"Well, just drop him now; and don't bring him or anybody like him out to Kirkwood any more. When you have so many nice acquaintances, I can't imagine why you should be so intimate with those rivermen," said Mr. Richardson.
"They are the ones who have made your money for you," said Tony.
"I am aware of that; and they have been well paid for serving me. I find no fault with the men themselves—a braver and more skilful class cannot be found anywhere—but I do object to the morals of the most of them. Having passed some of the best years of my life on the river, I ought to know something about rivermen. This boy you speak of may be all right now, but he is under bad influences."
George never heard of this conversation between Tony and his father, and there was nothing in Tony's behavior toward him to indicate that such an interview had ever taken place. The latter kept track of the different boats on which Mr. Black was employed, and whenever one of them came into port, Tony made it a point to visit the cub pilot as soon as he could get out of school. He liked George, and he had but one fault to find with him; the latter had been a cattle raiser, and Tony wished he had been a sailor, so that he could have talked with him about the sea.
The Telegraph reached the coal-fleet in due time, and fortunately for Tony there was another boat there, the Ida Clifford, which, having filled her bunkers, was about to return to the city. Being acquainted with one of the pilots, Tony went aboard of her and steered her down, thus saving himself a long walk. On arriving at the landing he went ashore, and started for his father's office on Fourth street. When he reached it, he saw Mr. Richardson standing in the door drawing on his gloves.
"Ah!" said he, as Tony came up. "I began to think I should have to start for home without you. You have been kept after school as usual, I suppose?
"Yes, sir," replied Tony, "And when I got out, I went up to the coal-fleet on the Telegraph."
"Well, now that you have come, we will start for the depot. We have barely time to catch the train."
Mr. Richardson lived in Kirkwood, a beautiful little village located about thirteen miles from the river. Its society was made up principally of the families of wealthy men who did business in St. Louis. Living within easy reach of the city, they were still far enough away from it to escape all its heat, dust and noise. Tony and his father came in every morning on the seven o'clock train, and returned together in the evening after business hours were over.
"I should think you would get tired of being kept after school," said Mr. Richardson, as they walked toward the depot. "The report you bring home every week shows you to be anything but a faithful student. What do you expect to gain by so foolish a waste of time?"