"That will do for this part of the drama," announced Mr. Pertell, when an
hour or more had been spent in taking various films. "We will now go
ashore. Put her over there," he called to the man in the pilot house on
deck, pointing to a place where, back of the moss-fringed row of trees,
could be seen some stately palms.

The rather clumsy boat turned slowly toward shore, and a little later had
"poked her nose," as Russ expressed it, against a luxuriant growth of
tropical vegetation, in the midst of some low palms and gigantic ferns.

The moist smell of earth and plants, and the odor of flowers was borne on
a gentle breeze.

It was a lonely spot, and just what Mr. Pertell wanted for this
particular play. On the way up the stream they had passed several small
settlements, and the population, consisting mostly of colored folk, had
rushed down to the crude landings to stare with big eyes at the passing
steamer.

"Everybody ashore!" called the manager, when the boat had been made fast.

"Oh, but we can't go through there!" complained Mr. Bunn, who, in
attempting to make his way into the deeper part of the woods, had
suffered the loss of his tall hat several times, low branches having
knocked it off.

"Wait, I'll send some of the hands ahead with axes to clear the way,"
offered the steamer captain. "It'll be easier going, then."