rushed at him, and aimed a blow at Mont's nose.
Our hero ducked, and Hoke's fist only sawed the air.
"That was a clean duck."
"Land him one, Hoke!"
"Go for him, Folsom!"
Around and around the ring went the two boys.
Then the bully aimed another blow at our hero.
As quick as a flash our hero warded it off.
Then out shot his fist, and the bully of Nautical Hall got a crashing blow in the chin that knocked him clean off his feet.
What a yell went up!
"Hoke is knocked out!"
"Did you ever see such a blow?"
Wild with rage, the bully was assisted to his feet by several friends.
The blood flowed from his chin and from a cut lip.
"I'll show you yet!" he hissed, and again went at Mont.
But our hero was cool and collected, while the bully was excited.
The bully got in one little body blow, but that was all, while our hero fairly played all over his face.
"Better give it up, Hoke!"
"You are outclassed against Mont Folsom!"
"Let me be!" howled the bully.
With every blow that our hero delivered Ummer's anger increased.
His reputation, he felt, was at stake.
If he was beaten that would be the end of him, so far as bossing the boys was concerned.
At last Mont hit him a stinging blow on the ear that caused him to roll over and over.
CHAPTER IV. ON THE ROAD.
The bully was knocked out completely, and had to acknowledge Mont the victor of the encounter.
This he did with very bad grace, and a minute later sneaked off with his toady.
"I'll get even for that," he growled. "He'll be sorry he ever tackled me."
"You'll have to watch Hoke Ummer," said Link, some time later, when the crowd had dispersed. "He is a treacherous fellow."
"I'll have my eyes open," returned our hero.
Yet little did he dream of the dastardly way in which the bully would try to get even.
It did not take Mont long to settle down at Nautical Hall. The fight had made him many friends, and established him as a sort of leader among a certain set.
On the following Saturday Link proposed that he, Barry Powell, and Mont take a stroll down to the village.
The others were willing, and soon the party was on the way.
"I'll get some stuff for a midnight feast while I am at it," said Mont.
Soon the school was left behind, and they came out on the village highway.
"Hark!" cried Barry suddenly.
"What is it?" demanded Mont.
Barry was listening intently to a dull, heavy tramping sound, which was wafted faintly toward them on the breeze.
"Do you hear that?" he asked excitedly.
Link and Mont listened, and could distinctly hear a low thud, thud, thud in the distance.
"What does it mean?" Link asked.
"It means that a pair of ponies, or horses, have run away, and are coming along at a tearing gallop."
As if in corroboration of Barry's words, at that moment a light phaeton, drawn by two high-spirited ponies, which were pounding along at the top of their speed, burst round the bend of the road.
The vehicle was rocking from side to side, and every moment threatened to hurl it into one of the deep ditches which lined the road.
As the boys gazed at the approaching carriage Mont's heart seemed to stand still.
"Fellows!" he cried, "there is someone in the phaeton—a lady, I believe."
"So there is!" gasped Link, in tones of horror. "What shall we do?"
"We must stop them."
With his face whiter than usual, and his lips tightly compressed, our hero ran down the road.
"He is courting death," said his chum, beneath his breath, "but we may be of some use."
And both started after their companion.
Mont was running at the top of his speed, for he saw that the occupant of the carriage was only a young girl, and utterly helpless, and that every second's delay endangered her life.
On and on he went, until he was within a score of yards of the maddened steeds.
Then he planted himself firmly in the middle of the road and prepared for a spring.
Fiercely the ponies dashed onward.
Nearer and nearer they came, until it seemed they must inevitably trample him beneath their iron-shod hoofs.
But our hero never wavered.
Motionless he crouched there until the end of the pole almost touched his cheek.
Then he leaped up and caught both the bridles in his strong, nervous grip.
The ponies, with loud whinnies of rage, tossed up their heads and lifted him from his feet, but he clung tenaciously to them.
They dragged him along the ground for a few yards, and then their speed began to slacken.
Link now came up, and the vicious little brutes were brought to a standstill.
Then Mont, thoroughly exhausted, sank in a heap upon the ground.
As soon as the carriage was stopped in its wild career, a fair and beautiful girl sprang out.
"Oh, is he very much hurt?" she cried, as she raised her clasped hands in despair.
Our hero staggered to his feet, and as he gazed on the fairy-like form and sweet, delicate face his cheeks flushed and his heart beat quickly.
"I
