"I did all sorts of jobs.

The old gentleman wasn't cross; he gave me a dime, and I like him first-rate.
But I just hate 'Carrots;' he swears at a feller, and fired a stick of wood at me.

Guess I'll pay him off when I get a chance." Fumbling in his pocket to show the bright dime, he found the torn page, and remembered the thirst for information which had seized him in the morning.

"Look here, tell me about this, will you?
What are these chaps up to?
The ink has spoilt all but the picture and this bit of reading.

I want to know what it means.