hower of missiles and
uproarious shouts, each fellow claiming that it must have been his shot
that had struck the limb just where the cawing bird had been sitting.

They were possibly two miles from town, and in the midst of the Budge
woods, a section that always had a certain charm for the boys of both
Riverport and Mechanicsburg, as it lay half-way between the two towns,
and not far from the river.

Which brief but necessary digression again brings us to the occasion when
Fred's chums were applauding his double hit, after he had sent two
successive snowballs so cleverly into the hole Bristles had selected as a
mark.

"Same old accuracy," chanted Colon.

"I'm sorry for poor Paulding, and the other town above us, when Fred
steps into the box again this year. He's got 'em as straight as a rifle
ball. No trouble for him to put three over when he's in a hole."

Sid Wells had hardly said this when something came to pass that was
entirely unexpected by the six Riverport boys. Through the air a cloud
of solid icy balls came hurtling with what seemed like an angry hiss.
Some struck around them, spattering against the tree-trunks with loud
thuds; but several, being better aimed, came in contact with the persons
of the astonished boys, producing more or less of a stinging sensation,
as icy balls are apt to do.

CHAPTER II

THE BATTLE BETWEEN OLD RIVALS

"Hey! What's all this mean?" shouted Bristles, as he dodged another
shower of smartly-thrown missiles that came from a point close at hand.

There was hardly any use asking, because all of the lads had by then
discovered the flitting forms of half a dozen boys about their own age,
who must have piled up plenty of ammunition, to judge from the reckless
way in which they were hurling snowballs in the direction of Fred and his
chums.

"The Mechanicsburg crowd, that's who it is!" snapped Colon, who, being so
much taller than the others, had a better chance to see over the tops of
the bushes.

"They're in for a snowball fight, fellows!" exclaimed Brad Morton, who
was the captain of the football team, as well as track manager in all
athletic meets.

"Give 'em Hail Columbia, fellows! Riverport High to the fore! Now,
altogether, and send 'em in as hot as you can make 'em!"

That was Dave Hanshaw whooping it up. Dave had always been known as the
heavy batter when he was feeling right, and many a time had he knocked
out a home run, to the wild delight of the