Ducks were shot, a yearling from the wild cattle was killed, the stores from the ship were drawn upon liberally, and he even found among them a pudding which could yet be made savory.

Long experience had made him an excellent cook and he attended to every detail in the most thorough manner.
The dinner set, he arrayed himself in the finest clothes to be found in his stock, and then, when all was ready, he sat down to his improvised board.

But there was not one plate alone, there were four, one for Willet opposite him, one for Tayoga at his right hand and one for Grosvenor at his left.

And for every thing he ate he placed at least a small portion on every plate, while with unspoken words he talked with these three friends of his.
It was a dark day, very cold and raw for the island, and while there was no Christmas snow there was a cold rain lashing the windows that could very well take its place.

A larger fire than usual, crackling and cheerful, was blazing on the hearth, throwing the red light of its flames over the table, and the three places where his invisible friends sat.
His power of evocation was so vivid and intense that he could very well say that he saw his comrades around the table.