“By leaving our provisions behind,” answered Hake.
“Ha! did not I say that he could tell you?” growled Thorward between his teeth, which were at that moment conflicting with the sinewy part of the drumstick.
“There is something in that,” remarked Karlsefin.
“Something in it!” exclaimed Thorward, resting for a moment from his labours in order to wash all down with a cataract of water; “why, there is everything in it. Who ever heard of a man running a race with a full stomach—much less winning it? If we would win we must voyage light; besides, what need is there to carry salt salmon and dried flesh with us when the woods are swarming with such as these, and when we have a man in our company who can bring down a magpie on the wing?”
“And that’s true, if anything ever was,” observed Krake, who had been too busy up to that point to do more than listen.
Hake nodded his approval of the sentiment, and Karlsefin said that he quite agreed with it, and would act upon the advice next day.
“Just take a very little salmon,” suggested Tyrker, with a sigh, “for fear this good fortune should perhaps come suddenly to an end.”
There was a general laugh at Tyrker’s caution, and Karlsefin said he was at liberty to fill his own pockets with salmon for his own use, if he chose.
“Sure it would be much better,” cried Krake, “to eat a week’s allowance all at once, and so save time and trouble.”
“If I had your stomach, Krake, I might try that,” retorted Tyrker, “but mine is not big enough.”