GETTING A TRIAL
Doctor Dale met the boys at the door as they came up.
"I'll be ready in a few minutes," he told them, as he admitted them to the
parlor. "Make yourselves comfortable while I get my hat and coat on, and
we'll get started."
He left the room, only to reappear a few moments later in full motoring
regalia.
"All ready," he announced. "Come on out to the garage and we'll get
started. Mr. Brandon called me up this morning, and he'll be waiting for
us at his hotel."
The boys piled into the big seven passenger touring car and were whisked
down to Mr. Brandon's hotel. He was ready and waiting and jumped into the
car almost before it had stopped. From there they sped quickly to the
hospital, and Bob and Joe helped Larry into the car.
"This is certainly a wonderful day for me," said Larry. "I don't know how
I'll ever be able to thank you folks for all that you have done for me."
"Don't even try to," said Bob. "Don't worry about it, and we'll agree not
to."
"Well, we'll let it go at that," said Larry. "But if I don't say any more,
you'll know I'm grateful, anyway."
"You've got nothing to be grateful about yet," Joe reminded him. "They may
throw you out, and that's nothing to be thankful for."
"Ouch!" exclaimed Larry. "Please don't mention it."
"Don't cross that bridge till we come to it," advised Jimmy. "I've got
some chocolate almond bars that I'll guarantee will make you forget all
your troubles while you're eating them."
"That's Jimmy's remedy for all troubles," said Herb. "Eat and forget them
is his motto."
"Well, it isn't such a bad one," remarked Frank Brandon. "I've often known
my troubles to look a lot less serious after a square meal."
"You bet," agreed Jimmy. "I know I _always_ feel better myself after a
square meal."
"I guess we all do," said Dr. Dale. "And that reminds me that I want you
all to come to my house for supper to-night after we get back."
"I guess we'll be glad to go all right," said the radio expert. "But when
you see what we do to the food, you'll probably be sorry you asked us."
"I'll take a chance on that," laughed Dr. Dale. "I generally have a pretty
good appetite myself after a motoring trip, and you young fellows will
have to step some to beat me."
"Well, we'll back Jimmy against any entry," grinned Bob. "We plan to enter
him in a pie-eating contest some day, and when we do we'll bet a lot of
money on him to win."
"I'll do my best to justify your confidence," retorted Jimmy. "I wouldn't
mind backing myself with a small piece of change. Pies just seem to be my
natural prey."
"Wait till I get well again," said Larry. "And you'll have some
competition from me. It has always been my highest ambition to be around
some day when a pie wagon gets hit by an automobile."
"Jerusalem!" said Jimmy. "That would be heaven on earth, wouldn't it?"
"That's probably your idea of it," said Joe. "I suppose you'd rather have
streets paved with pie than with gold."
"Oh, well, what's the use of talking about it?" sighed Jimmy. "It's all
too good to be true anyway."
"It's a wonder you fellows wouldn't cut out that talk and look at the
landscape a little," said Bob. "You're missing some pretty fine
scenery."
"It is beautiful," remarked Frank Brandon. "It's too bad we haven't got
further to go, as long as Doctor Dale is buying the gasoline."
"Oh, it's cheap at any price," laughed Dr. Dale. "I don't know what I
would ever do without this car."
The miles rolled rapidly behind them, and before they realized it they
were on the outskirts of New York. The boys thoroughly enjoyed the ride
through the city; probably more than did Dr. Dale, to whom the heavy
traffic was anything but a pleasure. They finally reached the downtown
ferries, however, and after a slight wait in line, got on a boat. The boys
were absorbed by the busy scene presented by the river which was covered
with craft of all descriptions. The big ferryboat edged its way across the
river without mishap and bumped into its slip. The traffic on the New
Jersey side was hardly less dense than that which they had encountered in
New York, but Dr. Dale skillfully threaded his way through it and after a
drive through narrow streets lined by foundries and factories, and across
the broad meadows, and past more places of business, they at last drew up
before the big broadcasting station.
"Well, here we are," said Dr. Dale, relaxing after the strain of traffic
driving. "How do you feel, Larry? Strong for anything?"
"I'm a little shaky, but I guess I'll get through with it all right,"
replied Larry. "Just lead me to it."
The boys assisted him into the radio station, where Mr. Brandon introduced
them all to the manager, Mr. Allard.
"You're just in time," said the latter. "We need somebody to substitute in
our program to-night, as one of the regular performers is ill. Come up to
the sending room and we'll give your young friend a trial."
"Go to it, old boy," encouraged Bob, in a whisper. "Show him what's what.
Remember that we're all rooting for you."
Larry pressed his hand, but had no time to answer before they were ushered
up to the sending room. One wall of this apartment was covered with
complicated-looking electrical apparatus, a good deal of which the boys
recognized but which appeared very mysterious to poor Larry.
"For testing purposes, our apparatus is so rigged up that we can hear, in
this room, exactly what goes out over the wires," the manager explained.
"If you gentlemen will sit at that table over there, and all put on
headphones, you can hear your friend's performance exactly as it will
sound to everybody else who is listening to this station."
"Did you get that?" whispered the irrepressible Herb. "He called us
gentlemen."
"Shut up," whispered Bob. "He didn't mean you, anyway."
Following the manager's instructions, Larry took up his position at a
short distance from an instrument called a microphone, and at a signal
from Mr. Allard commenced his bird imitations.
The manager had donned earphones like all the rest, and the little company
listened with varying emotions as Larry went through his repertoire. His
friends were praying fervently for his success and were delighted as they
realized that he was surpassing any of his previous efforts. The manager's
attitude was critical, but as Larry went from one imitation to another the
boys could see from the expression of his face that he was pleased. Larry
rose to his opportunity nobly, and as he realized that he was making a
good impression added trills and notes that he had never thought of
before. By the time he had finished, all doubt had vanished from Mr.
Allard's mind.
"I guess we can use you all right, young man," he said. "Do you think you
can fill in this evening? I need somebody to round out the bedtime
programme at seven o'clock, and I imagine your act ought to go well at
that time."
"Anything you say, sir," answered Larry, "will suit me."
"I can put you up here for to-night," volunteered Mr. Allard. "And if you
don't feel strong enough to work regularly for a week or so, you can go
back to-morrow and report for your regular performance a week from
to-day."
"I think that would be best," put in Frank Brandon. "I imagine Mr.
Bartlett will need at least another week before he'll be able to work
steadily."
Larry was but little older than the radio boys, and Herb was in an ecstasy
of delight over Brandon's "Mr. Bartlett."
"But if you stay here to-night you'll miss having dinner at Doctor Dale's
house!" cried Jimmy, impulsively.
"Guess it can't be helped," said Larry, with a laugh, in which the others
joined. "Business before pleasure, you know, Jimmy."
"That's what dad always tells me, too," grumbled Jimmy. "But personally,
I'd rather have the pleasure first, and let the business take its chance
afterward."
"Don't you believe it," said Mr. Allard. "There are too many people doing
that already. It's a system that will never help you to put money in the
bank, my boy."
"He'll probably find that out for himself sooner or later," said Mr.
Brandon. "I used to feel the same way, but I've got over it."
"We'll all be sorry that you can't be with us to-night, Larry," said Dr.
Dale, kindly. "But we'll be home in time to listen to your first radio
performance this evening, so you'll know that we're hearing you just the
same as though we were in this room with you."
"I'll be sure of that, Doctor Dale," said Larry. "But I know I'll be
missing a fine supper at your house, and you know how I'd like to be
there. I'll be back in Clintonia to-morrow, anyway."
"But how are you going to travel back alone?" asked Bob. "You're not
strong enough to go sailing around all by your lonesome yet."
"Don't let that worry you," replied Mr. Allard. "I'll see that somebody
goes to the train with him, and I guess one of you fellows won't mind
meeting him at the train at the other end."
"I rather guess not," said Bob, emphatically. "We'll be there with bells
on, Larry; you can bet on that."
"It seems as though I'm making you all a lot of trouble," said Larry. "I
guess I could get along all right."
"We'll be there, so there's no use of your saying any more about it,"
said Bob, in a voice of finality. "How about it, fellows?"
All the radio boys were of the same mind, so Larry was forced to give in.
"But if you're going to get back to Clintonia in time to hear my act at
seven o'clock, you'll have to leave pretty soon," he said. "I'm not going
to detain you here any longer."
"I'm afraid we will have to be going," said Dr. Dale, glancing at his
watch. "The ferries are apt to be crowded at this hour, too. But we'll
wish you all success at your new venture, Larry. If you always do as well
as you did this afternoon, you'll soon be acquiring a big reputation."
They all shook hands with Larry and Mr. Allard, and went out to where Dr.
Dale's automobile was waiting for them.
"I guess Larry was right when he said we'd have to make time going back,"
said Mr. Brandon. "It's three o'clock now, which doesn't leave us much of
a margin."
"That's very true," conceded Dr. Dale. "But if we can have any luck in
getting over the ferry and through New York traffic, we'll make it. Once
out of the city, and I'll show you what my car can do in the way of eating
up miles."