“Stretch indeed!” put in little Patiño. “There is a rack in the camp; it can stretch you out to ten feet at least, my friend.”
“’Tis only a matter of a few inches more or less,” said De Baçan, laughing, “and upon my life, I have ever thought you too broad across the shoulders to be in good proportion.” Then the three of them roared with laughing.
I saw no humor in this speech.
“In a bout at strength I find the breadth of shoulder of some small value,” said I.
“Well said! The old woman grows a spicy tongue, Patiño. Humph! You like the shoulders broad,—mayhap you’d like them broader; we can stretch or draw you out in any direction to suit the fancy—cut you down or push you in—eh! Patiño?—bloat you up or pull you out—as you will. What think you of the business?”
“There is small profit in it for me, Señor,” I replied in good part.
“He’s content with his deformity, Vincente.”
“’Tis like a smug Englishman,” sneered Patiño.
“Nay, I am but a slow sort of person, lieutenant, and find your mode of progress far too rapid,” I laughed.
“Bah!” growled Diego. “You fancy yourself most satisfactory upon all points.”