the dramas the company had filmed.

“Awfully glad to see you!” cried Blake.

“Best thing ever,” came from Joe.

“We’re glad, too,” cried the girls.

Quite a talk followed. In the midst of this Mr. Hadley came rushing up in his bustling way with both hands extended in hearty greeting to the boys. They grasped his hands with hearty liking, for their relations with their employer had always been of the most cordial kind in the years they had been together.

“Well, well,” said Mr. Hadley, beaming upon them both. “I’m delighted to see you two boys again and to find that you’re safe and sound, in spite of all you’ve been through.”

“You’re no more glad than we are to see you,” replied Blake. “But this is a surprise. We hadn’t the least idea that you were coming to this side of the big pond.”

“I made up my mind in a hurry,” replied Mr. Hadley, “and when I had decided, I found that a letter wouldn’t reach you any sooner than I would get here myself. So here I am and most of the company with me. Got over without any trouble, though one time we did get a glimpse of a periscope and we had a few anxious minutes.”

“Did you get all the films we sent you?” asked Blake, with whom the thought of his profession was always present.

“Most of them,” replied the producer, “though two lots you mentioned in your letters never arrived. Guess they went down in one of the submarine sinkings.”

“That’s too bad,” said Joe. “How did you like those you did get?”

“They were fine and dandy,” replied Mr. Hadley with enthusiasm. “They made a big hit with the public, and they were especially popular with the boys in the training camps. I had a letter from the War Department, and they spoke in the warmest way about them. But I mustn’t be giving you boys a swelled head or you’ll be striking me for a raise in salary,” he concluded with a laugh.

“What’s the big idea in bringing the company over?” asked Blake.

Mr. Hadley showed a slight trace of embarrassment.

“Well,” he said rather hesitatingly, “I’m a business man, but hang it all! I’ve got some red blood in my veins just as you young cubs have, and I thought it would be the least that I could do to bring over some of the stars and go through the camps giving entertainments and cheering up the boys. We’ll make a tour of the hospitals, too. You know the girls and the comedians are not only movie actors, but most of them have been on the regular stage, and they can sing and dance and give skits and imitations. They were all willing and glad to come along to do their bit.”

“That’s just bully!” cried Joe in delight.

“It will do the boys more good than medicine,” added Blake.

“We’ll hope so,” said Mr. Hadley. “If it does we’ll be fully repaid. But now to business,” he continued, with a return of his usual brisk manner. “I’ve just had a talk with your captain and he tells me there’s something brewing. He’s got wind of a coming attack and he thinks it’s going to be a heavy one. It struck me that it will be a dandy chance to get some very stirring films. Are you game?”

“You bet!” they replied in unison, the gleam of anticipation in their eyes.

“You’re like the war horse that sniffs the battle from afar,” laughed their employer. “You’ve got your nerve right with you. And it will take lots of nerve. It’s one thing to stand up to a party of Boches with your bayonet in your hand, but you fellows may have to stand up to them unarmed. It’s risky work,” he said hesitatingly, “but I know you fellows won’t back out----”

“Back out!” exclaimed Joe hotly. “The only thing I want to know is why we’re wasting time standing here.”

“Yes,” added Blake eagerly, “let’s get at them.”

“All right,” said Mr. Hadley with an admiring and satisfied glance. “That’s the answer I expected to hear. Now then remember that you’re going to take the best films we’ve had yet. We’ve got to get them, but what’s just as important we’ve got to keep them. Hang on to the films after you get them as though your lives depended on it. The Boches would give a lot to get hold of them, but you fellows are smart enough to double cross them. Go to it, boys, and good luck go with you.”

With a wave of the hand he left them, and the moving picture boys quickly got their equipment ready and reported to their captains who directed them to that part of the front where the fighting was likely to be hot. Then with hearts aflame they dropped into the trenches beside the grim fighting men.

These men were simply waiting,--waiting for the moment when their taut muscles would be released, when they would burst in a trained, inspired flood over the barrier of wood and dirt to meet and stop the hordes of Huns approaching them.

Past these rigid, dust-stained heroes the boys went to a vantage point from which they could take pictures of the coming battle.

Walking, stumbling, half-blinded by the smoke from bursting shells, half-deafened by the thunder of the guns, the boys hurried on to the appointed spot.

Here, their fingers trembling with excitement, faces burning, eyes glowing, the boys set up the machine and made ready for the greatest moment of their lives.

Mr. Hadley had spoken truly. It was one thing to await the onslaught of the enemy, bayonet in hand, and quite another to stand there unarmed, calmly taking pictures of the fight when any moment a bursting shell might blow them into eternity.

But they had been face to face with death before and had come through alive. Their jaws set hard and they looked calmly straight ahead. If need be they could die like men.

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