ve thought of such a thing," she replied. "He
alighted at a cottage to visit one of his old friends, and while he was
inside the ponies bolted. But here he comes, and I know he will be
better able to thank you than I am."

She pointed to the figure of a tall, elderly gentleman, of upright
carriage and aristocratic bearing, who was coming up the road at a rapid
pace.

"It's Judge Moore," whispered Link; "he owns a fine place a couple of
miles from here."

In another moment our hero found himself being presented to the judge,
who overwhelmed him with praise.

"You must come and dine with us, you and your friends," said the judge;
"there will only be myself and my daughter Alice. Nay, you must make no
excuses. I shall call upon Captain Hooper and tell him all about it, and
if ever you require a friend do not forget to come to me."

Mont would have respectfully declined the invitation, but a glance from
Alice Moore prevented him from doing so.

He therefore thanked the judge for his kindness, and then the boys took
their leave.

Our hero simply raised his cap, but Alice put out her hand.

"You will be certain to come?" she asked in a low tone.

"Certain," he replied.

The news of Mont's heroism spread through Nautical Hall, and he speedily
found himself a decided hero.

CHAPTER V.

HOKE UMMER'S TREACHERY.

Our hero succeeded on the following Monday in getting a quantity of
cake, pie, and other stuff from town and hiding them in an unoccupied
bedroom.

He was also promised a dozen bottles of root beer and soda water, but
these he was unable to smuggle into the school, owing to the
watchfulness of Captain Hooper and his assistants.

Accordingly, he hid the stuff in the bushes near the lake, and decided
to go after it late at night.

He unfolded his plan to Link, Barry, and Carl Barnaby, and this plan was
overheard by Hoke Ummer.

Next to the empty bedroom was a window overlooking the side playground.
From this window Mont decided to reach the ground by aid of a long rope.

This was the only way to get out, as after nine o'clock all the doors
and windows below were locked in such a fashion they could not be
opened.

That evening our hero, with a light heart, repaired to the empty
bedroom.

Opening the boxful of stuff, he spread out upon a tablecloth of
newspapers a prettily decorated ham, a couple of cold roast chickens, a
fine apple pie, a quantity of mince pies, and a varied assortment of