"That is one comfort," sighed the old actor. "Well, I suppose there is no help for it. Where is the bog hole?" "I think this one will do," said the manager, pointing to one where Mr. Towne had fallen into the mud. "You will come along, pretending to look for the fleeing lovers, and you will unwittingly wade out into the bog. There you will struggle to release yourself, but you will be unable to, and will call for help. Mr. Switzer, who is also on the trail, will respond and he will wade out and save you." "Excuse me," remarked the German actor, softly, "but vy iss it necessary dot I rescue him?" "Why he can't rescue himself," declared Mr. Pertell. "You've got to do it." "No, dot I did not mean. I meant dot as Herr Towne iss alretty wet and muddy, dot he could as vell do der rescue act." "That's so. It will be better!" said the manager. "I didn't think of that. I'll have Towne do it. He can come along on the film right after he's pulled himself out of the ditch. Fix it up that way, Russ." "All right, Mr. Pertell." "Have I got to go in more mud and water?" demanded the fastidious actor. "Yes," replied the manager. "But it won't be much. Just a few feet or so of film." Mr. Towne groaned, but there was no help for it. And really he could not get much muddier. Accordingly, after some intervening scenes had been filmed to make the action of the story, as revised, more plausible, Russ moved his camera near the bog hole, ready to get views of Mr. Bunn, when he should stumble into it, and also Mr. Towne, when the latter came to the rescue. "All ready now--let her go!" called the manager. "Come along, Mr. Bunn." The old actor advanced, but evidently with very little liking for his part. "Oh, be more natural!" cried Mr. Pertell. "You are supposed to be the father of the young man who is eloping, and you want to prevent him. Put some spirit into your work!" Thereupon Mr. Bunn tried, and with better success. But when he came to the edge of the bog hole he hesitated. "Hold on! Stop the camera!" cried the manager, sharply. "That won't do at all. This must be spontaneous. Run right along, and don't stop when you see the bog hole. Plunge right into it. Why, it isn't up to your knees, Mr. Bunn, and the weather is hot." "All right, here I go!" he said, resignedly. "Wait! Go back and do that last bit over again," ordered the manager. "Russ, cut out the last few pictures and substitute these that are to come. Now, Mr. Bunn!" The Shakespearean actor started over again, and he was "game" enough to pretend that he did not in the least mind floundering into the bog hole. As he came to the edge of it, in he plunged. He went down much deeper than to his knees, and as he felt himself sinking he called out: "Help! Help! Save me! Save me!" "That's it! That's the way to do it! That's being what I call realistic!" shouted Mr. Pertell, who always waxed enthusiastic over a new idea.