Fred's closest chums were Joe and Harry Westmore, the sons of a local flour and feed dealer. The Westmores were fairly well to do, and had recently come into possession of valuable land near the head of the lake.
As already intimated, the three boys had, during the previous winter, organized the Gun Club of Lakeport, the doings of which organization have already been set down by me in another volume, entitled, "The Gun Club Boys of Lakeport." With an old hunter named Joel Runnell they set out for Pine Island, located near the head of the lake, and there spent several weeks in hunting and trapping game, and in fishing through the ice. During a part of the outing they had had with them two of their fellow members, Link Darrow and Bart Mason, and also a young Irish lad named Teddy Dugan. Some of their adventures had been perilous, but all had ended happily, and when they had returned to Lakeport with their game the success of the gun club had been the talk of the town for several weeks.
"Those boys are all right," was the comment of Mr. Paxton, the postmaster. "I reckon a lot of other young fellows wish they had been along."
"Well, I wish I had been there," Paul Shale had answered, and in this declaration he had been joined by Frank Pemberton, Walter Bannister, Matt Roscoe, and half a dozen other lads of Lakeport, who had hung fire about going.
The outing in the woods had been productive of one very important result. A dishonest real estate dealer of Brookside had been claiming some land which rightfully belonged to the Westmore family. On the island the young hunters had picked up some legal documents which proved the Westmore claim, and Hiram Skeetles, the real estate dealer, had been made to right the wrong done. Skeetles had had as his friend a bully of Lakeport named Dan Marcy. When the exposure came the real estate dealer departed for parts unknown. But Dan Marcy was more brazen, and as soon as the talk over the affair subsided he returned to the vicinity of Lakeport, to begin his bullying habits as of yore. So far he had not bothered the Westmores and Fred Rush, but the time was coming when he would do so, as we shall presently see.
Joe found his brother Harry working over some photographs which he had been printing. Harry owned a good snap-shot camera, and during the outing in the woods had taken a number of really fine photographs, one of which had been enlarged and now hung framed in the parlor.
"Give it up, Harry!" he called out. "Fred wants us to play ball. I'm going to drum up some of the other fellows and he is going to do the same."
"All right, just as soon as this picture is finished," answered Harry, who was just a year and a day younger than his brother. "Isn't it a dandy!" and he held up the print in hand. It represented all of the young hunters and old Runnell in front of the campfire, each with a gun, ax, or kitchen utensil in his hand. "I'm going to send it to Aunt Laura. She asked me for it."
"Those were surely gay old times, Harry. But hurry up—we don't want to keep the others waiting."
Joe ran off, to find Frank Pemberton and Paul Shale, who lived but a short distance away. He found them trying their skill at long jumping.