Corrie. Once more there was an abrupt
pause in the process, and the three heads were bent eagerly forward
watching for symptoms of returning life. Corrie was right. The
seaman's left eye quivered for a moment, causing the hearts of the three
children to beat high with hope. Presently the other eye also quivered;
then the broad chest rose almost imperceptibly, and a faint sigh came
feebly and broken from the cold blue lips.

To say that the three children were delighted at this would be to give
but a feeble idea of the state of their feelings. Corrie had, even in
the short time yet afforded him of knowing Bumpus, entertained for him
feelings of the deepest admiration and love. 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 unaided 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. He began to bake the seaman, as it were,
with his fists. As the process went on he warmed to the work, and did
it so energetically, in his mingled anxiety and hope, that it assumed
the character of hitting rather than punching--to the dismay of Alice,
who thought it impossible that any human being could stand such dreadful
treatment.

Whether it was to