First they made for the willows that lined the river bank two miles above the post. Tammas had told them they were certain to find large flocks of ptarmigans there, feeding upon the tender tops of the bushes. This proved to be the case, and without difficulty Paul secured a half dozen of the birds with his shotgun. Not far beyond they halted among the thick spruce trees, and made a rousing camp-fire. Then Dan with the axe built a lean-to facing the fire, while Paul broke spruce boughs with which to thatch it, and for their seat. These preparations completed, and the ptarmigans plucked, they lounged back upon the boughs under the shelter of the lean-to, to chat about their homes, their plans, and their home-going, until time to cook dinner. Two of the ptarmigans were fried with pork, and the bread was toasted, for variety, and it is safe to say that nowhere in the wide world was a banquet eaten that Christmas day with keener relish or greater enjoyment than this simple meal in that far-away spruce-clad wilderness. Dinner eaten and dishes washed, Dan piled fresh wood upon the fire, and the boys spread themselves luxuriously upon the boughs to bask in the warmth. Paul lay gazing into the blaze, quite lost in thought, while Dan played his harmonica. One of Dan’s favorite tunes was “Over the Hills and Far Away.” Presently he struck up the air, and immediately a melodious tenor voice, singing to the accompaniment of Dan’s music, began: “Tom he was a piper’s son, He learned to play when he was young; But all the tune that he could play, Was ‘Over the hills and far away.’” The boys were startled. They had heard no one approach, and they sprang to their feet. Standing by the fire opposite them was a tall, lank man of middle age. In the hollow of his left arm a rifle rested. He was dressed as a trapper--a fur cap, buckskin capote, buckskin leggins, and moccasins. Beside him stood an Indian, similarly dressed and nearly as tall and lank as himself. [Illustration: The boys were startled. They had heard no one approach] CHAPTER XV THE TRAPPER FROM INDIAN LAKE The stranger laughed at the startled boys, who gazed at him and the Indian in mute surprise. Wrinkles at the corners of his gray-blue eyes indicated habitual good humor. The eyes themselves seemed always to smile, even when his lips did not. “You were having such a good time,” said he, in a rich, well-modulated voice, “that I disliked to disturb you, but it has been so long since I saw a white face that I had to do it.” “We’re mighty glad you did,” answered Paul, who instinctively felt that in spite of his rough exterior and dress their visitor was well bred and cultured. “Won’t you sit down?” he continued. “We’re just out from the post enjoying the holiday.”