I gave so heavy a bump that he yelled out, but I only laughed, for every doubt of his condition had passed away, as he proved to me in our struggle that he was as strong and well able to be about as I.
“Now then, if I get off, will you wash and dress?”
“I’ll thrash you till you can’t stand,” he snarled.
“Not you. Be too grateful; and if you speak like that again I’ll nip your ribs twice as hard.”
“You wait till I get up.”
“You’re not going to get up,” I said, “till you promise to behave yourself.”
“I’ll make you sorry for this, my fine fellow, as soon as I’m well.”
“Then you had better do it at once,” I said, “if you can.”
He gave another heave, but I was too firmly settled, and he subsided again, and lay panting and glaring at me fiercely.
“There, let’s have no more nonsense,” I said at last; “don’t be so silly. I only did it all in fun to get you to make an effort. Will you get up quietly and shake hands?”