“Well, we’ll see about that.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, sir—but then, the main thing is, to have you with us. For a hunter like you, sir, Africa’s a great country. So, either way, you won’t be sorry for the trip.”
“No, that’s a fact, I shan’t be sorry for it, if I can get this crazy man to give up his scheme.”
“By-the-way,” said Joe, “you know that the weighing comes off to-day.”
“The weighing—what weighing?”
“Why, my master, and you, and I, are all to be weighed to-day!”
“What! like horse-jockeys?”
“Yes, like jockeys. Only, never fear, you won’t be expected to make yourself lean, if you’re found to be heavy. You’ll go as you are.”
“Well, I can tell you, I am not going to let myself be weighed,” said Kennedy, firmly.
“But, sir, it seems that the doctor’s machine requires it.”
“Well, his machine will have to do without it.”
“Humph! and suppose that it couldn’t go up, then?”
“Egad! that’s all I want!”
“Come! come, Mr. Kennedy! My master will be sending for us directly.”
“I shan’t go.”
“Oh! now, you won’t vex the doctor in that way!”
“Aye! that I will.”
“Well!” said Joe with a laugh, “you say that because he’s not here; but when he says to your face, ‘Dick!’ (with all respect to you, sir,) ‘Dick, I want to know exactly how much you weigh,’ you’ll go, I warrant it.”
“No, I will NOT go!”
At this moment the doctor entered his study, where this discussion had been taking place; and, as he came in, cast a glance at Kennedy, who did not feel altogether at his ease.
“Dick,” said the doctor, “come with Joe; I want to know how much you both weigh.”
“But—”
“You may keep your hat on. Come!” And Kennedy went.
They repaired in company to the workshop of the Messrs. Mitchell, where one of those so-called “Roman” scales was in readiness. It was necessary, by the way, for the doctor to know the weight of his companions, so as to fix the equilibrium of his balloon; so he made Dick get up on the platform of the scales. The latter, without making any resistance, said, in an undertone:
“Oh! well, that doesn’t bind me to any thing.”
“One hundred and fifty-three pounds,” said the doctor, noting it down on his tablets.
“Am I too heavy?”
“Why, no, Mr. Kennedy!” said Joe; “and then, you know, I am light to make up for it.”
So saying, Joe, with enthusiasm, took his place on the scales, and very nearly upset them in his ready haste. He struck the attitude of Wellington where he is made to ape Achilles, at Hyde-Park entrance, and was superb in it, without the shield.
“One hundred and twenty pounds,” wrote the doctor.
“Ah! ha!” said Joe, with a smile of satisfaction And why did he smile? He never could tell himself.
“It’s my turn now,” said Ferguson—and he put down one hundred and thirty-five pounds to his own account.
“All three of us,” said he, “do not weigh much more than four hundred pounds.”
“But, sir,” said Joe, “if it was necessary for your expedition, I could make myself thinner by twenty pounds, by not eating so much.”
“Useless, my boy!” replied the doctor. “You may eat as much as you like, and here’s half-a-crown to buy you the ballast.”
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