“Draw up your long shanks a bit and give a man room to sit down.”
With a muttered growl Kendall made room as Adam desired. Gathering his cloak closely around him, Adam squashed down upon the ground like a ripe tomato, from under which two huge boots stuck out straight in front. His legs had disappeared under his mountain of flesh.
Captain Smith could not forbear joining in the shout of laughter that burst involuntarily from the rest of the company.
Not in the least disconcerted by their laughter, Adam squirmed around until he had made himself comfortable, and proceeded to open conversation with the grim and scowling men around him.
“By my faith, Martin, you look like a mourner at a funeral! Take heart, man; perhaps the ‘Injun’ lady you told me about will step over to-morrow with a bushel or two of corn and a brace of wild turkeys. Gad, I can smell ’em roasting now.”
“Quit your talk about food, or I will break every bone in your body; that is, all that haven’t turned to grease,” said Kendall with a scowl.
Misery again settled upon the faces of the men as they unconsciously licked their cracked lips at the mention of the savory turkeys.
“Jealousy, man; pure jealousy is your disease,” returned Adam with a sly wink of his brown eye. “If you had more flesh on that skeleton of yours you would not be looking through blue spectacles, and we would not be compelled to study anatomy all the time.
“I’ll tell you a tale about a real fat man I saw once. It happened down at the ‘Three Swans’ just at Christmas time. I stopped there for dinner, and I tell you it was worth eating. First there was a roast pig—”
“Didn’t I tell you to quit talking about food!” bellowed Kendall.