“Let Fred Rush pick up a poker, and he’ll get the hot end in his hand,” said one of the girls one day, and this remark came close to hitting the nail squarely on the head. Yet with all his trials and tribulations Fred rarely lost his temper, and he was always ready to promise better things for the future.
The boys skated a good half mile up the lake shore. At this point they met several girls, and one of them, Cora Runnell, asked Joe if he would fix her skate for her.
“Certainly I will,” replied the youth, and on the instant he was kneeling on the ice and adjusting a clamp that had become wedged fast to the shoe plate of the skate. Cora was the daughter of an old hunter and trapper of that vicinity, and as he worked Joe asked her what her father was doing.
“He isn’t doing anything just now,” was the girl’s answer. “He was out acting as a guide for a party of New York sportsmen, but they went back to the city last week.”
“Did you hear him say anything about game?”
“Yes, he said the season was a very good one. The party got six deer over at Rawson Hill and a moose at Bender’s, and any quantity of small game. I think pa’s going out alone in a day or two—just to see what he can bring down for the market at Brookside.”
“I wish he’d take me along. I’ve got a new double-barreled shotgun that I want to try the worst way.”
“And I’ve got one, too,” broke in Fred. “I’m sure we could bring down lots of game between us.”
Cora Runnell looked at the stout youth, and began to giggle. “Oh, dear, if you went along I guess pa’d have to hide behind a tree when you took your turn at shooting.”
“Whoop, you’re discovered, Fred!” burst out Harry. “Cora must have heard how you shot off both barrels at once, and——”