I was one of 'em."
"Don't you earn more than that by your business?"
"Sometimes I do, but it ain't stiddy, and I'd rather have a place."
"Why do they advertise to give ten dollars, then?" asked our hero.
"They want to get hold of your fifty dollars," said the bootblack.
"Them fellers is beats, that's what they are."
"What had I better do?" asked Ben, in perplexity.
"Go and see 'em, and have a talk. If they're not after your fifty
dollars, you'll know what it means."
"It may be all right, after all," said Ben, who did not like to give
up hope.
"I may be General Grant," retorted the bootblack, "but if I know
myself I ain't."
"Well, I'll go round and talk with them. Where can I meet you
afterwards?"
"I'll be standin' here, if you ain't gone too long."
"What's your name?"
"Tom Cooper."
"I am Ben Stanton. Thank you for your advice."
"You're a good feller if you do come from the country. Just look out
for them fellers. Don't let 'em hook you in."
"All right, Tom."
Ben moved on, watching the numbers as he walked slowly along, till
he came to the one mentioned in the advertisement. There was a
hallway and a staircase, with a directory of persons occupying
offices on the floors above.
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