Summary

Jr. Horatio Alger Tony the Tramp; Or, Right is Might

Tony had always got along somehow. He had never—at least not for long at a time—known what it was to have a settled home or a permanent shelter. Whether the world owed him a living or not, he had always got one, such as it was, and though he had often been cold and hungry, here he was at fourteen, well and strong, and with plenty of pluck and courage to carry with him into the life struggle that was opening before him. Abner’s training had been different, and he wondered at the coolness with which Tony contemplated the future.
Source: Gutenberg

Jr. Horatio Alger Tony the Tramp; Or, Right is Might

His companion turned upon him roughly.
“What are you dawdling that way for, Tony?” he demanded. “You creep like a boy of three.”
“I can’t help it, Rudolph,” said the boy wearily; “I’m tired.”
“What business have you to be tired?”
“I’ve walked far to-day.”
“You’ve walked no further than I. I don’t dawdle like you.”
“You’re a man. You’re stronger than I am, Rudolph.”
“And you’re a milksop,” said the man contemptuously.
I’m nothing of the sort,” said the boy, with a flash of spirit. “I’m not made of cast iron, and that’s why I can’t stand walking all day long. Besides, I have had no dinner.”
Source: Gutenberg

Jr. Horatio Alger Tony the Tramp; Or, Right is Might

When I’m a man, I’m bound to see the world.”
“Ain’t you a man now?” inquired Tony, surveying his herculean proportions with astonishment.
No; I’m only eighteen.”
“You’re as big as a man.”
“Yes, I’m pooty big,” said Abner, with a complacent grin. “I can do a man’s work.”
“I should think you might. I thought you were more than four years older than me. I’m fourteen.”
“I guess I weigh twice as much as you.”
“I’m not small for my age,” said Tony jealously.
Maybe not. I’m a regular bouncer. That’s what dad says. Why, I’m half as big again as he is.”
“Does he ever lick you?” asked Tony, smiling.
Source: Gutenberg

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