to the shack, and have a rehearsal."

"A dress one?" asked Mr. Piper, meaning that everything would be done
just as if the pictures were being taken. "You're not going to have the
real fire now; are you?"

"No, indeed," said the manager. "We can only burn the cottage down
once."

The rehearsal went off well, and Blake and Joe, who were to make the
films, watched the work with interest. They were anxious for the time
to come to set the fire.

"Well, I guess that will do," decided Mr. Ringold, after a day or two
spent in getting the actors and actresses familiar with their parts.
"We'll do the business to-morrow morning."

Accordingly, they all assembled at the shack, and went through the
various acts leading up to the fire scene. The boys ground away
industriously at the handles of the moving picture cameras.

All went well until it came time to set the fire. Then, whether the
building was older and more tinder-like than was supposed, or whether
Mr. Levinberg, the "villain" who fired the shack, used too much red fire
and kerosene, was not explained.

At any rate, the little building was more quickly wrapped in flame and
smoke than was expected, and Mr. Ringold yelled excitedly:

"Come on out, C. C.! Don't wait any longer. Never mind if it isn't time!
Rush out with the girl before it's too late!"

"That's what I'll do!" cried the comedian, appearing in the doorway,
carrying Miss Lee. There was little danger now, as long as he was in the
open, unless some tongue of fire should catch the girl's dress.

"Hurry!" cried the manager, and C. C. sprinted out of the reach of the
fire.

And then something entirely unexpected, and not down on the bill,
happened. A number of fishermen, who had seen the blaze from down the
beach, came running up, all excited, thinking the fire was an accident.

"Get that old pumping engine!" shouted one grizzled salt. "We'll have
that blaze out in no time!"

"Form a bucket brigade!" suggested another.

"No! No! Let it burn!" cried Mr. Ringold. "We want it to burn!"

"Want it to burn?" was shouted at him, by the fisherman who had proposed
the pump. "Be you plumb crazy? Come on, boys, form that bucket brigade.
Some of you run that hand-pump over here where we can pour water in the
tank. Stretch the hose!"

"They'll spoil the picture!" cried Mr. Ringold, rushing about, and
trying to keep the fishermen away.

Joe and Blake, not having orders to the contrary, and not knowing but
what