A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT
“Hello, Tim! Hello, Larry! How have you been?” The two actors had little reason to complain of the warmth of their reception, as the radio boys shook hands with them, pounded them on the back, and asked innumerable questions.
“You both look as though you were being treated all right,” said Joe, after they had quieted down somewhat after the first riotous greetings. “How do you like being with a regular show?”
“Oh, we manage to get along,” answered Larry. “But tell us a little of what you fellows have been doing since we saw you last. Are you still as interested in radio as ever?”
“You bet we are!” said Bob. “If you once get interested in that, I don’t think you’d ever be willing to drop it. The more you learn about it, the more you want to learn.”
“Well, that’s fine,” said Larry, heartily. “I only wish I had time enough to take it up. I’d like nothing better.” 95
“When you make a lot of money in the vaudeville business and retire, you’ll have plenty of time for it,” said Tim, with a wink at the others.
“Yes, when I do,” said Larry, scornfully. “It doesn’t strain my back at present to carry around my roll, though. I feel lucky if I can keep a jump or two ahead of the wolf, as it is. But we may both have luck and land on a big circuit, and then we’ll begin to get some real money.”
While talking, the little party had been walking at a brisk pace and now found themselves close to the theater. Many of the townspeople were going in the same direction, and most of these recognized the radio boys and looked inquisitively at their two companions. Some of their schoolmates, who knew that Larry and Tim were actors, made bold to join the group and be introduced. By the time they reached the theater Larry and Tim had quite an escort of honor, all of whom were loath to leave them at the stage door. As they disappeared within they were followed by three rousing cheers, and then all the boys made their way to the main entrance.
The radio boys had secured their tickets in advance, and were soon comfortably seated, waiting expectantly for the curtain to rise on the first act.
This proved to be an acrobatic turn of mediocre quality, and the boys waited impatiently for it 96 to finish, for Tim and Larry were billed to appear in the next act. With a moderate meed of applause, the acrobats retired. The orchestra struck up a catchy tune and the big curtain slowly rose. The scene disclosed was pretty and artistic, representing a glade in a forest, realistic trees surrounding a green clearing. Nothing was to be seen of Larry and Tim, however, and the radio boys were mystified, as both their friends had refused to tell them what the act was like. Suddenly the first piping notes of a canary bird’s song were heard, rising so clear and lifelike that even the boys themselves were deluded at first into thinking that they were listening to an actual bird. The canary song ended with a sustained trill, and then, soft and melodious, came the limpid notes of the mocking bird’s song. By this time the audience had comprehended that this was in reality a clever human imitation of bird notes, and they applauded heartily.
“Say!” whispered Jimmy, excitedly, “Larry has picked up a lot of new stuff since he was at Ocean Point. That was fine, wasn’t it?”
“Keep still,” whispered Joe, fiercely. “We want to hear every bit of this.”
Jimmy subsided, and they all listened with keen delight as Larry imitated a host of feathered songsters, each one so true to life that the audience applauded again and again. At last Larry 97 exhausted his repertoire, and for the first time appeared in the open, emerging from behind the trunk of a tree. He was heartily applauded, and as he bowed his way off the stage, the spotlight shifted, and Tim came onto the stage like a whirlwind, arms and legs flying as he did a complicated clog dance. At the most furious part Larry joined him, and they danced together, keeping such perfect time and going through such identical motions that it seemed as though they must be automatons actuated by the same string.
As a spectacular finale to the act, each one was supposed to make a dash for one of the property trees in the background, climb up it and disappear in the branches as the curtain fell. With a final wild gyration that brought spontaneous applause from the audience, each one made for his appointed tree, and started up.
Everything went as usual until Larry had almost reached the branches. Suddenly there came a cracking sound, the artificial tree swayed and tottered, and, amid horrified cries from the spectators, crashed to the stage, bringing down others on top of it as it fell. The radio boys had just time to see Larry lying, white and senseless, among the ruins when the curtain descended quickly, shutting off the scene of the accident from the audience.
So suddenly had the thing happened that at first 98 the boys could hardly believe the evidence of their eyes. For a few moments they gazed at one another in horrified silence, and then, as though all were moved simultaneously by the same thought, they rushed down the aisle and, before the ushers could stop them, climbed onto the stage. It took them a few seconds, that seemed like hours, to find their way behind the scenes to the place where the accident had occurred.
Tim, aided by several stage hands, was frantically trying to release his partner from the heavy pieces of scenery that held him pinned down. Bob and his friends fell to the work of rescue with every ounce of energy and strength that they possessed, but, work as they did, it was a considerable time before they at last managed to free their unfortunate friend.
A doctor had been sent for, and by the time Larry was laid, still unconscious, on a cot, the physician had arrived. As he made his examination his face grew more and more serious, and he shook his head doubtfully.
“He’s pretty badly hurt, I’m afraid,” he said. “We must get him to a hospital as soon as possible. I have my car outside, and if some of you will carry him out, I’ll take him there.”
In sorrowful silence Tim and the radio boys carried their injured friend out to the doctor’s automobile. Tim got in with him, and Larry was 99 whirled away to the hospital, where he faced a grim fight for life.
The radio boys followed on foot, after first telephoning to their homes to explain why they would not be home until late.
Meantime, in the theater, the performance had gone on after an announcement by the management that “Mr. Bartlett is but slightly hurt,”—so spoke the manager—“and has been taken to a hospital where he can receive better care than in the hotel.”
The radio boys followed the doctor’s car to the hospital and spent an anxious hour in the waiting room while their friend was being thoroughly examined by the head physician, for of course the announcement at the theater had been made to quiet the audience, and no one yet knew just how serious Larry’s injuries were.
“We’ll have to get Doctor Ellis to take care of him,” said Bob, while they were waiting. “I’m awfully sorry your father isn’t in town, Joe. Next to him Dr. Ellis is the best doctor in Clintonia, I guess.”
The others concurred in this view, and Bob promised to call up Dr. Ellis in the morning. After what seemed an endless wait the physician who had brought Larry to the hospital entered the waiting room.
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to see your 100 friend to-night,” he said. “His left arm is broken, and I think his back is injured, although I can’t tell yet how seriously. By this time to-morrow night I’ll be able to tell you more. Has he any relatives that should be notified of the accident?”
“I know he has a mother, who is dependent on him,” said Bob. “We’ve all heard him speak of her. I don’t know where she lives, though, but probably Tim would have her address.”
“Whose address?” asked Tim, entering the room at that moment.
“Larry’s mother’s,” said Bob. “Do you know where she lives, Tim? As the doctor says, she ought to be notified about this.”
“Yes, I know where she can be reached,” said Tim. “I’ll write to her before I go to bed to-night. Poor Larry!” and Tim tried hard to wink the tears back, but with little success.
“You mustn’t feel too bad,” advised the kindly doctor. “I think that there is little doubt that he will live, but as to whether or not he’ll fully recover, I can’t say yet. But we’ll hope for the best, and you can rest assured that everything possible will be done for him.”
The boys thanked the doctor for the help he had given their unfortunate friend, and then, after taking a sorrowful leave of Tim, started homeward. 101
The next few days were anxious ones for the radio boys. Larry hovered between life and death, and almost a week had passed before the doctors in charge of his case would say positively that he was going to pull through. At the end of that period the boys were allowed to see him, for a few minutes, after promising not to let him talk or to say anything to him that might excite him.
Larry received them with his old cheerful grin, but the boys were shocked at his wan and wasted appearance, so different from his usual vigorous self. They did not let him see this, however, but talked and joked with him in the usual way, and when the doctor finally signaled for them to leave they had the satisfaction of knowing that they had cheered their friend up and left him looking happier than when they came.