towns,
Mechanicsburg, three miles up, and Paulding, seven miles down the river,
were rivals of Riverport.

Turning from baseball, as the Summer waned, the boys of Riverport
naturally took to the gridiron, and their struggles for supremacy with
rival teams are to be found in the second story, called: "_Fred Fenton in
the Line_."

When Summer came again, other sports took the energetic lads of the river
town by storm. With such splendid opportunities for boating, as were
presented by the Mohunk River, of course they availed themselves of the
chance to again enter into competition with those whose one ambition
seemed to be to defeat Riverport. These lively encounters are set forth
in the pages of the third volume, entitled "_Fred Fenton on the Crew_."

The next Winter the three towns became so filled with enthusiasm over the
great advantages of athletic training, that fine gymnasiums were
organized through public subscription. In time a meet had been
organized, and there were some fierce struggles for supremacy between the
rival towns. Just how the boys of Riverport carried themselves in these
exciting happenings, and what measure of success perched on their banner,
you will find narrated in the pages of the fourth volume, just preceding
this book, under the title of "_Fred Fenton on the Track_."

The Winter had now almost reached its conclusion, though some of the boys
who claimed to be weather-wise declared that they would very likely have
just one more cold snap before the final break-up.

They hoped it might be severe enough to give them a last chance to skate
upon the Mohunk, and use their ice-boat again. The ice had become pretty
"punky," as Bristles called it, with numerous airholes that threatened
disaster in case one went too close, so that for several days Fred and
his chums had avoided the river.

This trip up into the woods on Saturday afternoon had been taken just to
enjoy the first real tramp of the season, and to get together to talk of
plans for the coming Spring athletics. As boys can never resist the
temptation to throw snowballs when the moist white covering seems just
suited to such conditions, every little while one of them discovered some
sort of target at which they could exercise their skill.

Once it had been a venturesome bluejay that had wintered near the Mohunk;
but the wary bird was awing before the first snowball struck near its
perch. Then a crow dared them, and fled amidst a s