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, 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 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.
"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."
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 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 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 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 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 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.
"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.