"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.