"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.
"Did you ever eat quail on toast in some of these stylish restaurants?" queried Fat, who had caught onto the game. "Well, all in the world they are is snowbirds. I suppose there are any number of fellows who make a living by just that trick."
A general discussion followed. Every one was ready and anxious for the hunt to commence. Candles were gotten ready and a shovel found. Ham took Phil, Fat, and Mr. Dean to help him find some sacks that were supposedly down in the gulch, but in reality to explain to them just what he wanted them to do. My, what a laugh they did have when they reached the open. Fat was instructed to offer his services as the holder of one bag and to suggest that Sleepy hold the other. They would plant Sleepy first, then Fat would go on with the bunch. Mr. Dean and Ham would hide themselves in the brush on either side of Sleepy. Fat would instruct his crowd what was to be done, and Phil would take charge of the other group. They would go down the canyon, over the ridge, then swing round and come back high on the hill, so as to completely lose Sleepy, who would be placed where both parties could see him by his light, but, of course, he could not see any of them out in the shadows and the night.
"If any fellow makes a stir," continued Ham, "the game is up. Remember,
Phil, you are boss of that crowd."
A difference of opinion had broken out among the rest while Ham and the others were getting the sacks, for Willis, in a sly way, had suggested that the game was a fake, but Sleepy scoffed at the idea.
"You do just as Ham says, and you'll see it's all true," cried Sleepy hotly. "He knows more about camping than all the rest of us put together. If you don't want to go, stay here. I'll hold a sack myself, and if I don't get it full of birds before I come home I'll treat every one of you." Fat entered just in time to hear the foregoing conversation.
"I'm with you, Sleepy," he cried. "We'll have snowbirds for breakfast in the morning."
"O shucks," scoffed some one, "there aren't enough snowbirds in Colorado to fill a sack like that!"