BEN COMMENCES HIS BUSINESS CAREER.
Ben soon took his stand in the street, with a roll of papers under his
arm, supplied by the generosity of his new acquaintance. It was rather a
trying ordeal for a country boy, new to the city and its ways. But Ben
was not bashful. He was not a timid boy, but was fully able to push his
way. So, glancing at the telegraphic headings, he began to call out the
news in a business-like way. He had already taken notice of how the
other newsboys acted, and therefore was at no loss how to proceed.
He met with very fair success, selling out the twelve papers which had
been bought for him, in a comparatively short time. It might have been
that the fact that he was neater and better dressed operated in his
favor. At any rate, though a new hand, he succeeded better than those
who were older in the business.
But his neat dress operated to his disadvantage in another quarter. His
business rivals, who were, with scarcely an exception, dressed with no
great pretensions to style or neatness, looked upon the interloper with
a jealous eye. They regarded him as "stuck up," in virtue of his
superior dress, and were indignant to find their sales affected by his
competition.
"Who's he? Ever seen him afore?" asked Tim Banks of a newsboy at his
side.
"No; he's a new chap."
"What business has he got to come here and steal away our trade, I'd
like to know?" continued Tim, eying Ben with no friendly glance.
At that moment a gentleman, passing Tim, bought an "Evening Post" of
Ben. It was the third paper that Ben had sold since Tim had effected a
sale. This naturally increased his indignation.
"He's puttin' on airs just because he's got good clo'es," said the other
newsboy, who shared Tim's feelings on the subject.
"Let's shove him out," suggested Tim.
"All right."
Tim, who was a boy of twelve, with a shock head, which looked as if it
had never been combed, and a suit of clothes which bore the marks of
severe usage, advanced to Ben, closely followed by his confederate, who
had agreed to back him.
Ben had just sold his last paper when the two approached him. He did not
understand their object until Tim, swaggering up to him, said
offensively, "You'd better clear out; you aint wanted here."
Ben turned and faced his ragged opponent with intrepidity.
"Why aint I wanted here?" he inquired, without manifesting the least
symptom of alarm.
Tim rather anticipated that Ben would show the white feather, and was a
little surprised at his calmness.
"Cause yer aint, that's why," he answered.
"If you don't like my company, you can go somewhere else," said Ben.
"This is _my_ place," said Tim. "You aint got no right to push in."
"If it's your place, how much did you pay for it?" asked Ben. "I thought
that the sidewalk was free to all."
"You aint got no right to interfere with my business."
"I didn't know that I had interfered with it."
"Well, you have. I aint sold more'n half as many papers since you've
been here."
"You've got the same chance as I have," said Ben. "I didn't tell them
not to buy of you."
"Well, you aint wanted here, and you'd better make tracks," said Tim,
who considered this the best argument of all.
"Suppose I don't," said Ben.
"Then I'll give you a lickin'."
Ben surveyed the boy who uttered this threat, in the same manner that a
general would examine an opposing force, with a view to ascertain his
strength and ability to cope with him. It was clear that Tim was taller
than himself, and doubtless older. As to being stronger, Ben did not
feel so positive. He was himself well and compactly made, and strong of
his age. He did not relish the idea of being imposed upon, and prepared
to resist any encroachment upon his rights. He did not believe that Tim
had any right to order him off. He felt that the sidewalk was just as
free to him as to any other boy, and he made up his mind to assert and
maintain his right.
"If you want to give me a licking, just try it," he said. "I've got just
as much right to stand here and sell papers as you have, and I'm going
to do it."
"You needn't be so stuck up jest because you've got good clo'es on."
"If they are good, I can't help it," said Ben. "They're all I have, and
they won't be good long."
"Maybe I could get good clo'es if I'd steal em," said Tim.
"Do you mean to say I stole these?" retorted Ben, angrily. He had no
sooner said it, however, than he thought of the pies which he should
have stolen if he had not been detected, and his face flushed. Luckily
Tim did not know why his words produced an effect upon Ben, or he would
have followed up his attack.
"Yes, I do," said Tim.
"Then you judge me by yourself," said Ben, "that's all I've got to say."
"Say that ag'in," said Tim, menacingly.
"So I will, if you want to hear it. You judge me by yourself."
"I'll give you a lickin'."
"You've said that before."
Tim was not particularly brave. Still Ben was a smaller boy, and besides
he had a friend at hand to back him, so he concluded that it would be
safe to venture. Doubling up a dirty fist, he struck out, intending to
hit Ben in the face; but our young adventurer was on his guard, and
fended off the blow with his arms.
"Will yer go now?" demanded Tim, pausing after his attack.
"Why should I?"
"If you don't I'll give you another lick."
"I can stand it, if it isn't any worse than that."
Tim was spurred by this to renew the assault. He tried to throw his arms
around Ben, and lift him from the ground, which would enable him to
throw him with greater ease. But Ben was wary, and experienced in this
mode of warfare, having often had scuffles in fun with his
school-fellows. He evaded Tim's grasp, therefore, and dealt him a blow
in the breast, which made Tim stagger back. He began to realize that
Ben, though a smaller boy, was a formidable opponent, and regretted that
he had undertaken a contest with him. He was constrained to appeal to
his companion for assistance.
"Just lend a hand, Jack, and we'll give it to him."
"So you have to ask help," said Ben, scornfully, "though you're bigger
than I am."
"I could lick yer well enough alone," said Tim, "but you've been
interferin' with Jack's business, as well as mine."
Jack responded to his friend's appeal, and the two advanced to the
assault of Ben. Of course all this took place much more quickly than it
has taken to describe it. The contest commenced, and our young
adventurer would have got the worst of it, if help had not arrived.
Though a match for either of the boys singly, he could not be expected
to cope with both at a time, especially as he was smaller than either.
Tim found himself seized forcibly by the arm, just as he was about to
level a blow at Ben. Looking up, he met the glance of another newsboy, a
boy of fourteen, who was known among his comrades as "Rough and Ready."
This boy was stout and strong, and was generally liked by those of his
class for his generous qualities, as well as respected for his physical
strength, which he was always ready to exert in defence of a weaker boy.
"What's all this, Tim?" he demanded. "Aint you ashamed, the two of you,
to pitch into a smaller boy?"
"He aint got no business here," said Tim, doggedly.
"Why not?"
"He's takin' away all our trade."
"Hasn't he just as much right to sell papers as you?"
"He can go somewhere else."
"So can you."
"He's a new boy. This is the first day he's sold papers."
"Then you ought to be able to keep up with him. What's your name, young
un?"
This question was, of course, addressed to Ben.
"Ben," answered our young hero. He did not think it necessary to mention
his other name, especially as, having run away from home, he had a
vague idea that it might lead to his discovery.
"Well, Ben, go ahead and sell your papers. I'll see that you have fair
play."
"Thank you," said Ben. "I'm not afraid of either of them."
"Both of them might be too much for you."
"I don't want to interfere with their business. They've got just as good
a chance to sell as I have."
"Of course they have. Is this your first day?"
"Yes."
"How many papers have you sold?"
"Six 'Posts' and six 'Expresses.'"
"That's pretty good for a beginning. Are you going to get some more?"
"Yes, I was just going into the office when that boy," pointing to Tim,
"tried to drive me off."
"He won't do it again. Come in with me. I'm going to buy some papers
too."
"What's your name?" asked Ben. "I like you; you're not mean, like those
fellows."
"My name is Rufus, but the boys call me Rough and Ready."
"Where do you live,--at the Newsboys' Lodging House?"
"No, I live in Leonard Street. I've got a mother and a little sister. I
live with them."
"Have you got a father?"
"No, that is, not a real father. I've got a step-father; but he's worse
than none, for he is loafing round most of the time, and spends all the
money he can get on drink. If it wasn't for me, he'd treat mother worse
than he does. How long have you been in New York?"
"Only a day or two," said Ben.
"Where are you living?"
"Anywhere I can. I haven't got any place."
"Where did you sleep last night?"
"In a hay-barge, at one of the piers, along with a boot-black named
Jerry. That was the first night I ever slept out."
"How did you like it?"
"I think I'd prefer a bed," said Ben.
"You can get one at the Lodge for six cents."
"I didn't have six cents last night."
"They'll trust you there, and you can pay next time."
"Where is the Lodging House?"
"It's on the corner of this street and Fulton," said Rough and Ready.
"I'll show it to you, if you want me to."
"I'd like to have you. I'd rather pay six cents than sleep out again."
By this time they reached the office of the "Express," and, entering,
purchased a supply of papers. He was about to invest his whole capital,
but, by the advice of his companion, bought only eight copies, as by the
time these were disposed of a later edition would be out, which of
course would be more salable.