Transcriber’s Notes: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_), and text enclosed by equal signs is in bold (=bold=). Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end. * * * * * No. 4 BOUND TO WIN LIBRARY LITTLE HICKORY or Ragged Rob’s Young Republic BY VICTOR ST. CLAIR [Illustration] STREET & SMITH · PUBLISHERS · NEW YORK * * * * * LITTLE HICKORY; OR, Ragged Rob’s Young Republic BY VICTOR ST. CLAIR [Illustration] NEW YORK STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS 238 WILLIAM STREET * * * * * Copyright, 1901 By Norman L. Munro Little Hickory * * * * * LITTLE HICKORY. CHAPTER I. THE BOOTBLACK AND THE DEACON. “I vum! I eenamost feel as if I was lost, though there do seem to be plenty o’ folks round.” “Black yer boots and make ’em shine; only cost ye half a dime!” cried a cheery voice at the speaker’s elbow, and, looking down, the tall man was surprised to see a specimen of boyhood quite unknown to him. The features were regular enough, and would have been quite handsome had it not been for big patches of shoe blacking smeared over cheek and brow. Blue eyes peered out from the dark stains around them with a roguish twinkle, and there was a certain fearless independence in his looks and attitude which could not fail to show the most casual observer the fearlessness and self-reliance of his nature. It was his clothes, his general deportment, the air of cool contempt for everything and everybody around him which caused the stranger fresh from the country to stare upon the bootblack of the great city with speechless wonder. “When yer eyes git done working and blinking, mister, p’raps ye will give yer tongue a chance,” said the young knight of the blacking brush, beginning to remove from his shoulder the ever-handy kit of his trade. “Better hev yer brogans shined up, mister; they need it bad.” The reply of the man showed that something of greater moment to him at that time than his personal appearance was uppermost in his mind. “Say, bub, can you tell me where there is a good tavern that a chap could stop at till to-morrer?” “Sold ag’in, Ragged Rob!” cried one of half a dozen companions of his ilk, who had appeared upon the scene from all quarters. “When ye git through wi’ th’ ol’ hayseed, ye mought as well git out o’ bizness, for ye won’t hev blackin’ ’nough ter tip a gent’s boot. So long!” and the crowd beat a hasty retreat, to look for work in a more favorable direction. “Get a move on you, old mossback, or the cops will haul you in for obstructing the sidewalks!” muttered a beetle-browed passer-by, who followed his words with a push which nearly threw the countryman off his feet. “Geewhillikins, how the folks do crowd! Beats all natur’. What’s that you say, bub?”