CHAPTER XXIV
A BLACK-FACE PURSUIT
Life in the United States army is very nicely balanced, at least in thebig cantonments where civilians are turned into soldiers in about sixmonths’ time.
That is to say there is a well-balanced schedule, so much work and somuch play. Reading the schedule of what is required in the way of drillwould lead one to suppose that there was no time for play at all, butthere is, even on the French front, with grim No Man’s Land staring onein the face. Shows and plays are sometimes given within sound of thebig guns.
The officers in charge of the men well knew that “all work and no playmakes Jack,” not only a dull boy, but a poor soldier. So recreationis planned for. Part of this plan is to let the young fellows amusethemselves, make their own fun, which sometimes is better than havingit made by others.
The captain of the company in which Ned, Bob and Jerry lived, moved andhad their being, had planned a minstrel show, as Bob had said. On thecantonment grounds was a theater to which professionals occasionallycame from the cities to give their services. Almost every night therewas 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 ourbunch----”
“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 witha deep and resonant voice.
“Oh, cut it out and listen,” advised Bob. “This is the game. Thecaptain has found out there are a lot of fellows in our company whohave acted in amateur theatricals, and there are a few professionals.So he’s going to get up a minstrel show, and let the other companiessee what we can do. There’ll be a little admission charged, and if wemake any money it will go into the company’s fund to buy----”
“Grub!” some one cut in, and everybody laughed, for by this time allknew Bob’s weak point.
“Well, grub, if you like,” he admitted. “But say, fellows, won’t it begreat?”
“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 wasthat 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 giveshis plants, a very good show was evolved.
It took pattern after the usual black-face affairs, with end-men,bones, tambourines, the interlocutor and specialists. Some of the ladswere very clever, and really were almost as good as professionals. Ned,Bob and Jerry were called on to state what they could do, and when itwas found that they had a comic-song trio “up their sleeves,” they wereput down for that.
“We’ll make a hit all right,” declared Bob, after one of the rehearsals.
“If we don’t get hit ourselves,” added Jerry.
“That’s right!” chimed in Ned. “I understand there is a premium on oldcabbage stumps and other articles of that nature.”
“Don’t let him scare you, Jerry,” advised the stout lad. “He’s onlyafraid of that high note of his. But don’t worry, Ned. We’ll cover youup if you make a break!”
“Huh! I like your nerve. Now come on, let’s try that jazz song overagain,” which they did, to the delight of those privileged to listen tothe try-out.
In the camp was a professional who showed the boys how to make upwith grease paint; burnt cork, the time-honored method of making ablack-faced comedian, is now only used by boys when they play in thebarn. On the stage, even for amateurs, black grease paint is used.
“Say, you look just like a negro!” exclaimed Bob to Jerry, as they weregetting dressed in the evening before the show was to be given. “You’veeven got the walk down pat.”
“Yes. I’ve been practicing a bit,” Jerry admitted. “If you’re going todo a thing, do it right, I say. You’re not bad yourself, Bob.”
“Oh, well, my figure is against me. But I guess we’ll make out allright.”
Indeed the three motor boys were taking special pains with theirappearance. That is not to say the other actors were not also, but Ned,Bob, and Jerry seemed to enter into the spirit of it more than some oftheir chums.
The various acts came off as planned, and were much appreciated by theaudience. There were many local hits and take-offs, not only on theenlisted men, but on the officers as well. Mild fun was poked at thedifferent weaknesses of many in the ranks, and not a few of thosehigher up, and considerable laughter resulted.
The three Cresville friends did their act so well that they wererecalled again and again, and if they had not prepared something forencores, which Jerry had insisted on, they might have had merely to bowtheir thanks. As it was they sang verse after verse of a comical song,bringing in all their friends, to the great delight of the latter.
“You couldn’t have done better, boys,” complimented Captain Trainer,as Ned, Bob, and Jerry came off the stage for the last time. “I’m gladyou’re with us. When we get over on the other side I hope you’ll stillkeep up your spirits enough to give us some enjoyment, when we’ll needit more than we do here.”
“We’ll do our best,” said Jerry modestly.
“You’d think they were a bunch of professionals to hear them talk,”came a low, sneering voice to the ears of the three chums, when thecaptain walked away. There was no need to ask who had spoken. It wasPug Kennedy, and he was standing just outside the dressing room,talking to one or two of his special cronies. He did not have manyassociates. His “scrappy” nature prevented this.
“I’ve a good mind to go over and give him a punch,” declared Ned,angrily. “He’s made too many of those uncalled-for remarks of late.I’m not going to stand it!”
“Don’t start a row now,” advised Jerry. “It will spoil all the fun. Lethim alone. I heard something to the effect that he was going to applyfor a transfer, and if he does he won’t bother us any more.”
“I hope to goodness he does,” said Bob. “He makes me tired!”
Pug gazed over in the direction of the three friends, almost as ifinviting trouble, and then, seeing that they were not going to resentthe remark he had made with the intention that they should hear it,he lighted a cigarette and strolled out into the darkness. Disciplinewas somewhat relaxed on account of the minstrel show, and permissionwas given for the men to remain up an hour later than usual, while theguard lines were extended to allow considerable strolling about.
“Come on, let’s go for a walk,” suggested Bob. “It will cool us off.”
“What, walk with this black stuff on our faces?” exclaimed Ned. “If anyone sees us we’ll be taken for negroes.”
“What of it?” asked Jerry. “Every one knows what’s going on. Besides,we can’t wash up yet. We have to go on in the final chorus in about anhour. I’m with you, Bob! We’ll take a walk and cool off.”
They strolled through the camp, and presently found themselves near itsoutskirts. They had plenty of time, as they had finished their specialpart of the programme, and only came on in the grand “wind-up.”
As they were walking along, talking intermittently of the show andthe chances of going “over there,” Bob, who was slightly in the lead,called in a low voice:
“Look, fellows! See him!”
“See who?” asked Ned. “Do you mean Pug Kennedy?”
“No, but look over under that light!” went on Bob, pointing. “Don’tyou see that man. It’s Crooked Nose again! Come on! We’ll get him thistime!” and he started to run, followed by Ned and Jerry, who did,indeed, see in the glare of a camp light, the form of a man. And, as hemomentarily turned his face toward them, they saw that his countenancewas marred by a bent and crooked nose.
The boys gave pursuit, their faces still blackened.