The boys looked on eagerly while the battle kept up. They saw the soldiers charge back and forth. The cannon shot out puffs of white smoke, but no cannon balls, of course, for no one wanted to be hurt. Back and forth rushed the soldiers on horses, and others on foot, firing with their rifles. Of course they were not real soldiers, but were dressed in soldiers' uniforms to make the picture seem real. I suppose you have often seen in moving picture theatres pictures of a battle. It was well that Mr. Bobbsey and the others had gotten out of the way, for shortly afterward the men rushed right across the spot where Bert and Harry had been standing. "If we were there, then we'd have been walked on," said Bert. "Yes, and we'd have had our pictures taken, too," said Harry, pointing to the man with the camera who had taken a new position. "I wouldn't mind that, would you?" asked Bert. "No, I don't know as I would," replied the country cousin. "It would be fun to see yourself in moving pictures, I think. Oh, look! That horse went down, and the soldier shot right over his head." A horse had stumbled and fallen, bringing down the rider with him. But whether this was an accident, or whether it was done on purpose, to make the moving picture look more natural, the boys could not tell. The firing was now louder than ever. A number of cannon were being used, horses drawing them up with loud rumblings, while the men wheeled the guns into place, loaded and fired them. On all sides men were falling down, pretending to be shot, for those who took the moving pictures wanted them to seem as nearly like real war as possible. "Oh, here they are!" suddenly exclaimed a voice back of Mr. Bobbsey and the others. Turning, Bert saw his mother, with Aunt Sarah, Flossie, Freddie and Nan. They had come up the hill to look down into the valley and see what all the excitement was about. "Yes, here we are!" cried Mr. Bobbsey. "Isn't this great? It's a sham battle." "What for?" asked his wife, and she had to speak loudly to be heard above the rattle and bang of the guns. "For moving pictures," answered Mr. Bobbsey, pointing to the men with the cameras, for now three or four of them were at work, taking views of the "fight" from different places. "Mercy! What a racket!" exclaimed Aunt Sarah. "Oh, I don't like it!" cried Flossie, covering her ears with her chubby hands. "Take me away, mamma; I'm afraid of the guns!" "Pooh! There's nothing to be scared of!" exclaimed Freddie. "I'm going to be a soldier when I grow up, and shoot a gun." "You can't play with me if you do," declared Flossie, when the bang of the cannon stopped for a moment, leaving the air quiet. "I don't want to play with girls--I'm going to be a fighting soldier!" declared Freddie. "Hi! Hark to the guns! Boom! Boom!" and he jumped up and down as the cannon thundered again. "Oh, I don't like it! I want to go home and play with my doll!" half-sobbed Flossie. "I don't like fighting."