We'd better warm him!" And the two boys knelt before the fire with me between them, turning me at the end of my chain so as to get the warmth on all sides, like a leg of mutton on a spit.
Of course that had no effect.

What was to be done?
No winding up, no shaking, no irritation of my wheels with a pin, no warming of me at the fire, could avail anything.

They were ready to give me up.

Suddenly, however, Tom, who had been examining my face minutely, burst into a loud laugh.
"What a young donkey you are!" he cried.

"Don't you see his hands are caught?
That's what's the matter.