Alice and Poopy, out of sheer sympathy, had fallen in love with him too, at first sight; so that his horrible death (as they had supposed), coupled with his unexpected restoration and revival through their united exertions, drew them still closer to him, and created within them a sort of feeling that he must, in common reason and justice, regard himself as their special property in all future time.

When, therefore, they saw him wink, and heard him sigh, the gush of emotion that filled their respective bosoms was quite overpowering.

Corrie gasped in his effort not to break down; Alice wept with silent joy as she continued to chafe the man's limbs; and Poopy went off into a violent fit of hysterical laughter, in which her "hee, hees" resounded with terrible shrillness among the surrounding cliffs.
"Now, then, let's to work again with a will," said Corrie.

"What d'ye say to try punching him ?" This question he put gravely, and with the uncertain air of a man who feels that he is treading on new and possibly dangerous ground.
"What is punching ?" inquired Alice.
"Why, _that_," replied the boy, giving a practical and by no means gentle illustration on his own fat thigh.
"Wouldn't it hurt him ?" said Alice, dubiously.
"Hurt him! hurt the Grampus!" cried Corrie, with a look of surprise; "you might as well talk of hurting a hippopotamus.

Come, I'll try." Accordingly, Corrie tried.