that she would have succeeded in this, had not the
formation of the ground been exceedingly unfavourable for such a
manoeuvre.

Corrie had shewn such an amount of desperate vindictiveness, in the way
of kicking, hitting, biting, scratching, and pinching, when the savages
were securing him, that they gave him five or six extra coils of the
rope of cocoa-nut fibre with which they bound him. Consequently he
could not move any of his limbs, and he now lay on his side between
Alice and Poopy, gazing with much earnestness and no little astonishment
at the peculiar contortions of the latter.

"You'll never manage it, Poopy," he remarked in a sad tone of voice, on
beholding the poor girl balanced on the small of her back, preparatory
to making a spring that might have reminded one of the leaps of a trout
when thrown from its native element upon the bank of a river. "And
you'll break your neck if you go on like that," he added, on observing
that, having failed in these attempts, she recurred to the
heels-over-head process--but all in vain.

"Oh, me!" sighed Poopy, as she fell back in a fit of exhaustion. "It's
be all hup wid us."

"Don't say that, you goose," whispered Corrie, "you'll frighten Alice,
you will."

"Will me?" whispered Poopy, in a tone of self-reproach; then in a loud
voice, "Oh, no! it not all hup yet, Miss Alice. See, me go at it agin."

And "go at it" she did in a way that actually alarmed her companions.
At any other time Corrie would have exploded with laughter, but the poor
boy was thoroughly overwhelmed by the suddenness and the extent of his
misfortune. The image of Bumpus, disappearing headlong over that
terrible cliff, had filled his heart with a feeling of horror which
nothing could allay, and grave thoughts at the desperate case of poor
little Alice (for he neither thought of nor cared for Poopy or himself)
sank like a weight of lead upon his spirit.

"Don't try it any more, dear Poopy," said Alice, entreatingly, "you'll
only hurt yourself and tear your frock. I feel _sure_ that some one
will be sent to deliver us. Don't _you_, Corrie?"

The tone in which this question was put shewed that the poor child did
not feel quite so certain of the arrival of succour as her words
implied. Corrie perceived this at once, and, with the heroism of a true
lover, he crushed back the feelings of anxiety and alarm which were
creeping over his own stout little heart in spite of his brave words,
and gav