“To-morrow,” said Mr. Ringold, while Blake and Joe told Mr. Hadley of their poor success in finding Mr. Duncan. The photographer, as did the other members of the company, sympathized with the lad. Mr. Ringold said that as soon as they got settled the boys could go to San Francisco to look up the shipping agent.
The transfer to the small seacoast settlement was a matter of some work, but in a week all was arranged, and the members of the company were settled in a large, comfortable house, close to the beach.
“And now for some rehearsals,” said Mr. Ringold, one morning. “One of the scenes calls for a shipwrecked man coming ashore in a small boat. Now, C. C., I guess you’ll have to be the man this time, as I need the others for shore parts. Get the cameras ready.”
“I—I’m to be shipwrecked; am I?” inquired Mr. Piper. “Do I have to fall overboard?”
“Not unless you want to,” said Mr. Ringold, consulting the manuscript of the play.
“Then I’m not going to, for I’ll catch my death of cold if I do.”
“Hum! I’m glad he didn’t have any other objections,” murmured the theatrical man. “This is going to be easy.”
The preparations were made, it being customary to rehearse the scenes and acts before “filming” them to secure good results. A boat was launched, after some trouble on account of the surf, and with the aid of some fishermen, “C. C. was finally sent to sea,” which was a joke, as Blake remarked.
“And now come in with the waves,” ordered Mr. Ringold, who was directing the drama. “Hang over the edge of the boat, C. C., and look as if you hadn’t had any food or water for a week.”
“They say an actor never eats, anyhow,” murmured Mr. Hadley, who, with the boys, was ready with the cameras; “so I guess C. C. won’t have to pretend much.”