“Well, it’s a good deal of hard work and some inconvenience until you get started.  But, O my! the eats the next day!  Little fat fellows all stewed down until they’re tender.”

“Let’s get a bunch,” suggested Willis weakly, watching Ham for a cue.

“There isn’t a gun in the crowd,” laughed one.

“You could use clubs, couldn’t you?” asked another.

“Well, it’s just like this,” continued Ham:  “you pick out a couple of fellows for the trappers who are strong and husky, and who aren’t afraid to do their share of the work.”  Ham smiled at Willis.  “Then you place them one at each side of the canyon.  You take a shovel, dig a deep hole in the snow for the trapper to stand in so he can work easily without stooping over.  Of course, each trapper has a bag, a gunny-sack, or a common flour sack will do, and a lantern.  You can use a candle all right, if you have no lantern.  I’ve seen very successful hunts conducted by using candles.  The trapper stands with his bag held open between his legs.  It’s a good scheme to tie the bag, a side to each knee, so you can keep the mouth open without using your hands.  You’ll need them for numerous other things, probably.  The rest of the hunters divide into two parties, and each party climbs the opposite ridge of the gulch, working up the canyon without really going through it.  In that way the birds are not disturbed.  Then, at a given signal, both parties descend into the canyon and the hunt begins.  Every man must be absolutely silent, for I’ve seen one mouthy fellow spoil a whole evening’s fun.  Now, if any of you fellows are sure you can’t keep still for a little, even in a good deal of excitement, you better stay here.  If we fail, it will be some one’s fault.”  Ham noticed the sly glances that were going back and forth between Mr. Allen and Mr. Dean, but he was sure he could count on both of them, for they liked real fun as well as any of the boys.

“The hunters then move down the canyon in a skirmish line, thrashing the bushes with their pine boughs.  As they advance the birds will awaken with a shrill little peep and scuttle off through the bushes down the canyon and directly toward the trappers.  The birds take just little flights at a time, so you must keep them moving or they will swarm and fly away in a panic.  If a flock panic on you, you might as well quit, for every bird in the canyon will follow.  You see this is the game:  snowbirds live on little bugs that are found in great numbers around the great Northern Lights.  When they see those candles flickering there in the great white quiet, the snow reflecting the long rays out between the dark tree trunks, they think it’s the northern lights, and fly straight toward the candle.  All the trapper has to do, then, is to take them in his hand and bag them.  Sometimes they come in such great numbers that they fairly swarm into the bag.  When each trapper has enough, he puts his mouth close to the snow and halloos to the drivers.  At the signal they stop hunting and come into camp.  Fun, why it’s the most fun I ever had in my life!  The foolish little birds are so easily caught.  You see, instead of getting out and hustling for their food, they think it will all be provided for them by kind Providence or others,” and Ham smiled.