"
"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.
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