I sought Big Kennedy. He was in his barroom, and the hour being mid-morning I was so far lucky as to find him quite alone. He was quick to see me, too, and seemed as full of a pleasant interest in me as though my simple looks were of themselves good news. He did most of the talking, for I sat backward and bashful, the more since I could feel his sharp eyes upon me, taking my measure. Never was I so looked over and so questioned, and not many minutes had come and gone before Big Kennedy knew as much of me and my belongings as did I myself. Mayhap more; for he weighed me in the scales of his experience with all the care of gold, considering meanwhile to what uses I should be put, and how far I might be expected to advance his ends. One of his words I recall, for it gave me a glow of relief at the time; at that it was no true word. It was when he heard how slightly I had been taught of books. “Never mind,” said he, “books as often as not get between a party's legs and trip him up. Better know men than books. There's my library.” Here he pointed to a group about a beer table. “I can learn more by studyin' them than was ever found between the covers of a book, and make more out of it.” Big Kennedy told me I must go to work. “You've got to work, d'ye see,” said he, “if it's only to have an excuse for livin'.” Then he asked me what I could do. On making nothing clear by my replies--for I knew of nothing--he descended to particulars. “What do you know of horses? Can you drive one?” My eye brightened; I might be trusted to handle a horse. “An' I'll gamble you know your way about the East Side,” said he confidently; “I'll answer for that.” Then getting up he started for the door, for no grass grew between decision and action with Big Kennedy. “Come with me,” he said. We had made no mighty journey when we stopped before a grocery. It was a two-store front, and of a prosperous look, with a wealth of vegetables and fruits in crates, and baskets, and barrels, covering half the sidewalk. The proprietor was a rubicund German, who bustled forth at sight of my companion. “How is Mr. Kennedy?” This with exuberance. “It makes me prout that you pay me a wisit.” “Yes?” said the other dryly. Then, going directly to the point: “Here's a boy I've brought you, Nick. Let him drive one of your wagons. Give him six dollars a week.” “But, Mr. Kennedy,” replied the grocer dubiously, looking me over with the tail of his eye, “I haf yet no wacancy. My wagons is all full.” “I'm goin' to get him new duds,” said Big Kennedy, “if that's what you're thinkin' about.” Still, the grocer, though not without some show of respectful alarm, insisted on a first position. “If he was so well dressed even as you, Mr. Kennedy, yet I haf no wacancy,” said he.