The George Barr McCutcheon MEGAPACK ®. George Barr McCutcheon

ought to know of this,” cried Mr. Valentine.

      “There! By the eternal, they are picking somebody up over yonder,” exclaimed the mate. “See! that first boat has laid to and they are dragging—yes, sir, he’s saved!”

      A cheer went up on board and the men in the small boats waved their caps in response. Everybody rushed to the rail as the “Flitter” drew up to the boats, and there was intense excitement on board. A gasp of amazement went up from every one.

      Monty Brewster, drenched but smiling, sat in one of the boats, and leaning limply against him, his head on his chest, was the sailor who had fallen overboard. Brewster had seen the man in the water and, instead of wondering what his antecedents were, leaped to his assistance. When the boat reached him his unconscious burden was a dead weight and his own strength was almost gone. Another minute or two and both would have gone to the bottom.

      As they hauled Monty over the side he shivered for an instant, grasped the first little hand that sought his so frantically, and then turned to look upon the half-dead sailor.

      “Find out the boy’s name, Mr. Abertz, and see that he has the best of care. Just before he fainted out there he murmured something about his mother. He wasn’t thinking of himself even then, you see. And Bragdon”—this in a lower voice—”will you see that his wages are properly increased? Hello, Peggy! Look out, you’ll get wet to the skin if you do that.”

      CHAPTER XX

      LE ROI S’AMUSE

      If Montgomery Brewster had had any misgivings about his ability to dispose of the balance of his fortune they were dispelled very soon after his party landed in the Riviera. On the pretext that the yacht required a thorough “house cleaning” Brewster transferred his guests to the hotel of a fascinating village which was near the sea and yet quite out of the world. The place was nearly empty at the time, and the proprietor wept tears of joy when Monty engaged for his party the entire first floor of the house with balconies overlooking the blue Mediterranean and a separate dining-room and salon. Extra servants were summoned, and the Brewster livery was soon a familiar sight about the village. The protests of Peggy and the others were only silenced when Monty threatened to rent a villa and go to housekeeping.

      The town quickly took on the appearance of entertaining a royal visitor, and a number of shops were kept open longer than usual in the hope that their owners might catch some of the American’s money. One morning Philippe, the hotel proprietor, was trying to impress Brewster with a gesticulatory description of the glories of the Bataille de Fleurs. It seemed quite impossible to express the extent of his regret that the party had not arrived in time to see it.

      “This is quite another place at that time,” he said ecstatically. “C’est magnifique! c’est superbe! If monsieur had only seen it!”

      “Why not have another all to ourselves?” asked Monty. But the suggestion was not taken seriously.

      Nevertheless the young American and his host were in secret session for the rest of the morning, and when the result was announced at luncheon there was general consternation. It appeared that ten days later occurred the fete day of some minor saint who had not for years been accorded the honor of a celebration. Monty proposed to revive the custom by arranging a second carnival.

      “You might just as well not come to the Riviera at all,” he explained, “if you can’t see a carnival. It’s a simple matter, really. I offer one price for the best decorated carriage and another to the handsomest lady. Then every one puts on a domino and a mask, throws confetti at every one else, and there you are.”

      “I suppose you will have the confetti made of thousand franc notes, and offer a house and lot as a prize.” And Bragdon feared that his sarcasm was almost insulting.

      “Really, Monty, the scheme is ridiculous,” said DeMille, “the police won’t allow it.”

      “Won’t they though!” said Monty, exultantly. “The chief happens to be Philippe’s brother-in-law, and we had him on the telephone. He wouldn’t listen to the scheme until we agreed to make him grand marshal of the parade. Then he promised the cooperation of the entire force and hoped to interest his colleague, the chief of the fire department.”

      “The parade will consist of two gendarmes and the Brewster party in carriages,” laughed Mrs. Dan. “Do you expect us to go before or after the bakery carts?”

      “We review the procession from the hotel,” said Monty. “You needn’t worry about the fete. It’s going to be great. Why, an Irishman isn’t fonder of marching than these people are of having a carnival.”

      The men in the party went into executive session as soon as Monty had gone to interview the local authorities, and seriously considered taking measures to subdue their host’s eccentricities. But the humor of the scheme appealed to them too forcibly, and almost before they knew it they were making plans for the carnival.

      “Of course we can’t let him do it, but it would be sport,” said “Subway” Smith. “Think of a cake-walk between gendarmes and blanchiseuses.”

      “I always feel devilish the moment I get a mask on,” said Vanderpool, “and you know, by Jove, I haven’t felt that way for years.”

      “That settles it, then,” said DeMille. “Monty would call it off himself if he knew how it would affect Reggie.”

      Monty returned with the announcement that the mayor of the town would declare a holiday if the American could see his way to pay for the repairs on the mairie roof. A circus, which was traveling in the neighborhood, was guaranteed expenses if it would stop over and occupy the square in front of the Hotel de Ville. Brewster’s enthusiasm was such that no one could resist helping him, and for nearly a week his friends were occupied in superintending the erection of triumphal arches and encouraging the shopkeepers to do their best. Although the scheme had been conceived in the spirit of a lark it was not so received by the townspeople. They were quite serious in the matter. The railroad officials sent advertisements broadcast, and the local cure called to thank Brewster for resurrecting, as it were, the obscure saint. The expression of his gratitude was so mingled with flattery and appeal that Monty could not overlook the hint that a new altar piece had long been needed.

      The great day finally arrived, and no carnival could have been more bizarre or more successful. The morning was devoted to athletics and the side shows. The pompiers won the tug of war, and the people marveled when Monty duplicated the feats of the strong man in the circus. DeMille was called upon for a speech, but knowing only ten words of French, he graciously retired in favor of the mayor, and that pompous little man made the most of a rare opportunity. References to Franklin and Lafayette were so frequent that “Subway” Smith intimated that a rubber stamp must have been used in writing the address.

      The parade took place in the afternoon, and proved quite the feature of the day. The question of precedence nearly overturned Monty’s plans, but the chief of police was finally made to see that if he were to be chief marshal it was only fair that the pompiers should march ahead of the gendarmes. The crew of the “Flitter” made a wonderful showing. It was led by the yacht’s band, which fairly outdid Sousa in noise, though it was less unanimous in the matter of time. All the fiacres came at the end, but there were so many of them and the line of march was so short that at times they were really leading the processional despite the gallant efforts of the grand marshal.

      From the balcony of the hotel Monty and his party pelted those below with flowers and confetti. More allusions to Franklin and Lafayette were made when the cure and the mayor halted the procession and presented Monty with an address richly engrossed on imitation parchment. Then the school children sang and the crowd dispersed to meet again in the evening.

      At eight o’clock Brewster presided over a large banquet, and numbered among his guests every one of distinction in the town. The wives were also invited and Franklin and Lafayette were again alluded to. Each of the men made at least one speech, but “Subway” Smith’s third address was the hit of the evening. Knowing nothing but English, he had previously clung consistently to that language, but the third and final address