as the chopping would have to be done quite close to the imprisoned
one, a more expert hand had better do it.

Sandy quickly had cut a way so the actor could emerge, and at Mr.
Pertell's suggestion Russ made moving pictures of it.

"I'll have a new scene written in the play to fit this," the manager
said. "Mr. Bunn, I think you might climb that tree over there," and
he indicated one within range of the camera.

"Climb a tree! Me!" exclaimed the actor. "What for, pray?"

"Well, I'll have a scene fixed up to indicate that the party gets
lost in the woods, and you climb a tree to see if you can spy any
landmarks to lead them out of their plight. Just shin up that tree,
if you please, and put your hand over your eyes when you get up high
enough to see across the tops of the other trees. You know--register
that you are looking for the path."

"I refuse to do it!" cried Wellington Bunn. "To climb a tree is
beneath my dignity."

"Then climb a tree and get above it," suggested the manager, drily.
"You've got to climb; I want you in this scene."

The tall actor groaned, but there was no help for it. Up he went, not
without many misgivings and grunts, for he was not an athlete.

"I say!" he cried, when part way up, "if I fall and get hurt you'll
have to pay me damages, Mr. Pertell."

"You won't get hurt much," was the not very comforting answer. "And
you won't fall, if you keep a tight hold with your arms and legs. But
if you do, there's lots of soft moss at the foot of the tree."

"Oh, this life! This terrible life!" groaned Mr. Bunn. "Why did I
ever go into moving pictures?"

No one answered him. Perhaps they thought the reason was that he had
outlived his drawing powers in the legitimate drama.

Finally he reached the top of the tree, and pretended to be
looking for a path for the lost ones, while Russ, always at the
camera, successfully filmed him.

"That's enough--come on down," ordered Mr. Pertell. Mr. Bunn came
down more quickly than he went up, and the last few feet he slid down
so rapidly that he scratched his hands, and tore his trousers.

"You'll have to pay for them," he said, ruefully, as he looked at the
rent.

"Put it in your expense bill," suggested the manager. "We'll do
anything in reason. And now let's get back before anything else
happens. Is to-day Friday, the thirteenth?" he asked with a smile,
for really a number of occurrences out of the ordinary had taken
place. Fortunately, however,