WINNING OUT
“It seems to me he takes a lot for granted,” said Bob, after the manager had left the room. “How does he know that both of us won’t get rattled right in the middle of the thing and ball up the whole programme?”
“I guess it’s because he’s heard something about both you and Joe from Mr. Brandon, and he’s pretty sure you’ll come up to the scratch,” said Larry. “That’s the way I figure it out, anyway.”
“Well, we’ll do the best we can to live up to our reputation, if that’s the case,” said Bob. “I’ll read these things aloud the way I think they should go, Larry, and you correct me if I’m wrong.”
“Go ahead,” replied Larry. “You’ve been telling me so much about radio that I ought to be willing to tell you something about how to put a joke over.”
Bob settled down to his task in earnest then, 205 and for an hour rehearsed the jokes with Larry, who drilled him in the most effective way to tell them to advantage.
“There!” exclaimed Larry, at the end of that time. “I think you ought to get by all right now, Bob. You’re doing fine.”
“Well, if they don’t like me, I can’t help it,” said Bob. “At any rate, they won’t be able to throw any dead cats at me. That’s one big advantage that radio entertainers have.”
“That’s true enough,” laughed Larry, “although I hadn’t thought about it before. Maybe I’d have had a poor pussy cat wrapped about my neck before this if I’d been doing my act in a regular theater.”
“Nonsense!” replied Bob. “Nobody threw anything at you when you were acting in a regular theater, did he?”
“No,” admitted Larry. “That is, nothing except big bunches of American Beauty roses,” he hastily added.
“Oh, of course, that’s understood,” gibed Joe. “I suppose you had to hire a big truck every evening to cart them away.”
“Yes, every evening,” grinned Larry. “And the applause——good gracious! The people for blocks around used to complain about it.”
“You don’t get much applause now,” laughed Bob. “How does it seem to perform for the benefit 206 of a telephone transmitter instead of an audience?”
“It never bothered me much,” replied Larry. “It seems to be pretty hard for some of the actors, though, especially the comedians. When they spring a funny joke they’re used to hearing their audience laugh, and when they don’t hear anything, they get peeved sometimes. They can’t get used to the blank silence after their best efforts.”
“I can easily understand how it would have that effect,” said Bob. “It might save them a lot of trouble, though. Take the case of a black-face artist. He wouldn’t need to put on any make-up at all, if he didn’t want to.”
“But if they don’t, they don’t feel natural, and it’s apt to spoil their act. An actor is pretty temperamental, you know.”
“Well, I’m beginning to feel that way myself,” sighed Joe. “I wish it were time for us to spring our stuff on an unsuspecting public and get it over with. It must be pretty near time for the first number now, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” answered Larry. “We’d better go on up to the transmitting room. The worst crime a public performer can commit is to be late, you know.”
“And to think that I’m the poor fellow that’s supposed to open the show!” exclaimed Bob. 207
“My, I’ll be as glad to get it over with as you will, Joe.”
“That’s saying a mouthful,” replied his friend. “Oh, what a relief it will be!”
“If the audience can stand it, you two ought to be able to,” said Larry, cruelly. “Quit your worrying.”
“I guess if the audience can stand you, it won’t mind us,” returned Bob, giving Larry a friendly poke in the ribs. “Guess that will hold you a little while, old timer.”
Before Larry could think of a suitable retort they had entered the transmitting room, and he had to postpone his reply for the time being.
Mr. Allard was already there.
“How do you feel?” he asked them, in greeting. “Probably a trifle nervous?”
“Just a little bit,” Bob admitted. “I think we’ll make out all right, though.”
“Good!” replied the manager. “Don’t get rattled, and you’ll go over all right. From what Mr. Brandon has told me, you don’t either of you rattle easily, though.”
“We’re ready any time you are, sir,” was Bob’s comment.
“All right, then,” said Mr. Allard, crisply. “It’s time now, Morton,” addressing the announcer. “You can go ahead and announce Layton’s act.” 208
This the announcer did, and then, tense with excitement but thoroughly master of himself, Bob stepped to the transmitter and propounded the first of his conundrums. With book in hand, Larry stood at his elbow to prompt him in case he forgot anything, but his friendly services were not needed. Bob went through the whole list without a mistake and with no fumbling, speaking clearly and distinctly into the transmitter. Although he could not see his audience, he nevertheless sensed the listening thousands, and felt the lift and exhilaration that come to the successful entertainer. His part in the programme was short, a scant ten minutes, but he enjoyed every minute of it.
When he had asked the last riddle, he stepped back, and mopped big drops of perspiration from his face.
“Whew!” he exclaimed. “I’m glad that’s over, although it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“You’ve got to go all through it again when you give the answers,” Larry reminded him, cruelly.
“I guess I can stand it,” said Bob. “Did I do it all right?”
“Sure you did,” they all assured him. “It was good work.”
In a little while the time came for Joe to give 209 his recitations, and he, too, did good work. It was easy to see that the manager was pleased with both of them, and, indeed, he did not hesitate to say so.
“If you fellows didn’t live so far away, I’d be glad to make you a regular part of the programme,” he told them later. “You both have a good delivery, and I can see that Brandon was right when he said you didn’t lack nerve. It’s too bad you don’t live in this town.”
“I don’t think we could do much along that line just now, anyway,” said Bob, much pleased. “Between high school and building radio sets we don’t have much time left over. We appreciate your giving us a chance on the bill to-night, though. We never dreamed of such a thing when we left the house this morning.”
“I can’t wait to get back to Clintonia to see what Herb and Jimmy have to say,” remarked Joe. “I’ll bet their eyes are sticking out now like a crab’s.”
The boys then said good-night to Mr. Allard and Larry, and took a somewhat hurried departure, as they had very little time left in which to make the last train for Clintonia.
Meantime, Herb and Jimmy had been treated to the surprise of their lives. Shortly after supper Jimmy had whistled the familiar call in front of Herb’s house, and when his friend had emerged 210 had invited him to come to his house that evening.
“You know I’ve got my set rigged up now,” he said, “the one that I entered for the Ferberton prize. It didn’t win the prize, but it’s a pretty good set all the same. There’s a good radio programme on for this evening, and I suppose you want to hear it as much as I do.”
“Yes, I certainly do,” answered Herb. “Besides, if we hear Larry, we’ll know that the three of them arrived at the other end on time. It will be almost as good as having them right here with us.”
“Get your coat on, then, and we’ll be going,” said Jimmy. “It’s not so far from seven o’clock, now.”
Herb ran back into the house, and, emerging shortly afterward, joined his friend, and they set out for Jimmy’s house.
“Conditions ought to be ideal for radio to-night,” Herb remarked, as they walked along. “It’s clear as a bell. There won’t be enough static to-night to bother any one.”
“So much the better,” said Jimmy. “That set of mine doesn’t get very good results when the static is bad. I thought it was the real thing once, but compared with the sets we’ve made since, I can see where it might be a lot better.”
“Well, there aren’t many things that are so good that they can’t be improved,” remarked 211 Herb. “I suppose even if I set out to make a perfect set, I might fall a little short of the mark somewhere.”
“That seems almost impossible, but of course you ought to know,” replied Jimmy, with a grin,
“I only wish we had our set finished that we’re working on now,” said Herb. “Then we ought to get real results.”
“It won’t take us so very long now,” returned Jimmy. “Most of the hard work is done, and all we have to do now is to assemble it, I guess we can get busy at that pretty soon now.”
“The sooner the better,” answered Herb. “It seems to me that we’ve been at it an awfully long while.”
“Not so long when you consider all the work that there is to a set like that,” said Jimmy. “But here we are, and I’m beginning to feel hungry again, although it isn’t very long since I had supper. I think I’ll hunt around in the kitchen and see if I can’t find a few doughnuts. I’m pretty sure that there are some left in the crock.”
“I don’t see how there can be, if you knew they were there,” laughed Herb. “But I hope you do find some. Your mother’s doughnuts have a reputation, you know.”
“We’ll go up to my room first, and then I’ll have a look,” said Jimmy.
Herb had hardly gotten his coat off before 212 Jimmy returned with several golden brown doughnuts.
“Here we are,” he said, triumphantly. “Now to enjoy the radio!”
Herb had brought a pair of ear phones with him, and he and Jimmy connected their phones in series, so that they could both listen at the same time.
They had hardly got settled when they heard the resonant tones of the announcer.
“Mr. Robert Layton will ask a number of conundrums, the answers to come later.” So spoke the announcer.
Herb and Jimmy gazed at each other open-mouthed.
“Wh-what did he say?” gasped Jimmy, at length. “Did you hear it the same as I did, Herb?”
“He said Robert Layton, all right!” exclaimed Herb. “What do you suppose——” But here he was interrupted by the well known voice of their friend.
“Give me a pencil!” exclaimed Herb. “I’ll guess those before the answers come, or die trying. We can’t let Bob get away with this altogether.”
“I should say not!” agreed Jimmy, as Herb started scribbling furiously. “I can’t believe yet 213 that it’s really Bob talking. How do you suppose he ever got on the programme?”
Herb shook his head without stopping his writing, and at last had all the riddles written down.
“Never mind the rest of the programme,” he said. “We’ll try to solve these things first.”
But while they were still struggling to find answers to the knotty riddles, they nearly went over backward in their chairs as another familiar name sounded in their ears. The announcer was giving Joe’s name this time, and all Herb and Jimmy could do was to sit and look at each other and mutter inarticulately as Joe recited his selections. When they were over, both boys took off their head phones and gazed solemnly at each other.
“Can you beat it?” asked Herb at length, in a bewildered way.
“Nope,” responded Jimmy. “I’m not even going to try. Just think of those two Indians actually getting on a broadcasting programme! I’m knocked so hard that I’ll have to eat another doughnut to set me straight again. Finish ’em up, Herb.”
And Herb “finished ’em up” while they both ruminated on the incomprehensible vagaries of fate.
“We’ve got to go over and see ’em do it,” declared Jimmy. 214
“Right you are,” returned his chum. “I won’t believe it till I see it with my own eyes.”
They saw it with their own eyes a week later when the radio boys gave a second performance which was even more successful than the first, since they had got over the nervousness that affected them at the start. The manager renewed his importunities for them to take a regular engagement, assuring them that they had made a decided hit. The best the boys could see their way clear to agree to, however, was to appear one night in each week, and this programme was carried out for the several weeks ensuing, with ever-increasing ability on the part of Bob and Joe and marked satisfaction to the manager of the sending station.