Victor Appleton - The Moving Picture Boys on the War Front

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But there was a risk in starting on this journey. As non-combatants, if
they carried arms and went into the enemy's territory, they were not
entitled to be considered prisoners of war. Of course they could fight
for their lives, but not with the same status as could a uniformed
soldier. As a matter of fact, they did not wear the regulation uniform,
having dark suits better suited to this night excursion than the khaki.

Waiting until it was dark enough for their purpose and taking with them
electric flashlights to use in case they got into a hut or some such
place where they could not see to search for their films, and having
blackened their hands and faces and seen that their weapons were in
order, they sallied forth from the home of the humble French couple,
many good wishes going with them.

It was a walk of three or four miles from the little village to the
place where the sentry had said the dugout lay, and during the first
part of the trip the boys talked to each other.

"Do you suppose we'll really find the films there?" ventured Joe.

"It's a slim chance, but one worth taking," said Blake. "Though I can't
imagine what Secor and Labenstein, if those two fellows are really here,
could want of them."

"Maybe they just picked them up on the chance that they would give away
some of the American army secrets," suggested Charlie. "And they would
show our boys were drilling, fighting, and all that. Of course some of
the things on the films were actually seen by the Germans, but others
were not; and I fancy those would be of value to Fritz. That's why they
took 'em."

"They couldn't have known we were here taking views," remarked Joe.

"Oh, yes they could!" declared Blake. "Germany's spy system is the best
in the world, and lots that goes on in America is known in Germany
before half of our own people hear about it. But we'll have to get there
before we can find out what is in that dugout, if it's there yet."

"Well, some part of it--maybe a hut or a brush heap--must be there, or
the sentry wouldn't have seen men about it," observed Joe. "And now we'd
better keep quiet. We're getting too close to talk much."

A little later they passed a sentry--not their friend--gave the proper
password, and then stood on the edge of No Man's Land.

What would be their fate as they crossed it and ventured on the other
side--the side held by the Germans?

"Come on!" whispered Blake softly, and, crouching down to avoid as much
as possible being detected in the starlight, the boys went cautiously
into the debatable territory.

CHAPTER XXII

CAPTURED

Not without a rather creepy feeling did the three boys start on their
mission, the outcome of which could only be guessed. They were taking
great risks, and they knew it. But it was not the first time. They had
gone into the jungle to get films of wild beasts at the water hole. They
had ventured into Earthquake Land where the forces of nature, if not of
mankind, were arrayed against them. And they had dared the perils of the
deep in getting pictures under the sea.

But these were as nothing compared to the mission on which they were now
engaged, for, at any moment, there might go up from the German lines,
not half a mile away, a string of lights that would reveal their
presence to the ever-watchful snipers and sharp-shooters.

And, more than that, the whole area might suddenly be swept by a hail of
bullets from a battery of machine guns. Both sides had these deadly
weapons in readiness, and it was well known that Fritz was exceedingly
nervous and apt, at times, to let burst a salvo of fire without any real
reason.

The fluttering of some armless sleeve on the body of a dead man, the
rattle of a loose strand of barbed wire, the movement of a sorely
wounded soldier lying out in the open, might draw the German fire. And
if the moving picture boys were caught in that they would be hard put to
it to escape.

"The only thing to do, when you see a flash of fire, is to drop to the
ground and lie as still as you can," Blake had said to his chums before
they started out. "Duck your heads down on your arms and don't move. The
lampblack will kill any glare from the lights and they may not see us.
So remember, don't move if you see anything like a light. It may be a
glare from a discharged rifle, or it may be a rocket or star cluster.
Just lie low, that's the way!"

And so, as they crawled on, in crouching attitudes, over the desolate
stretch that lay between them and the place they sought, they made no
noise, and kept a sharp watch.

Blake led the way, his hand ready on his pistol, and the other two boys
followed his example. Their gas masks were ready at their belts, but
these were mainly an added precaution, as it was not likely, unless a
general attack was contemplated, that the Germans would produce the
chlorine.

Blake had gone a little way down the slope, Joe and Charlie following as
closely as was safe, when the leader came to a halt. Watching his dim
form, his chums did the same.

"What is it?" whispered Joe, in the softest of voices.

"A figure," answered Blake likewise. "I'm not sure whether it's a dead
man or some one like us--trying to discover something. Do you see it?"

Joe looked. He saw a huddled heap which might, some day, have been a
man. Now it was but a--heap. As the boys strained their eyes through the
darkness they became aware that it was the body of a man--a French
soldier who had fallen in the engagement of a few days before, and who
had not yet been buried. There were many such--too many on both sides
for the health and comfort of the living.

"Pass to one side," advised Joe. "We can't do him any good."

"Poor fellow!" murmured Charlie. "Ouch!" he suddenly exclaimed, in
louder tones than any they had heretofore used.

"Quiet!" hissed Blake. "What's the matter?"

"A big rat ran right over my legs," answered Macaroni.

"Well, if he didn't bite you what are you yelling about?" demanded Joe.
The trenches were full of rats--great, gray fellows--for there was much
carrion food for them.

Once more, making a little detour, Blake started forward, but hardly had
he again taken up his progress when there came the sound of a slight
explosion over toward the German lines, and almost instantly the dreary
stretch of No Man's Land was brightly illuminated.

"Down! Down!" hoarsely called Blake, and he and his chums dropped full
length on the ground, never heeding puddles of water, the rats or the
dead, for they became aware that more bodies were all about them.

Up from the German lines went a series of rockets and star clusters.
They made the battle ground between the two forces almost as bright as
day, so that should any of the unfortunate wounded men be seen to move
they might be killed.

Perhaps some keen-eyed Hun, watching for just this chance, had detected
a slight movement near the dead man beside whom Blake and his chums
first stopped. And, knowing from a previous observation that the body
was cold and stark, the sniper must have reasoned that the living had
joined it.

Or perhaps the incautious exclamation made by Charlie when he felt the
big rat may have been carried to the ever-listening ears. However that
was, the glaring lights were set off, and at once hundreds of rifles,
aimed over the tops of the German trenches, began to send a hail of lead
across No Man's Land.

Fortunately the line of fire was either to one side of where the boys
had fallen, or it was too high or too low. They did not stop to consider
which it was, but were thankful that they felt none of the leaden
missiles, though some sang uncomfortably close.

For perhaps five minutes the glaring lights illuminated the
blood-stained ground, and the firing was kept up at intervals. It was
replied to from the American and French lines, but with what effect
could only be guessed.

And then, once more, darkness settled down, and the boys began to
breathe more easily. They had had a narrow escape, and their journey was
not half over, to say nothing of the return trip--if they lived to make
it.

"Come on!" Blake cautiously whispered again. "And bear off to the right.
The fire wasn't so heavy from there. Maybe we can find a gap to get
through."

His companions followed him as he crawled along, actually crawling this
time, for it was not safe to rise high enough to walk even in a stooping
position. No one could tell when the glaring lights might be sent up
again.

But, for a time, Fritz seemed satisfied with the demonstration he had
made. Perhaps he had killed some of the wounded, for not all of them had
been brought in. Perhaps he had only further mutilated bodies that had
long since ceased to be capable of movement.

And so, over the dark and bloody ground, Blake and his chums made their
way. In a little while they would be in comparative safety, for their
friend the sentry had told them there were no regular trenches near the
little hollow where once had stood a machine-gun emplacement and where
the boys now hoped to find their precious war films.

But their journey was not destined to be peaceful. Once more the flaring
lights went up, and again came the heavy firing. Again the boys crouched
to get below the storm of bullets, and again they escaped. But a groan
and a cry of anguish, from somewhere on their left, told them some poor
unfortunate had been put out of his misery.

They waited a little while, and then again took up the perilous journey.
Presently Blake, taking a cautious observation, announced that they were
in comparative safety, and might walk upright.

"Where's the hut--or whatever it is?" asked Joe.

"Down in that little hollow, I take it," said Blake. "We can't see it
until we round that little hill. Maybe we can't see it at all, for it
may not be there," he added. "But we'd better go slow, for it may be
there, and there may be some one in it."

"Secor and Labenstein, perhaps," murmured Charlie.

"Perhaps," agreed Blake. "If they are----"

He did not finish, but his chums knew he meant there might be a
desperate fight.

A little later, having proceeded cautiously, the boys made the turn
around the little hill that had hitherto hidden from view the hollow of
which the American sentry had spoken, and then they saw in the light of
the stars what seemed to be a tumbled-down hut. As a matter of fact, it
had once been a concrete dugout, where a machine gun had been placed in
order to fire at the French and American lines. But in the heavy
fighting of the past few days this place had been captured by an
American contingent. They had destroyed the gun and killed most of the
crew, and the place had been blown up by a bomb. But the fierce waves of
Germans had surged back over the place, driving out the Americans who,
in turn, captured it again.

Just now the place was supposed to be deserted, being of no strategic
value, and in a location that made it dangerous for either side to hold
it.

"We'll take a look in there," said Blake, when they had drawn near and
had discovered that the ruins of the concrete dugout had been covered
with brush, to "camouflage" it from spying airmen.

They approached cautiously, and, as they did so, they became aware of a
faint light coming from the ruins. So faint was it that at first it
seemed no more than the reflection of the stars, but a long look showed
that it was a light from within, but carefully screened.

"We've got to have a look in!" whispered Blake. "Maybe the films are
there, and maybe not; but some person is."

"Probably Germans," said Joe.

"Very likely. But it may be that Frenchman. If we could only capture
him!"

"I'd like a chance at him!" exclaimed Charlie.

"Hush!" cautioned Blake. The boys were now close to the hut, for that
was all it was since the bombardment. They tried on three sides of the
place to look in, but without success. Then, as they moved around to the
side which faced the German lines, they saw a crack through which the
light streamed in greater volume.

"Take a look, Blake," advised Joe.

His chum did so, and, with an exclamation of surprise and satisfaction,
turned away from the slot, motioning to the others to look for
themselves. And as Joe and Charlie looked they saw, seated on the ruins
of a machine gun and other things that had been in the place, Secor and
Labenstein. The two plotters had between them boxes which the boys had
no difficulty in recognizing as their missing war films.

Joe was about to utter an exclamation of delight when Blake softly put
his hand over his chum's mouth.

"Not a sound!" breathed Blake.

For a moment the boys stood looking in at the plotters and wondering how
they could capture them, or at least get back the stolen films.

And then a door, or what had been a door, to the dugout swung open with
a creak of its rusty hinges.

"What's that?" cried Secor, in French, starting to his feet.

"Only the wind," replied the German, in the tongue of his
fellow-conspirator. "Only the wind."

"Ah! I thought maybe it was----"

"You thought perhaps it was the boys who own these films, but who will
never see them again. I know not how valuable they may be--these
films--but I was told to get them, and I have. Let the ones higher up
decide on their value. But we must get our price for them--you and I. We
must get a good price. We have run a great risk."

"Yes, a great risk," murmured the Frenchman.

Blake motioned to his chums to follow him into the dugout. They could
see his gestures in the light of a lantern which formed the illumination
of the ruins.

Cautiously the three went inside, the noise they made being covered by
the rattling of the wind which had sprung up.

"We have them! We have them!" exulted Joe, in a whisper.

They were silently considering how best to surprise and capture the two
men, who were still unaware of the presence of the boys, when a sudden
noise came from outside. Blake and his chums, as well as the two men,
started.

"That was not the wind!" exclaimed Secor.

"No, my friend. It was not. I think there is some one here besides
ourselves. We must look. I----"

And then came a guttural command in German:

"Surrender--all of you! You are surrounded and are prisoners!
Surrender!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE AIRSHIP RAID

Surprise on the part of Blake and his chums, as well as on the part of
Secor and Labenstein, was so complete that it would be hard to say who
felt the sensation most. The moving picture boys, after danger and
difficulties, had found the stolen army films and those they believed
had taken them. They were about to make a dash and get not only the
precious boxes, but also, if possible, capture the two plotters, when,
like a bolt from a clear sky, they were themselves called upon to
surrender.

"Come on!" yelled Charlie, as he understood the import of the summons to
surrender. "We can make a fight for it!"

"Don't try it!" advised Blake. By the light of lanterns carried by the
raiding party of Germans he had seen that they were numerous and well
armed. It would have been the height of folly to resist, especially as
the boys were non-combatants and not entitled to the honors of war.

"Hands up--and search them!" commanded the German officer of the raiding
party, as he pointed to Blake and his two chums. He spoke in German and
then lapsed into English, which he spoke very well, saying:

"It will be best for you Americans to give in quietly. Hands up!" And
the order was stern.

The boys had no choice but to obey, and their weapons were quickly taken
from them.

"I will allow you to keep your gas masks for the present," the German
captain said, "as you may need them, as we ourselves may, before we get
back to our lines."

"Then we are going back with you?" asked Joe.

"Of a certainty--yes! Did you think I would leave you here to go back to
your own? Indeed not! Now, then, ready--march--all of you!" and he
nodded at Secor and Labenstein.

Blake and his two friends noticed that no hostility seemed directed
toward the two conspirators, who, however, appeared as much surprised at
the advent of the raiding party as were the boys. It was evident,
though, that some understanding existed between the German captain and
Labenstein, for they talked in low voices while Secor stood a little
apart. The gaze of the Frenchman rested on the boys in what Blake said
later seemed a peculiar manner.

"Well, up to your old spying tricks, I see!" exclaimed Joe, with a sneer
he could not forego. "Have you summoned any submarines lately?"

A strange look passed over the face of the Frenchman, but he did not
reply. Labenstein, who had finished his talk with the German captain of
the raiding squad, turned to the boys, and a tantalizing smile spread
over his face as he said:

"Ah, we meet again, I see!"

"And you don't seem to have found much use for my flashlight," said
Blake. "I hope it still works!"

The German muttered an exclamation of anger, and turned aside to pick up
the boxes of films. This was too much for Charles Anderson, who sprang
forward, crying:

"Say, those are ours, you Dutch thief! Let 'em alone! We came here to
get 'em! Let 'em alone!"

The German captain gave a sharp order, and Charlie was forcibly pulled
back by one of the soldiers.

"Say, but look here!" exclaimed the lanky assistant of the moving
picture boys. "This isn't war. I mean we aren't fighting you
Germans--though we might if we had the chance. We're just taking
pictures, and these fellows have stolen our films," and he indicated
Secor and Labenstein. The latter made some reply in German to the
captain which the boys could not understand.

"Give us back our films and let us go!" demanded Macaroni. "We only came
to get them!"

"Enough of this!" broke in the captain. "You are our prisoners, and you
may be thankful you are alive," and he tapped his big automatic pistol
significantly. "March!" he ordered.

Labenstein and Secor picked up the boxes of exposed film containing the
army views and went out of the hut followed by some of the soldiers.
Then the moving picture boys were told to follow, a guard of Germans,
with ready bayonets, closing up the rear. A little later the boys,
prisoners in the midst of the raiding party, were out under the silent
stars. For the time peace had settled over the battlefield, extending
across the trenches on both sides.

"I wonder what they are going to do with us," said Joe, in a low voice,
to Blake.

"Hard to tell," was the quiet answer. "They're marching us toward their
lines, though."

This was indeed true, the advance being toward a section of the field
beyond the German trenches whence, not long before, had come the
searchlights and the hail of shrapnel.

"Well, things didn't exactly turn out the way we expected," said
Charlie. "I guess we'll have to make a re-take in getting back our
films," he added, with grim humor. "How do you figure it out, Blake?"

The talk of the boys was not rebuked by their German captors, and indeed
the captain seemed to be deep in some conversation with Secor and
Labenstein.

"I don't know how it happened," Blake answered, "unless they saw us go
into that hut and crept up on us."

"They crept up, all right," muttered Joe. "I never heard a sound until
they called on us to surrender," he added.

"Maybe Secor and Labenstein saw us and never let on, and then sent a
signal telling the others to come and get us," suggested Charlie.

"I hardly think that," replied Blake. "The Frenchman and his fellow
German plotter seemed to be as much surprised as we were. You could see
that."

"I guess you're right," admitted Joe. "But what does it all mean,
anyhow?"

"Well, as nearly as I can figure it out," responded Blake, as he and his
chums marched onward in the darkness, "Secor and Labenstein must have
hidden the films in the hut after they stole them from the place where
we went down under the gas attack. For some reason they did not at once
turn them over to the German command."

"Maybe they wanted to hold them out and get the best offer they could
for our property," suggested Charlie.

"Maybe," assented Blake. "Whatever their game was," and he spoke in a
low tone which could not carry to the two plotters who were walking
ahead with the German captain, "they went to the hut to get the films
they had left there. And as luck would have it, we came on the scene at
the same time."

"I wish we'd been a little ahead of time," complained Macaroni. "Then we
might have gotten back with our films."

"No use crying over a broken milk bottle," remarked Joe.

"That's right," Blake said. "Anyhow, there we were and there Secor and
his German friend were when the others came and----"

"Here we are now!" finished Joe grimly.

And there, indeed, they were, prisoners, with what fate in store none of
them could say.

Suddenly from the darkness a sentinel challenged in German, and the
captain of the little party answered, passing on with the prisoners.

A little later they turned down into a sort of trench and went along
this, the boys being so placed that each walked between two Germans,
who carried their guns with bayonets fixed, as though they would use
them on the slightest provocation. But Blake and his chums gave none.

And then, making a sudden turn, the party came to what was evidently an
outpost of importance. There were several large underground chambers,
fitted up with some degree of comfort and a number of officers and
soldiers about. Some were eating, some smoking, and others drinking, and
still others sleeping. In one room could be seen a rough table, laden
with maps and papers, and there were many electric lights, showing to
what degree of perfection the German military system was carried out at
this point. A portable dynamo and gasolene engine probably furnished the
current.

The captives were halted, and a brief talk in German took place between
the captain and the officer to whom he reported. What was said Blake and
his chums could not, of course, hear, nor could they have understood had
they heard.

A little later, however, they were ordered to march on, and then were
shown into an underground room, none too clean and quite dark, and the
door was banged shut on them. Just before this they had seen Secor and
Labenstein go off in another direction, still carrying the boxes of
films.

The echoes of the retreating footsteps of the men who had thrust them
into their prison soon died away, and the boys were left to themselves
in a veritable cell that was unpleasantly dirty and dark.

"Whew!" whistled Joe, after a moment of silence. "This time we certainly
are up against it!"

Suddenly a light flashed in the darkness.

"What's that?" asked Joe sharply.

"I want to see what sort of hotel accommodations they've given us," was
Blake's grim answer, as he flashed his pocket light about. The Germans
had not taken those from the boys, and they were soon inspecting their
prison.

It was merely a hole dug underground, earth, supported by timbers,
forming the floor, ceiling and sides, while the entrance was made of a
plank door, with cracks large enough to show that a passage ran
outside--a passage along which men passed with a frequency which seemed
to indicate that escape would be exceedingly difficult.

"Well, we've just got to make the best of it," said Blake. "I'm going to
get what rest I can."

It could not be much at best, for there was no furniture in the cavelike
cell. The boys curled up in corners--fortunately it was not cold--and
thought over their situation. That it was very desperate they all
admitted.

That night was like a bad dream to them. At times they dozed off in
light slumber, but, as far as they knew, their captors did not so much
as look in on them. They did not know, of course, when morning came,
but they judged that the sun had risen when, after several hours of
waiting, a tin can of water and some food was thrust in to them.

"And I'm hungry enough to eat even German sausage," announced Macaroni,
as he inspected the food. It was coarse but satisfying, and the boys
felt better when they had eaten it.

Later came a squad of Germans, one of whom spoke enough English to order
Blake and his chums to follow them. They were led out of the dungeon,
along a covered underground passage, and then they suddenly emerged into
daylight.

"Well, it's a comfort to be able to see," remarked Joe, as he and his
companions looked about.

Without a word as to where they were to be taken, the boys were marched
along, and, for a moment, they feared they were to be the victims of a
firing party. But a turn in the course showed them just ahead a group of
buildings about which could be seen some German officers.

"Evidently we're going to be questioned by some one in authority,"
suggested Blake. "Well, that looks more hopeful."

They were at the very edge of an enclosure containing the official
headquarters of that part of the German army, and the leader of their
squad was about to reply to the challenge of the sentinel when a
curious sound was borne to the ears of the boys. It was like a fast
motor operating at some distance.

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