ia. It was a
wild business enterprise, and he sent his little boy, Antonio, with
friends--also named Blanco--to New York, expecting soon to follow them,
and desiring in the meantime to make sure of a good home for Antonio.
During his absence in Africa he wrote home, but his letters miscarried.
Nothing had been heard since the day he sailed from Italy, and his old
mother anxiously thought of him on stormy nights, fearing lest he had gone
down into the wide grave of the sea. The Blanco family that cared for Tony
in New York, obliged to leave the city by the failure of their work, came
to Seamont to find it there awhile. When they returned to New York, as
Tony was attached to Seamont, they left him with the Badger family for
awhile. They were waiting to hear from Tony's father about his plans for
the boy, when he appeared in an unexpected fashion to look directly after
Tony, and visit also his relatives; but they and the club were sorry to
know that, contrary to his wishes, he must go back to Italy, and take Tony
with him.

"Ah, now I understand about that boy," said Mr. Walton, to his mother;
"why he looked familiar, and if the people who brought him had had a
different name, I might have looked into it, but I thought they must be
relatives. Of course, not hearing from Fred, we had no thought that his
child was here."

And the mother said, "I hope my boy will now take his true name, and come
again soon, and bring Antonio Walton with him."

But would he and Tony ever come again? Tony came to bid good-bye to
Charlie, and said, very soberly and touchingly, "We'd better kiss each
other, for I feel that we shall never see each other again. Good-bye, for
we shall never see each other any more."

It was a very pathetic speech, and Charlie said, mournfully, as he kissed
him, "Well, good-bye, Tony."

Tony and his father went to Italy in a bark that left Seamont bound for
the Mediterranean. Charlie watched the vessel from the barn window.

Like a gull that flying afar sinks lower and then disappears behind some
rising billow, so the sails of the bark, receding farther and farther,
vanished behind that blue rim of the horizon that rises up to check our
sight and hide away the vessels that may hold our dearest hopes.

CHAPTER XX.

THE BOUND HIGHER UP.

Miss Barry was talking to her boys one Sunday; "Boys, you have had an
Up-the-Ladder Club this past year, and I hope it has not been simply a
play-ladder, but while p