Down on the ground went Tode's stock in trade, and he fell upon Carrots like a small cyclone fighting with teeth, nails, fists and heels, striking in recklessly with never a thought of fear.
Forgetful of possible customers, the boys quickly formed a ring, and yelled and hooted at the antagonists, cheering first one and then the other. But the contest was an unequal one. The red-headed boy was the bigger and stronger of the two and plucky as Tode was, he would have been severely treated had not the affair been ended by the appearance of a policeman who speedily separated the combatants.
"What's all this row about?" he demanded, sharply, as he looked from Tode's bleeding face to the big fellow's bruised eye.
"He took my beat. I've sold papers here for three years," cried Tode, angrily.
"What you got to say?" The policeman turned to the other.
"He give it up. He ain't sold a paper here for a week past," growled Carrots.
"Whose beat is it?" The man turned to the other boys as he asked the question.
"Reckon it's Tode's."
"He's o'ny been layin' off fer a spell."
"It's Tode's sure 'nough."