or three times to unfasten it.
But he did succeed in rising at last, and then, to make himself look
as much like a spectre as possible, he held both arms straight out as
he walked slowly down the stage.

It is very likely that he would have made a good impression if it had
not been for that portion of his costume that did not properly belong
to the character he was assuming. The long ends of tape that he had
insisted on allowing to hang down from his ankles persisted in getting
under his feet, and he tripped himself up with a force that gave
Hamlet a genuine fright. The sheet which covered Ben's head prevented
him from rising as quickly as he would have liked, and while he was
trying to disengage himself from it, Paul, realizing that he should
run away, did so by leaping over the prostrate ghost, to the great
delight of the patrons.

The shock of Ben's fall and Paul's leap so shook the frail structure
which Johnny had built that the curtain came down with a thud, tearing
away from its fastenings above, and the poor ghost was made doubly a
prisoner by this additional covering.

"Don't tear it, Ben!" shouted Johnny, fearing lest his artistic labors
in the way of the "Wild Indian" would be ruined, and then he and
Mopsey sprang on the stage, rescuing the curtain from the frantic
clutch of the ghost, and leaving that worthy to get to his feet as
best he might.

Of course the audience enjoyed all this highly; and while they hooted
and shrieked in the excess of their delight, Ben succeeded in escaping
from the rather awkward mantle.

"I can dance, if I don't do the ghost very well!" he shouted, almost
angrily, to the noisy audience; and then he began to prove the truth
of his words with a force that threatened the immediate destruction of
the entire theatrical surroundings.

And the audience seemed to realize that Ben could dance, for they
insisted on his continuing that portion of his duties until he was
bathed in perspiration, and so tired that he could hardly move.

Of course, now that the curtain had been wrecked, there was no
opportunity for dividing the acts, and after the applause which Ben's
efforts had produced died away, Mopsey sent Nelly on to sing again.
The audience greeted her kindly, as before, and not only insisted on
joining in the chorus, but demanded more than she had intended to
give. They were evidently determined to get the full value of their
money, and, suspecting that she would appear no more