Teddy and Carrots: Two Merchants of Newpaper Row Part 16

"No; I b'lieve that's all. Of course you'll keep the house? n.o.body knows of it but Teenie, an' p'rhaps he won't tell."

"I must take the chances of that; but I reckon Skip Jellison's goin' to make it mighty hot for me. I'll keep an eye out for him."

By this time the boys were sleepy; and until morning Carrots dreamed of the ideal life which he was to lead in the country.

At an early hour next day they betook themselves to the bas.e.m.e.nt restaurant on Baxter Street, where Carrots, who fancied he would always have plenty of money, now he had been engaged as a farmer, insisted on paying the entire cost of both breakfasts; and then the two separated with the promise of meeting at eleven o'clock at South Ferry.

During the forenoon Teddy was not interrupted in his labors, perhaps because he did not go near the City Hall, and business was so flouris.h.i.+ng that he felt sorry when Carrots came to say it was time they started for the market to meet the farmer.

The young gentleman who was about to take up his residence in the country unslung his blacking-box from his shoulder as he said:

"I told that lawyer you'd be there after this, an' he said, 'All right.'

I don't s'pose he cares, so long's he gets his boots blacked, who does it."

"I'll 'tend to him in great shape, so you needn't worry."

Then the two walked briskly along the water-front until they were at the market, when Carrots pointed toward an old wagon drawn by two mules, as he exclaimed: "That team b'longs out to the farm where I'm goin'. I tell you, I'll have them mules lookin' better'n they do now, before next week."

"Take care they don't kick you, Carrots; they're great on showin' their heels," Teddy replied, warningly.

"I'd like to see the mule that could get away with me," Master Carrots said contemptuously; and just then the farmer came out of a neighbouring shop, looking around as if in search of some one or something.

"He's after you," Teddy said. "I reckon I'd better say good-by now.

You'll find me in the packin'-case, if you come after dark."

"It'll be a good while before you see me," Carrots replied, confidently, as he shook his friend's hand warmly; and then the two parted.

During the three days following Carrots's departure, Teddy succeeded in the work beyond his most sanguine expectations.

He had been careful to remain away from the places most frequented by Skip Jellison, but was forced to change his business location several times, owing to the trouble which he had with boys who, as Carrots had predicted, were jealous because he both blacked boots and sold newspapers.

Still, he had succeeded in saving two dollars and twenty-five cents, in addition to which he had quite a store of provisions packed snugly away in a box, and, as he said in a tone of satisfaction on this third night after counting his funds and examining the contents of the larder, "had been playin' in mighty big luck."

During all this time he had seen nothing of Teenie Ma.s.sey, who, now that Carrots was away, was the only boy he knew well.

Neither had he met any of the party whom he saw on his introduction to the city, and it seemed as if they might not give him any further trouble.

"I reckon I can pick up what money I need to start the stand, by keepin'

on the same way I've begun," he said to himself. "It may be business is better 'round City Hall; but it doesn't stand to reason I could earn so very much more up there than I'm doin' now, an' s.h.i.+ftin' about so often I'll have a better chance for findin' out where a stand ought ter be put."

It can thus be seen that Master Thurston was on very good terms with himself, and feeling perfectly satisfied with his attempt to earn a livelihood in the metropolis. As Carrots had dreamed of the farm, so Teddy had often pictured to himself how he would live and conduct his business when once the stand was an a.s.sured fact; and while in the midst of these pleasing antic.i.p.ations he was startled, almost frightened, by a sound as of some person making his way across the litter with which the yard was strewn.

His first act was to extinguish the candle, lest the rays of light should betray his whereabouts, for he had no doubt that the intruder was Skip Jellison, with, probably, a number of followers.

With such thoughts in his mind it cannot be wondered at that he was startled beyond the power of speech when he heard the familiar voice of Carrots in a cautious tone:

"It's only me! Don't get fl.u.s.tered!" and an instant later the would-be farmer was once more inside the packing-case dwelling.

"Good gracious! Where'd you come from?" Teddy cried, after standing like a statue for several seconds.

"From the farm; that's where I come from!" Carrots replied, in an angry tone.

"Got through so soon as this, have you?"

"You can jest bet your sweet life I have! Why, I wouldn't stay out there a month if they'd give me the whole place, an' all the animals there was on it! That man was a reg'lar old--old--he's an old skee-sicks, that's what he is!"

"Sit down, so's to tell me all 'bout it;" and Teddy relighted the candle in order to have a good look at the amateur farmer.

Carrots was disconsolate and discouraged, and the dust on his boots told of a long walk over country roads.

"Got anything to eat?" he asked; and even his voice sounded hungry.

Teddy opened the cigar-box refrigerator, revealing to view a plentiful supply of provisions.

The newcomer did not need an invitation to begin the meal.

He attacked the food as if he had had nothing to eat since leaving the city, and Teddy refrained from asking any questions until his hunger should be appeased.

"Well," Carrots said, after an enormous meal, "what do you think of me now?"

"I'd say you was hungry, an' I guess that comes pretty nigh bein' the truth."

"That's a fact; an' I shouldn't be lyin' so very bad if I told you I hadn't had anything to eat since I left. Talk 'bout good livin' in the country! Why, a feller'd starve to death there in a week! I never saw sich a place! 'Bout the time you go to sleep they call you to get up; an' I do b'lieve yesterday it wasn't more'n late in the evenin' when that farmer yelled for me to turn out an' feed the stock. Feed the stock! Well, now, I'll tell you what--I wanted to feed myself, but didn't get the chance!"

"So you found out that livin' on a farm wasn't so pleasant as you thought?" Teddy said, laughingly; for he had a very good idea of what Carrots's experiences might have been.

"It's a reg'lar swindle an' humbug; that's what it is. An' if all farmers are like that old feller I went out with, I don't see how they keep anybody with 'em."

"S'posin' you begin at the start, an' tell me all 'bout it?"

"Well, I will." And, arming himself with a few slices of Bologna in case his appet.i.te should get the best of him, Carrots began the story. "That man was sweeter than pie all the time I was ridin' home with him, an'

you'd thought he loved me 'most to death till we got to the farm. Then I helped unharness them plaguy old mules, an' one of 'em fetched me a kick with his heels that left a black-an'-blue spot on my leg bigger'n the whole front of the City Hall. I up with a club, an' was goin' to knock the life out er him; but the farmer caught me by the collar, an'

shook me till I thought my head would fly off."

"He wanted to sort of introduce you to the place, I s'pose."

"Well, I reckon he did it pretty well. My heels knocked together like a pair of clappers, an' it seemed to me I could hear my head crack, the same way a whip does when you snap it. Well, after the old feller got through paralyzin' me, an' I was kind er steady on my feet once more, he told me to go to work an' clean out the stable. Why, Teddy, the job he set me at would have taken three men a month; an' he 'lowed I was to have it all done before night! You see, I didn't have any dinner, an'

had heard so much 'bout how they lived in the country that I thought I'd kind er like to sample the cookin'. So I asked him if he didn't think it would be best to have some grub before I tackled sich a job as that. I don't know what he thought 'bout it, cause he didn't say a word; jest walked right away an' left me. Jiminy crickets! How I did sweat! But I thought to myself, I'll do my level best so he'll know he's got a mighty good man. An' I'll be blamed if when that old duffer came out he didn't act as if he thought I must have been loafin'!"

"How long did he leave you workin?"

"From the time we got there till pretty nigh night. Then he said I was to go down to the pasture an' bring up the cows. Well, now, I'm a dandy to bring up cows! Never saw one before. I wasn't goin' to let on that I didn't know the whole thing, so I walked down big as life. He told me where the pasture was, an' I cleaned her right out. Took every blamed thing in there an' drove 'em up. Well, you jest bet he was mad! He wanted to know why I didn't leave the oxen behind, an' what I was doin'

with the sheep, an' how I ever expected to catch them two colts ag'in? I asked him to tell me how I was goin' to sort 'em out when they was runnin' all 'round. Said I was hungry, an' didn't have time for sich jobs. Why, Teddy, there was one of them sheep what had horns on; I couldn't have got rid of it if I'd stayed there a month. Knocked me down twice before I could even get the bars fixed. He acted like the goats you see up in Shantytown, an' looked a good deal like Skip Jellison in the face. I didn't figger on sheep bein' ugly. I wasn't so awful scared at first, for I 'lowed he was playin', an' got up soon's I could. The next thing I was down ag'in like one of them babies at a fair what you throw b.a.l.l.s at."

"It was an old ram, I s'pose. I should have thought you'd looked out for him."

"You jest bet I did after that; but I hadn't time then, you see. Why, he was all over that pasture quicker'n you could wink. After a while I got 'round by the other side of the fence, let down the bars, an' then sneaked up through the bushes till I got the whole lot of 'em inter line. Then I kept clubs flyin' so they jest had to scoot, an'

afterward--an' afterward, Teddy, what do you s'pose?"