He listened with manifest interest while Paul related the happenings of the weeks just past, and until Dan finally set the pan of fried ptarmigan between the visitors, interrupting with: “Tea’s ready, sir. Help yourselves t’ th’ pa’tridges an’ bread.” And while Dan poured the tea and the two men stirred in molasses from the bottle, Amesbury hummed irrelevantly: “Heigh ding-a-ding, what shall I sing? How many holes has a skimmer? Four and twenty. I’m half starving! Mother, pray give me some dinner.” Then, as he took a piece of breast from the pan: “Well, Densmore, the rest of the story. Don’t mind the interruption. It was important. But so is your story. I’m immensely interested.” The story and dinner were finished together. Amesbury made no comment at once, then while he cut tobacco from a black plug, and stuffed it into his pipe, he repeated: “O, that I was where I would be, Then would I be where I am not! But where I am I must be, And where I would be I cannot. “That reference is to you chaps. I wouldn’t be anywhere else if I could, and I wouldn’t have missed this good Christmas dinner and meeting you fellows right here for worlds.” Reaching for a hot coal he applied it to his pipe, and the pipe lighted he resumed his reclining position, puffing quietly for a moment, when he remarked: “Old Davy MacTavish is as hard as they make ’em. The company is all there is in the world for him that’s worth while. He’d cut a man’s soul out and throw it to the dogs, if the company would profit by his doing so. Thank God, the factors aren’t all like him.” “Bad man,” remarked Ahmik, puffing at his pipe. Amesbury lapsed into silence, while he smoked and gazed at the fire, apparently in deep reflection. Presently, as though a brilliant thought had occurred to him, he exclaimed enthusiastically: “I have it! How would you chaps like to leave the post and go up Indian Lake way with me trapping for the winter? I go out to Winnipeg in the spring with my catch, and you might go along, if the wolves don’t eat you up in the meantime, or you don’t freeze to death.” “Could we? Could we go with you?” asked Paul excitedly. “’T would be wonderful fine!” exclaimed Dan. “No reason why you can’t. I’m up there all alone, and I need a couple of chaps like you to use for dumb-bells, or to kick around when I want exercise, or suffer from _ennui_.” “We’ll be wonderful glad o’ th’ chance t’ go with you,” said Dan, “and t’ be doin’ things t’ help when you’s sick an’ sufferin’, but I’s not likin’ t’ be kicked, sir. Is ‘ownwe’ a bad ailment, sir?” “Pretty bad sometimes, but I’ll try and control myself and not kick you _very_ hard,” explained Amesbury, looking very grave about his lips but with eyes betraying merriment. “Oh, Dan,” exclaimed Paul, laughing outright, “ennui isn’t a sickness. Mr. Amesbury is just joking.” Dan did not understand the joke, but he smiled uncertainly, nevertheless.