“Yes, black up and everything!” exclaimed Bob. “It’ll be fun! Let’s do it!” CHAPTER XXIV A BLACK-FACE PURSUIT Life in the United States army is very nicely balanced, at least in the big cantonments where civilians are turned into soldiers in about six months’ time. That is to say there is a well-balanced schedule, so much work and so much play. Reading the schedule of what is required in the way of drill would lead one to suppose that there was no time for play at all, but there is, even on the French front, with grim No Man’s Land staring one in the face. Shows and plays are sometimes given within sound of the big guns. The officers in charge of the men well knew that “all work and no play makes Jack,” not only a dull boy, but a poor soldier. So recreation is planned for. Part of this plan is to let the young fellows amuse themselves, make their own fun, which sometimes is better than having it made by others. The captain of the company in which Ned, Bob and Jerry lived, moved and had their being, had planned a minstrel show, as Bob had said. On the cantonment grounds was a theater to which professionals occasionally came from the cities to give their services. Almost every night there was a moving picture show. “But this is to be different,” explained Bob, to his listening chums. “Captain Trainer has found out that there’s considerable talent in our bunch----” “Ahem! did you look at me?” asked Jerry, assuming an air of importance. “He pointed to me!” declared Ned. “You’re both wrong! It was I--Macbeth--he meant!” declaimed a lad with a deep and resonant voice. “Oh, cut it out and listen,” advised Bob. “This is the game. The captain has found out there are a lot of fellows in our company who have acted in amateur theatricals, and there are a few professionals. So he’s going to get up a minstrel show, and let the other companies see what we can do. There’ll be a little admission charged, and if we make any money it will go into the company’s fund to buy----” “Grub!” some one cut in, and everybody laughed, for by this time all knew Bob’s weak point. “Well, grub, if you like,” he admitted. “But say, fellows, won’t it be great?” “Sure!” came in a chorus. And then the boys fell to talking about the coming minstrel show. Preparations for it went on apace. Captain Trainer was an enthusiast, and when he set out to do a thing he carried it to a finish. It was that way with the minstrel show. A good many “try-outs” and much practice work were necessary. Then, after a deal of weeding work, like that which a careful gardener gives his plants, a very good show was evolved.