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
