"Hey, don't forget about me!" bellowed a voice from the depths; "the
blooming old pole turned round then, and I slipped back five feet. Hold
her steady, you fellows, and give me a chance to climb out!"
"That's a fact. Come along, Jerry," said Frank.
So the imprisoned one crawled out, only too glad to once more plant his
feet on solid ground.
"Talk to me about your trapeze acts, and your parachute drops, I guess I
know all the sensations. And let me tell you I don't hanker after any
more of the same kind. Now, what's all this row about your black box,
Will?" cried Jerry, as he felt of his various joints to make sure he was
all sound.
"It's been hooked while we were getting you out. That Pet Peters has made
way with it. Oh! if he ever tears open the package that contains my
beloved films, I'm just ruined. All my work for nothing; and they can
never be replaced again."
"We'll get 'em, don't you fear," exploded Andy. "I'll run back to camp
right away, and make him give 'em up."
"If you only would, I'd be ever so much obliged, Andy. Three dozen, yes,
four now, of the finest scenes a fellow ever could take. Why, some of
them are _immense_!"
"I suppose you are referring now to that one where that yellow dog was
chasing me around the tree; but I wouldn't die of grief if posterity
never got a squint at that picture," said Jerry, shaking his head.
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