As a matter of course, business was not to be thought of on this day, and for two very good reasons.

First, there was every cause to believe Skip Jellison and his followers would do all they could to prevent the boy from Saranac from engaging in any business; and secondly, because it seemed absolutely necessary Carrots and his friends should discuss the situation.

The boys were forced to earn such food as they might need, or go hungry, and yet Skip Jellison would try to prevent their doing business on the street.

Of course they could stand up and battle for their rights, probably receiving assistance from some of those boys whom Master Jellison had disciplined by the same methods pursued with Teddy; but such a struggle would hinder their business affairs.

If it became necessary to fight every time Teddy sold a paper, not only would the money-making be sadly curtailed, but danger of arrest would be very great.

"I reckon I wouldn't get off as easy if I was hauled up before that judge ag'in," Teddy said to his companion when the two had taken leave of Teenie Massey, and were walking in the direction of the water-front. "But I don't see how I'm goin' to get along without fightin', 'less I'm willin' to lie right down an' let Skip Jellison tread on me."

"See here!" Carrots said, suddenly, as if believing he had a thoroughly good plan in mind. "You've allers lived on a farm, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, now I have an idea it would be nice to stay in the country. S'posin' you an' me go right off an' get a job on some farm. That would settle Skip in great shape, an' we 'd have a mighty good time."

"It would settle Skip, there's no question 'bout that," Teddy replied." But when it comes to havin' a good time, you'd find you'd made a big mistake. I've had all the farmin' I want. A feller never'd get ahead in the world if he worked round for nothin' but his board an' clothes on a farm."

"You can't get even that much in the city, 'less you have money to start a reg'lar stand."

"That's jest it! That's jest what a feller wants to do! He ought ter make up his mind he's goin' to have a place, an' buy it. After that he can 'low to have a store, an' get one, too. All he has to do is to work hard, an' save his money for a while."

"I don't know 'bout that," Carrots replied, with a grave shake of his head. "I've tried as hard as any feller to get 'long, but don't own more'n ninety cents in the world to-day."

"Well, I'm going to try it in the city till I make up my mind it can't be done, an' p'rhaps then I'd be willin' to go out on a farm; but it'll be a good while before that time comes, Carrots. Where are you goin' now?"

"Down on one of these piers, where we can talk without Skip's crowd sneakin' up on us."

By this time they were near Fulton Ferry, and Carrots had but little difficulty, familiar as he was with the locality, in finding what he sought.

A pile of merchandise near the end of a pier afforded many convenient openings in which two boys could stow themselves snugly away without fear of being seen; and, entering one, Carrots proceeded to make himself comfortable by crawling to the very farthest corner, and there lighting a cigarette.

"Say, you're an awful good feller, Carrots," Teddy began, as if he had suddenly made a very important discovery. "You've taken right hold to help me, jest the same's if we'd allers knowed each other, an' done a good deal more'n any chum of mine I ever had. Now, I don't see any way to pay you back yet awhile."

"I don't want to be paid back," Carrots replied, decidedly. "I tried to help you through this thing, 'cause it was a shame to let Skip Jellison have his way, as he allers counts on; an' what I've done isn't much."

"Indeed it is. I'd been on my way to jail now, if you hadn't taken hold of this thing. We've got to straighten matters somehow. In the first place, I want to give back the money you handed me when I was 'rested."

"Better keep it. It may be two or three days before we can do any work."

"But I'd rather start square," Teddy replied, as he counted out the pennies which he had kept carefully apart from his own hoard, and literally forced them upon his companion.

"Well, if you're goin' to square up so straight, I've got a little settlement to make," and Carrots began a problem in arithmetic, using a bit of smooth board as paper, and making the figures thereon with a very short fragment of a lead-pencil. "Now, I sold them papers of yours, and here's the money," he added.

"But some of 'em was so muddy you could not have sold them," Teddy objected.

"Yes, I did; every one. You see, I wiped the mud off, an' then folded em' inside, so's it wouldn't show. It don't pay to let papers spoil jest 'cause there's a little dirt on 'em."

"But it isn't right I should take it," Teddy replied, gravely. "You stopped your work yesterday and to-day jest to help me along, an', of course, haven't earned a cent. Now, the best way will be to give me what I paid out for the papers, an' take the profit yourself, 'cause it really b'longs to you."

"I won't do anything of the kind," Carrots replied, in a tone of determination." It ain't certain as I should have worked yesterday."

"Course you would. You'd begun when I first saw you, an' had earned some money."

"Well, then, that's jest it! I got enough yesterday to keep me, an' by night we'll have some plan to get the best of Skip Jellison."

Teddy insisted that his companion should take the profits resulting from the sale of the newspapers, and Carrots quite as strongly refused to do anything of the kind; therefore the matter necessarily remained unsettled, the boy from Saranac holding the money in trust, as it were.

"Have a cigarette?" Carrots asked, with the air of a man of leisure, as he pulled several from his pocket.

"I don't want any, Carrots. I never smoke."

"What?"

"I don't smoke, and what's more, I ain't goin' to. After all you've done for me, it seems kind er tough that I should turn 'round an' talk to you 'bout spendin' money; but there's one of the very reasons why you ain't got a stand. Instead of hustlin' to make a nickel, you spend one buyin' cigarettes, or else waste a good deal of time standin' on the street smokin'. It would make a big difference if you didn't like sich things; an', besides, it hurts a boy to smoke 'em."

Carrots looked at Teddy in surprise.

He failed to understand why a fellow could not amuse himself smoking cigarettes, and was thoroughly bewildered to hear an argument made as to the expense.

"Well, I'll be jiggered! It looks to me like as if you'd come down here tryin' to be awful too good. I wish I had money enough to buy a glass case to put you in. I reckon I could sell the lot up to the museum."

"That's right; laugh jest as much as you've a mind to, Carrots. You can't make me mad after all you've done; but what I said is true, jest the same, an' don't you forget it."

"All right," Carrots replied, placidly. "I reckon it won't cost very much till these're gone; so s'posin' we talk 'bout how we're going inter business? Skip's got it in for me now, an' I'll have to shin 'round as lively as you do."

"There's only one thing 'bout it. We must 'tend to work the same's if he wasn't livin'."

"But he'll jump down on us, an' then we'll get into another fight."

"I s'pose that's so. Ain't there some place in the town jest as good for paper-sellin' as 'round the City Hall?"

"Well, I don't know. You see, I've allers worked there, an' am 'quainted with the fellers, so it seems to me it's 'bout the only spot. If you should try down by South Ferry, or 'round here anywhere, everybody'd do their best to drive you out, same's Skip did. I b'long up to City Hall, so they can't shove me away from there; an' the bootblacks in any place else would raise a row if I come takin' trade away."

"It don't seem as though they'd dare to do such things," said Teddy, thoughtfully. "You've as much right on one street as another."

"That's the way I s'pose it looks to a stranger; but it ain't so, jest the same. Now if a new feller come where I was workin' I'd turn in with the others to drive him off, of course."

"Then how does a new boy like me start?"

"He has ter hustle, an' take it rough, same's you're doin'. When the others find out you're bound to stick, they'll let you alone."

"Then, in that case, the sooner we 'tend to business the better. If we're goin' to have a row, let's get over with it as soon as we can."

"That's what I was countin' on; but I'll tell you we'd better not work to-day. It's no use to rush, an' by to-morrow Skip 'll be over his mad fit a little, most likely. He won't do anything but hunt for us till night, an' in the mornin' he'll need money so bad he'll have to go to work."

Teddy realized that Carrots's advice must be good, since he was thoroughly acquainted with the ways of the city; yet at the same time he was impatient because of the enforced idleness when it seemed necessary he should be at work.

Then Carrots proceeded to explain to his newly-made friend some of the peculiarities of his associates, and gave him an insight into their manner of living.

"Now I'm countin' on your takin' half of my house," Carrots said. "You see, you've got either to go to the Newsboys' Lodging House, or else hire a room somewhere, if you want ter swell, an' that's dreadful expensive. When the weather ain't too cold, boys can sleep 'round 'most anywhere."

"How does it happen that you have a house? Do you live with your folks?"

"I ain't got any, an' never had; but the place where I stop is mighty swell, I can tell you, though we can't go home till after dark, 'cause I don't want the folks what hire the property to think I came for the rent."

Teddy was mystified by this reply; but thought it advisable not to ask for particulars.

"I suppose you get your grub anywhere?" he said, interrogatively.

"Yes, when I've got the money. When I ain't, I go without. Seein' 's how neither of us has had any breakfast, what do you say to huntin' for a place where we can git five-cent soup?"

This seemed to Teddy like a necessity, inasmuch as he had had neither supper nor breakfast, and a few moments later the boys were busily employed over two plates of soup.

When the meal was ended the two, whose only business on this day was to keep beyond the reach of Skip Jellison, walked up-town that Teddy might see as much of the city as possible during his enforced idleness, and they did not return until a late hour.

After a great many precautions, and an unusual amount of scurrying to and fro, Carrots conducted his friend to the residence in the rear of the shop, and was delighted by hearing it praised in no stinted terms.

"It's great!" Teddy said, approvingly. "A feller that's got a place like this don't need to hire any rooms. I'd rather have it than a reg'lar house, any day."

"So had I," the proud proprietor replied; "but one thing is that you can't get here in the daytime. I reckon if they knew a feller was livin' in these boxes, they'd fire him out."

Then Carrots brought forth such of the provisions as had been left over from the previous evening's feast; and before he had finished this task a shrill whistle from the alleyway caused him to leap to his feet quickly, as he exclaimed:

"Now, there's Teenie Massey ag'in! I do wish he'd stay away once in a while. There won't be any room for three of us to sleep here, an' I'm goin' to tell him so."

As he ceased speaking Carrots gave vent to a prolonged whistle, and a few seconds later the sound as of some one climbing over the fence told that Master Massey was in what might be called the vestibule of Carrots's residence.

It was evident that Teenie was not wholly at ease when he made his appearance. Even one who had never seen him before would have understood there was something on his mind, and he greeted his friends in such a peculiar manner as to cause Carrots to ask:

"What's the matter with you? Ain't any of your folks dead, is there?"

"Oh, I'm all right," Teenie replied. "What made you think there was anything wrong?"

"Why, you look so—kind er queer."

Teenie was silent for a few moments, as if revolving some weighty question in his mind, and then, with the air of one who is determined to have the worst over, said:

"Look here, Carrots! I've allers been a friend of yours, ain't I, even if I have stood in with Skip Jellison once in a while?"

"Course you have, Teenie. What's troublin' you?"

"You might think I wasn't actin' jest square, so I wanted to have it straight."

"Have what straight?" Carrots asked impatiently.

"'Bout how you an' I stand. Now, you see, I met Skip this afternoon—"

"Didn't tell him where I lived, did you?" Carrots asked, sternly.

"Course not. What do you take me for? But he had a good deal to say 'bout you."

"If he don't ever hurt me any worse'n he can with his tongue, I reckon I'll get along all right."

"He says he's goin' to drive both of you fellers out er the city, if he don't do anything else the rest of the year."

"Then he'll have a chance to get through with a good bit of loafin', for we're not goin' to get up an' dust jest to please him."

"But he's awful mad."

"That don't hurt me any. He can boil over if he wants to, for all I care."

"Well, now, Carrots, he wanted me to do somethin', an' I couldn't get out er promisin'."

"What was it?" the host asked, impatiently.

"You won't get mad?"

"Course not, 'less you're givin' somethin' away ag'in me."

"He wanted me to bring a letter down here. You see, he kind er thinks I know where you live, an' so he told me I'd got to take it. I couldn't help myself, Carrots, 'cause he hung right on, an' jest as likely's not he'd have given me a thumpin' if I hadn't done it."

"Oh, that's all right. Fish up your letter."

Teenie drew from his pocket a piece of soiled paper and gave it to Carrots, who, with the candle in his hand, opened it carefully and with an air of the utmost gravity.

Fortunately, so far as the better understanding of this story is concerned, the important document was preserved by Teddy; therefore we are enabled to give an exact copy of it: