"I'm much obliged to you for bein' so willin'; an' when I want another favor I'll call 'round an' see you," Carrots replied, as he turned on his heel, while Reddy walked rapidly away.
"It looks as if I'd got to put this thing through alone," Carrots said to himself; "an' if that's so, it'll be a good idea for me to keep away from where Skip is, 'cause if he should get a whack at me, I'm afraid I wouldn't be in a condition to do much of anything for a day or two."
Carrots visited all of his acquaintances in whom he felt he could confide, trying to enlist their sympathies in the work which he had undertaken.
Unfortunately for his purpose, however, he did not find any who were willing, simply because of the stranger, to brave the doughty Skip's wrath; and nearly every one advised Carrots to "give it up before he got into trouble."
Not until nearly nightfall was the well-disposed bootblack willing to cease his efforts in this particular direction.
Then he repaired to a certain restaurant on Baxter Street, where he appeared to be well acquainted with the waiters, and called for a hearty meal of corned beef and potatoes, at the expense of fifteen cents—an unusual amount for him, as could have been told by the remark which the waiter made.
"Ain't you spreadin' yourself some to-night, Carrots?"
"Well, it does look a little that way; but, you see, I've got a lot of business on hand, and I need to be braced up a bit."
"Bought out some other bootblack, or found a bigger line of customers?"
"Well, no; I'm buyin' stocks now. The Wall Street men are kind er 'fraid I'll down 'em, an' they're makin' me hustle."