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The mill was a relic of the old industries of the place and represented a vain effort to make Seamont a "manufacturing center." "Then the fire is down in the hollow," thought Will. He saw somebody approaching who he thought might be a customer, but he quickly decided the question whether he owed a greater duty to one person or to many the public by turning the key in the lock of the door.
Fearful dry, it is getting to be." The doctor was a true prophet. The next alarm did amount to something. One morning about half past seven, there echoed in the narrow streets of Seamont a cry that plain meant bad news. Will Somers heard, and might be said to have seen, that cry.
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.
Did the dock, the tall chimneys, the mist, notice that curious eye up in the "cupelo" looking through the slats and watching them? "Guess I'll go down," said their owner. The mist continued to wrap Seamont all that day and far into the night. Will Somers was preparing to leave Dr. Tilton's store that evening. He had sent off medicine to quiet the last earache in town that had been heard from.
He was rarely heard from. An air of mystery encircled him. Whether his father was a count in Italy or a seller of pea-nuts in New York, no one at Seamont had been able to say for a month, and that was a long time in circles of gossip. It was finally asserted that his father lived in Italy. Tony was of the same age as Pip. Concerning Charlie we shall find out farther along.
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.
There stood a stout boy whom Charlie recognized immediately as one of the evil force that raided on the club the day of the grand march! It was Tim Tyler, one of the hardest boys in Seamont, aged fifteen. Back of him was a smaller boy, but a competitor in vice, Bobby Landers.
"We might adjourn and meet in an hour," suggested Sid. "That would give us more opportunity to invite other fellers in." How Charlie did admire Sid for his easy flow of language! The "lane," as Seamont called the narrow street before the barn, was now searched for recruits, and the barn-chamber was deserted a whole hour. The big horse-flies sawed on their bass-viols at their leisure.
Pip or Piper Peckham, aged eight, was a big-eyed, black-haired, little fellow with a peaked face. Timid, sensitive to neglect, very fond of notice, he was sometimes a subject for the tricks of his playmates. Then there was Tony or Antonio Blanco, a late arrival at Seamont. He was an olive-faced, black-haired, shy little fellow. When he spoke, he used English, but his accent was Italian.
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