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\title{Peter and Wendy}


\author{James Matthew Barrie}

\maketitle
\vspace*{\stretch{1}}

\noindent {\small This edition of} \emph{\small Peter Pan} {\small has
been created in the United States of America from a comparison of
various editions determined by age to be in the Public Domain in the
United States. There are questions concerning the copyright status
in other countries, particulary in members or former members of the
British Commonwealth\ldots{}. To assist in the preservation of this
edition in proper usage, our edition is claimed as copyright (c)1991
due to our preparations of several sources, our own research, and
the inclusions of additions and explanations to the original sources\ldots{}.}{\small \par}

\noindent \begin{center}\noun{\small A Millennium Fulcrum Edition}\\
\noun{\small (c)1991 by Duncan Research}\end{center}{\small \par}

\noindent {[}The notes above are extracts written by the original
preparers of the online text. Actually, the plain text\mbox{---}which
is all that is relevant to the present edition\mbox{---}is in the
public domain in the U.S. Note that Barrie's {}``Peter Pan'' was
a play (1904); the work presented here is instead the novelized form
{}``Peter and Wendy'' (1911). The Project Gutenberg edition ({}``peter16'')
was converted to \LaTeX{} using \textbf{GutenMark} software. Additional
editing was done by Ron Burkey to correct formatting problems, and
to remove Duncan Research's editorial notes.{]} Revision B1 differs
from B in that {}``----'' has everywhere been replaced by {}``---''.

\noindent \begin{center}Revision: B1\\
Date: 01/29/2008\end{center}

\vspace{\stretch{1}}

\frontmatter
\pagestyle{myheadings} {\footnotesize \tableofcontents{}}\newpage


\begin{quotation}
\mainmatter
\end{quotation}

\chapter*{Chapter 1. \textit{\emph{Peter}} \textit{\emph{Breaks}} \textit{\emph{Through}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 1. \textit{\emph{Peter}} \textit{\emph{Breaks}}
\textit{\emph{Through}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 1}

All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow
up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years
old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and
ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful,
for Mrs.\ Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, {}``Oh, why
can't you remain like this for ever!'' This was all that passed between
them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow
up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the
end.

Of course they lived at 14, and until Wendy came her mother was the
chief one. She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a
sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one
within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you
discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had
one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there is was, perfectly
conspicuous in the right-hand corner.

The way Mr.\ Darling won her was this: the many gentlemen who had
been boys when she was a girl discovered simultaneously that they
loved her, and they all ran to her house to propose to her except
Mr.\ Darling, who took a cab and nipped in first, and so he got her.
He got all of her, except the innermost box and the kiss. He never
knew about the box, and in time he gave up trying for the kiss. Wendy
thought Napoleon could have got it, but I can picture him trying,
and then going off in a passion, slamming the door.

Mr.\ Darling used to boast to Wendy that her mother not only loved
him but respected him. He was one of those deep ones who know about
stocks and shares. Of course no one really knows, but he quite seemed
to know, and he often said stocks were up and shares were down in
a way that would have made any woman respect him.

Mrs.\ Darling was married in white, and at first she kept the books
perfectly, almost gleefully, as if it were a game, not so much as
a Brussels sprout was missing; but by and by whole cauliflowers dropped
out, and instead of them there were pictures of babies without faces.
She drew them when she should have been totting up. They were Mrs.\ Darling's
guesses.

Wendy came first, then John, then Michael.

For a week or two after Wendy came it was doubtful whether they would
be able to keep her, as she was another mouth to feed. Mr.\ Darling
was frightfully proud of her, but he was very honourable, and he sat
on the edge of Mrs.\ Darling's bed, holding her hand and calculating
expenses, while she looked at him imploringly. She wanted to risk
it, come what might, but that was not his way; his way was with a
pencil and a piece of paper, and if she confused him with suggestions
he had to begin at the beginning again.

{}``Now don't interrupt,'' he would beg of her.

{}``I have one pound seventeen here, and two and six at the office;
I can cut off my coffee at the office, say ten shillings, making two
nine and six, with your eighteen and three makes three nine seven,
with five naught naught in my cheque-book makes eight nine seven\mbox{---}who
is that moving?\mbox{---}eight nine seven, dot and carry seven\mbox{---}don't
speak, my own\mbox{---}and the pound you lent to that man who came
to the door\mbox{---}quiet, child\mbox{---}dot and carry child\mbox{---}there,
you've done it!\mbox{---}did I say nine nine seven? yes, I said nine
nine seven; the question is, can we try it for a year on nine nine
seven?''\ 

{}``Of course we can, George,'' she cried. But she was prejudiced
in Wendy's favour, and he was really the grander character of the
two.

{}``Remember mumps,'' he warned her almost threateningly, and off
he went again. {}``Mumps one pound, that is what I have put down,
but I daresay it will be more like thirty shillings\mbox{---}don't
speak\mbox{---}measles one five, German measles half a guinea, makes
two fifteen six\mbox{---}don't waggle your finger\mbox{---}whooping-cough,
say fifteen shillings''---and so on it went, and it added up differently
each time; but at last Wendy just got through, with mumps reduced
to twelve six, and the two kinds of measles treated as one.

There was the same excitement over John, and Michael had even a narrower
squeak; but both were kept, and soon, you might have seen the three
of them going in a row to Miss Fulsom's Kindergarten school, accompanied
by their nurse.

Mrs.\ Darling loved to have everything just so, and Mr.\ Darling
had a passion for being exactly like his neighbours; so, of course,
they had a nurse. As they were poor, owing to the amount of milk the
children drank, this nurse was a prim Newfoundland dog, called Nana,
who had belonged to no one in particular until the Darlings engaged
her. She had always thought children important, however, and the Darlings
had become acquainted with her in Kensington Gardens, where she spent
most of her spare time peeping into perambulators, and was much hated
by careless nursemaids, whom she followed to their homes and complained
of to their mistresses. She proved to be quite a treasure of a nurse.
How thorough she was at bath-time, and up at any moment of the night
if one of her charges made the slightest cry. Of course her kennel
was in the nursery. She had a genius for knowing when a cough is a
thing to have no patience with and when it needs stocking around your
throat. She believed to her last day in old-fashioned remedies like
rhubarb leaf, and made sounds of contempt over all this new-fangled
talk about germs, and so on. It was a lesson in propriety to see her
escorting the children to school, walking sedately by their side when
they were well behaved, and butting them back into line if they strayed.
On John's footer days she never once forgot his sweater, and she usually
carried an umbrella in her mouth in case of rain. There is a room
in the basement of Miss Fulsom's school where the nurses wait. They
sat on forms, while Nana lay on the floor, but that was the only difference.
They affected to ignore her as of an inferior social status to themselves,
and she despised their light talk. She resented visits to the nursery
from Mrs.\ Darling's friends, but if they did come she first whipped
off Michael's pinafore and put him into the one with blue braiding,
and smoothed out Wendy and made a dash at John's hair.

No nursery could possibly have been conducted more correctly, and
Mr.\ Darling knew it, yet he sometimes wondered uneasily whether
the neighbours talked.

He had his position in the city to consider.

Nana also troubled him in another way. He had sometimes a feeling
that she did not admire him. {}``I know she admires you tremendously,
George,'' Mrs.\ Darling would assure him, and then she would sign
to the children to be specially nice to father. Lovely dances followed,
in which the only other servant, Liza, was sometimes allowed to join.
Such a midget she looked in her long skirt and maid's cap, though
she had sworn, when engaged, that she would never see ten again. The
gaiety of those romps! And gayest of all was Mrs.\ Darling, who would
pirouette so wildly that all you could see of her was the kiss, and
then if you had dashed at her you might have got it. There never was
a simpler happier family until the coming of Peter Pan.

Mrs.\ Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up her children's
minds. It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children
are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for next
morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that
have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course
you can't) you would see your own mother doing this, and you would
find it very interesting to watch her. It is quite like tidying up
drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously
over some of your contents, wondering where on earth you had picked
this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing
this to her cheek as if it were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly
stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness
and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small
and placed at the bottom of your mind and on the top, beautifully
aired, are spread out your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put
on.

I don't know whether you have ever seen a map of a person's mind.
Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, and your own map
can become intensely interesting, but catch them trying to draw a
map of a child's mind, which is not only confused, but keeps going
round all the time. There are zigzag lines on it, just like your temperature
on a card, and these are probably roads in the island, for the Neverland
is always more or less an island, with astonishing splashes of colour
here and there, and coral reefs and rakish-looking craft in the offing,
and savages and lonely lairs, and gnomes who are mostly tailors, and
caves through which a river runs, and princes with six elder brothers,
and a hut fast going to decay, and one very small old lady with a
hooked nose. It would be an easy map if that were all, but there is
also first day at school, religion, fathers, the round pond, needle-work,
murders, hangings, verbs that take the dative, chocolate pudding day,
getting into braces, say ninety-nine, three-pence for pulling out
your tooth yourself, and so on, and either these are part of the island
or they are another map showing through, and it is all rather confusing,
especially as nothing will stand still.

Of course the Neverlands vary a good deal. John's, for instance, had
a lagoon with flamingoes flying over it at which John was shooting,
while Michael, who was very small, had a flamingo with lagoons flying
over it. John lived in a boat turned upside down on the sands, Michael
in a wigwam, Wendy in a house of leaves deftly sewn together. John
had no friends, Michael had friends at night, Wendy had a pet wolf
forsaken by its parents, but on the whole the Neverlands have a family
resemblance, and if they stood still in a row you could say of them
that they have each other's nose, and so forth. On these magic shores
children at play are for ever beaching their coracles. We too have
been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall
land no more.

Of all delectable islands the Neverland is the snuggest and most compact,
not large and sprawly, you know, with tedious distances between one
adventure and another, but nicely crammed. When you play at it by
day with the chairs and table-cloth, it is not in the least alarming,
but in the two minutes before you go to sleep it becomes very real.
That is why there are night-lights.

Occasionally in her travels through her children's minds Mrs.\ Darling
found things she could not understand, and of these quite the most
perplexing was the word Peter. She knew of no Peter, and yet he was
here and there in John and Michael's minds, while Wendy's began to
be scrawled all over with him. The name stood out in bolder letters
than any of the other words, and as Mrs.\ Darling gazed she felt
that it had an oddly cocky appearance.

{}``Yes, he is rather cocky,'' Wendy admitted with regret. Her mother
had been questioning her.

{}``But who is he, my pet?''\ 

{}``He is Peter Pan, you know, mother.''

At first Mrs.\ Darling did not know, but after thinking back into
her childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live
with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children
died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be
frightened. She had believed in him at the time, but now that she
was married and full of sense she quite doubted whether there was
any such person.

{}``Besides,'' she said to Wendy, {}``he would be grown up by this
time.''

{}``Oh no, he isn't grown up,'' Wendy assured her confidently, {}``and
he is just my size.'' She meant that he was her size in both mind
and body; she didn't know how she knew, she just knew it.

Mrs.\ Darling consulted Mr.\ Darling, but he smiled pooh-pooh. {}``Mark
my words,'' he said, {}``it is some nonsense Nana has been putting
into their heads; just the sort of idea a dog would have. Leave it
alone, and it will blow over.''

But it would not blow over and soon the troublesome boy gave Mrs.\ Darling
quite a shock.

Children have the strangest adventures without being troubled by them.
For instance, they may remember to mention, a week after the event
happened, that when they were in the wood they had met their dead
father and had a game with him. It was in this casual way that Wendy
one morning made a disquieting revelation. Some leaves of a tree had
been found on the nursery floor, which certainly were not there when
the children went to bed, and Mrs.\ Darling was puzzling over them
when Wendy said with a tolerant smile:

{}``I do believe it is that Peter again!''\ 

{}``Whatever do you mean, Wendy?''\ 

{}``It is so naughty of him not to wipe his feet,'' Wendy said,
sighing. She was a tidy child.

She explained in quite a matter-of-fact way that she thought Peter
sometimes came to the nursery in the night and sat on the foot of
her bed and played on his pipes to her. Unfortunately she never woke,
so she didn't know how she knew, she just knew.

{}``What nonsense you talk, precious. No one can get into the house
without knocking.''

{}``I think he comes in by the window,'' she said.

{}``My love, it is three floors up.''

{}``Were not the leaves at the foot of the window, mother?''\ 

It was quite true; the leaves had been found very near the window.

Mrs.\ Darling did not know what to think, for it all seemed so natural
to Wendy that you could not dismiss it by saying she had been dreaming.

{}``My child,'' the mother cried, {}``why did you not tell me of
this before?''\ 

{}``I forgot,'' said Wendy lightly. She was in a hurry to get her
breakfast.

Oh, surely she must have been dreaming.

But, on the other hand, there were the leaves. Mrs.\ Darling examined
them very carefully; they were skeleton leaves, but she was sure they
did not come from any tree that grew in England. She crawled about
the floor, peering at it with a candle for marks of a strange foot.
She rattled the poker up the chimney and tapped the walls. She let
down a tape from the window to the pavement, and it was a sheer drop
of thirty feet, without so much as a spout to climb up by.

Certainly Wendy had been dreaming.

But Wendy had not been dreaming, as the very next night showed, the
night on which the extraordinary adventures of these children may
be said to have begun.

On the night we speak of all the children were once more in bed. It
happened to be Nana's evening off, and Mrs.\ Darling had bathed them
and sung to them till one by one they had let go her hand and slid
away into the land of sleep.

All were looking so safe and cosy that she smiled at her fears now
and sat down tranquilly by the fire to sew.

It was something for Michael, who on his birthday was getting into
shirts. The fire was warm, however, and the nursery dimly lit by three
night-lights, and presently the sewing lay on Mrs.\ Darling's lap.
Then her head nodded, oh, so gracefully. She was asleep. Look at the
four of them, Wendy and Michael over there, John here, and Mrs.\ Darling
by the fire. There should have been a fourth night-light.

While she slept she had a dream. She dreamt that the Neverland had
come too near and that a strange boy had broken through from it. He
did not alarm her, for she thought she had seen him before in the
faces of many women who have no children. Perhaps he is to be found
in the faces of some mothers also. But in her dream he had rent the
film that obscures the Neverland, and she saw Wendy and John and Michael
peeping through the gap.

The dream by itself would have been a trifle, but while she was dreaming
the window of the nursery blew open, and a boy did drop on the floor.
He was accompanied by a strange light, no bigger than your fist, which
darted about the room like a living thing and I think it must have
been this light that wakened Mrs.\ Darling.

She started up with a cry, and saw the boy, and somehow she knew at
once that he was Peter Pan. If you or I or Wendy had been there we
should have seen that he was very like Mrs.\ Darling's kiss. He was
a lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves and the juices that ooze out
of trees but the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all
his first teeth. When he saw she was a grown-up, he gnashed the little
pearls at her.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 2. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Shadow}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 2. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Shadow}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 2}

Mrs.\ Darling screamed, and, as if in answer to a bell, the door
opened, and Nana entered, returned from her evening out. She growled
and sprang at the boy, who leapt lightly through the window. Again
Mrs.\ Darling screamed, this time in distress for him, for she thought
he was killed, and she ran down into the street to look for his little
body, but it was not there; and she looked up, and in the black night
she could see nothing but what she thought was a shooting star.

She returned to the nursery, and found Nana with something in her
mouth, which proved to be the boy's shadow. As he leapt at the window
Nana had closed it quickly, too late to catch him, but his shadow
had not had time to get out; slam went the window and snapped it off.

You may be sure Mrs.\ Darling examined the shadow carefully, but
it was quite the ordinary kind.

Nana had no doubt of what was the best thing to do with this shadow.
She hung it out at the window, meaning {}``He is sure to come back
for it; let us put it where he can get it easily without disturbing
the children.''

But unfortunately Mrs.\ Darling could not leave it hanging out at
the window, it looked so like the washing and lowered the whole tone
of the house. She thought of showing it to Mr.\ Darling, but he was
totting up winter great-coats for John and Michael, with a wet towel
around his head to keep his brain clear, and it seemed a shame to
trouble him; besides, she knew exactly what he would say: {}``It
all comes of having a dog for a nurse.''

She decided to roll the shadow up and put it away carefully in a drawer,
until a fitting opportunity came for telling her husband. Ah me!

The opportunity came a week later, on that never-to-be-forgotten Friday.
Of course it was a Friday.

{}``I ought to have been specially careful on a Friday,'' she used
to say afterwards to her husband, while perhaps Nana was on the other
side of her, holding her hand.

{}``No, no,'' Mr.\ Darling always said, {}``I am responsible for
it all. I, George Darling, did it. \textit{Mea} \textit{culpa}, \textit{mea}
\textit{culpa}.'' He had had a classical education.

They sat thus night after night recalling that fatal Friday, till
every detail of it was stamped on their brains and came through on
the other side like the faces on a bad coinage.

{}``If only I had not accepted that invitation to dine at 27,''
Mrs.\ Darling said.

{}``If only I had not poured my medicine into Nana's bowl,'' said
Mr.\ Darling.

{}``If only I had pretended to like the medicine,'' was what Nana's
wet eyes said.

{}``My liking for parties, George.''

{}``My fatal gift of humour, dearest.''

{}``My touchiness about trifles, dear master and mistress.''

Then one or more of them would break down altogether; Nana at the
thought, {}``It's true, it's true, they ought not to have had a dog
for a nurse.'' Many a time it was Mr.\ Darling who put the handkerchief
to Nana's eyes.

{}``That fiend!''\ Mr.\ Darling would cry, and Nana's bark was
the echo of it, but Mrs.\ Darling never upbraided Peter; there was
something in the right-hand corner of her mouth that wanted her not
to call Peter names.

They would sit there in the empty nursery, recalling fondly every
smallest detail of that dreadful evening. It had begun so uneventfully,
so precisely like a hundred other evenings, with Nana putting on the
water for Michael's bath and carrying him to it on her back.

{}``I won't go to bed,'' he had shouted, like one who still believed
that he had the last word on the subject, {}``I won't, I won't. Nana,
it isn't six o'clock yet. Oh dear, oh dear, I shan't love you any
more, Nana. I tell you I won't be bathed, I won't, I won't!''\ 

Then Mrs.\ Darling had come in, wearing her white evening-gown. She
had dressed early because Wendy so loved to see her in her evening-gown,
with the necklace George had given her. She was wearing Wendy's bracelet
on her arm; she had asked for the loan of it. Wendy loved to lend
her bracelet to her mother.

She had found her two older children playing at being herself and
father on the occasion of Wendy's birth, and John was saying:

{}``I am happy to inform you, Mrs.\ Darling, that you are now a
mother,'' in just such a tone as Mr.\ Darling himself may have used
on the real occasion.

Wendy had danced with joy, just as the real Mrs.\ Darling must have
done.

Then John was born, with the extra pomp that he conceived due to the
birth of a male, and Michael came from his bath to ask to be born
also, but John said brutally that they did not want any more.

Michael had nearly cried. {}``Nobody wants me,'' he said, and of
course the lady in the evening-dress could not stand that.

{}``I do,'' she said, {}``I so want a third child.''

{}``Boy or girl?''\ asked Michael, not too hopefully.

{}``Boy.''

Then he had leapt into her arms. Such a little thing for Mr.\ and
Mrs.\ Darling and Nana to recall now, but not so little if that was
to be Michael's last night in the nursery.

They go on with their recollections.

{}``It was then that I rushed in like a tornado, wasn't it?''\ Mr.\  Darling
would say, scorning himself; and indeed he had been like a tornado.

Perhaps there was some excuse for him. He, too, had been dressing
for the party, and all had gone well with him until he came to his
tie. It is an astounding thing to have to tell, but this man, though
he knew about stocks and shares, had no real mastery of his tie. Sometimes
the thing yielded to him without a contest, but there were occasions
when it would have been better for the house if he had swallowed his
pride and used a made-up tie.

This was such an occasion. He came rushing into the nursery with the
crumpled little brute of a tie in his hand.

{}``Why, what is the matter, father dear?''\ 

{}``Matter!''\ he yelled; he really yelled. {}``This tie, it will
not tie.'' He became dangerously sarcastic. {}``Not round my neck!
Round the bed-post! Oh yes, twenty times have I made it up round the
bed-post, but round my neck, no! Oh dear no! begs to be excused!''\ 

He thought Mrs.\ Darling was not sufficiently impressed, and he went
on sternly, {}``I warn you of this, mother, that unless this tie
is round my neck we don't go out to dinner to-night, and if I don't
go out to dinner to-night, I never go to the office again, and if
I don't go to the office again, you and I starve, and our children
will be flung into the streets.''

Even then Mrs.\ Darling was placid. {}``Let me try, dear,'' she
said, and indeed that was what he had come to ask her to do, and with
her nice cool hands she tied his tie for him, while the children stood
around to see their fate decided. Some men would have resented her
being able to do it so easily, but Mr.\ Darling had far too fine
a nature for that; he thanked her carelessly, at once forgot his rage,
and in another moment was dancing round the room with Michael on his
back.

{}``How wildly we romped!''\ says Mrs.\ Darling now, recalling
it.

{}``Our last romp!''\ Mr.\ Darling groaned.

{}``O George, do you remember Michael suddenly said to me, `How did
you get to know me, mother?'''

{}``I remember!''\ 

{}``They were rather sweet, don't you think, George?''\ 

{}``And they were ours, ours! and now they are gone.''

The romp had ended with the appearance of Nana, and most unluckily
Mr.\ Darling collided against her, covering his trousers with hairs.
They were not only new trousers, but they were the first he had ever
had with braid on them, and he had had to bite his lip to prevent
the tears coming. Of course Mrs.\ Darling brushed him, but he began
to talk again about its being a mistake to have a dog for a nurse.

{}``George, Nana is a treasure.''

{}``No doubt, but I have an uneasy feeling at times that she looks
upon the children as puppies.''

{}``Oh no, dear one, I feel sure she knows they have souls.''

{}``I wonder,'' Mr.\ Darling said thoughtfully, {}``I wonder.''
It was an opportunity, his wife felt, for telling him about the boy.
At first he pooh-poohed the story, but he became thoughtful when she
showed him the shadow.

{}``It is nobody I know,'' he said, examining it carefully, {}``but
it does look a scoundrel.''

{}``We were still discussing it, you remember,'' says Mr.\ Darling,
{}``when Nana came in with Michael's medicine. You will never carry
the bottle in your mouth again, Nana, and it is all my fault.''

Strong man though he was, there is no doubt that he had behaved rather
foolishly over the medicine. If he had a weakness, it was for thinking
that all his life he had taken medicine boldly, and so now, when Michael
dodged the spoon in Nana's mouth, he had said reprovingly, {}``Be
a man, Michael.''

{}``Won't; won't!''\ Michael cried naughtily. Mrs.\ Darling left
the room to get a chocolate for him, and Mr.\ Darling thought this
showed want of firmness.

{}``Mother, don't pamper him,'' he called after her. {}``Michael,
when I was your age I took medicine without a murmur. I said, `Thank
you, kind parents, for giving me bottles to make we well.'''

He really thought this was true, and Wendy, who was now in her night-gown,
believed it also, and she said, to encourage Michael, {}``That medicine
you sometimes take, father, is much nastier, isn't it?''\ 

{}``Ever so much nastier,'' Mr.\ Darling said bravely, {}``and
I would take it now as an example to you, Michael, if I hadn't lost
the bottle.''

He had not exactly lost it; he had climbed in the dead of night to
the top of the wardrobe and hidden it there. What he did not know
was that the faithful Liza had found it, and put it back on his wash-stand.

{}``I know where it is, father,'' Wendy cried, always glad to be
of service. {}``I'll bring it,'' and she was off before he could
stop her. Immediately his spirits sank in the strangest way.

{}``John,'' he said, shuddering, {}``it's most beastly stuff. It's
that nasty, sticky, sweet kind.''

{}``It will soon be over, father,'' John said cheerily, and then
in rushed Wendy with the medicine in a glass.

{}``I have been as quick as I could,'' she panted.

{}``You have been wonderfully quick,'' her father retorted, with
a vindictive politeness that was quite thrown away upon her. {}``Michael
first,'' he said doggedly.

{}``Father first,'' said Michael, who was of a suspicious nature.

{}``I shall be sick, you know,'' Mr.\ Darling said threateningly.

{}``Come on, father,'' said John.

{}``Hold your tongue, John,'' his father rapped out.

Wendy was quite puzzled. {}``I thought you took it quite easily,
father.''

{}``That is not the point,'' he retorted. {}``The point is, that
there is more in my glass that in Michael's spoon.'' His proud heart
was nearly bursting. {}``And it isn't fair: I would say it though
it were with my last breath; it isn't fair.''

{}``Father, I am waiting,'' said Michael coldly.

{}``It's all very well to say you are waiting; so am I waiting.''

{}``Father's a cowardly custard.''

{}``So are you a cowardly custard.''

{}``I'm not frightened.''

{}``Neither am I frightened.''

{}``Well, then, take it.''

{}``Well, then, you take it.''

Wendy had a splendid idea. {}``Why not both take it at the same time?''\ 

{}``Certainly,'' said Mr.\ Darling. {}``Are you ready, Michael?''\ 

Wendy gave the words, one, two, three, and Michael took his medicine,
but Mr.\ Darling slipped his behind his back.

There was a yell of rage from Michael, and {}``O father!''\ Wendy
exclaimed.

{}``What do you mean by `O father'?''\ Mr.\ Darling demanded.
{}``Stop that row, Michael. I meant to take mine, but I\mbox{---}I
missed it.''

It was dreadful the way all the three were looking at him, just as
if they did not admire him. {}``Look here, all of you,'' he said
entreatingly, as soon as Nana had gone into the bathroom. {}``I have
just thought of a splendid joke. I shall pour my medicine into Nana's
bowl, and she will drink it, thinking it is milk!''\ 

It was the colour of milk; but the children did not have their father's
sense of humour, and they looked at him reproachfully as he poured
the medicine into Nana's bowl. {}``What fun!''\ he said doubtfully,
and they did not dare expose him when Mrs.\ Darling and Nana returned.

{}``Nana, good dog,'' he said, patting her, {}``I have put a little
milk into your bowl, Nana.''

Nana wagged her tail, ran to the medicine, and began lapping it. Then
she gave Mr.\ Darling such a look, not an angry look: she showed
him the great red tear that makes us so sorry for noble dogs, and
crept into her kennel.

Mr.\ Darling was frightfully ashamed of himself, but he would not
give in. In a horrid silence Mrs.\ Darling smelt the bowl. {}``O
George,'' she said, {}``it's your medicine!''\ 

{}``It was only a joke,'' he roared, while she comforted her boys,
and Wendy hugged Nana. {}``Much good,'' he said bitterly, {}``my
wearing myself to the bone trying to be funny in this house.''

And still Wendy hugged Nana. {}``That's right,'' he shouted. {}``Coddle
her! Nobody coddles me. Oh dear no! I am only the breadwinner, why
should I be coddled\mbox{---}why, why, why!''\ 

{}``George,'' Mrs.\ Darling entreated him, {}``not so loud; the
servants will hear you.'' Somehow they had got into the way of calling
Liza the servants.

{}``Let them!''\ he answered recklessly. {}``Bring in the whole
world. But I refuse to allow that dog to lord it in my nursery for
an hour longer.''

The children wept, and Nana ran to him beseechingly, but he waved
her back. He felt he was a strong man again. {}``In vain, in vain,''
he cried; {}``the proper place for you is the yard, and there you
go to be tied up this instant.''

{}``George, George,'' Mrs.\ Darling whispered, {}``remember what
I told you about that boy.''

Alas, he would not listen. He was determined to show who was master
in that house, and when commands would not draw Nana from the kennel,
he lured her out of it with honeyed words, and seizing her roughly,
dragged her from the nursery. He was ashamed of himself, and yet he
did it. It was all owing to his too affectionate nature, which craved
for admiration. When he had tied her up in the back-yard, the wretched
father went and sat in the passage, with his knuckles to his eyes.

In the meantime Mrs.\ Darling had put the children to bed in unwonted
silence and lit their night-lights. They could hear Nana barking,
and John whimpered, {}``It is because he is chaining her up in the
yard,'' but Wendy was wiser.

{}``That is not Nana's unhappy bark,'' she said, little guessing
what was about to happen; {}``that is her bark when she smells danger.''

Danger!

{}``Are you sure, Wendy?''\ 

{}``Oh, yes.''

Mrs.\ Darling quivered and went to the window. It was securely fastened.
She looked out, and the night was peppered with stars. They were crowding
round the house, as if curious to see what was to take place there,
but she did not notice this, nor that one or two of the smaller ones
winked at her. Yet a nameless fear clutched at her heart and made
her cry, {}``Oh, how I wish that I wasn't going to a party to-night!''\ 

Even Michael, already half asleep, knew that she was perturbed, and
he asked, {}``Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights
are lit?''\ 

{}``Nothing, precious,'' she said; {}``they are the eyes a mother
leaves behind her to guard her children.''

She went from bed to bed singing enchantments over them, and little
Michael flung his arms round her. {}``Mother,'' he cried, {}``I'm
glad of you.'' They were the last words she was to hear from him
for a long time.

No.\ 27 was only a few yards distant, but there had been a slight
fall of snow, and Father and Mother Darling picked their way over
it deftly not to soil their shoes. They were already the only persons
in the street, and all the stars were watching them. Stars are beautiful,
but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look
on for ever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did
so long ago that no star now knows what it was. So the older ones
have become glassy-eyed and seldom speak (winking is the star language),
but the little ones still wonder. They are not really friendly to
Peter, who had a mischievous way of stealing up behind them and trying
to blow them out; but they are so fond of fun that they were on his
side to-night, and anxious to get the grown-ups out of the way. So
as soon as the door of 27 closed on Mr.\ and Mrs.\ Darling there
was a commotion in the firmament, and the smallest of all the stars
in the Milky Way screamed out:

{}``Now, Peter!''\ 


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 3. \textit{\emph{Come}} \textit{\emph{Away}}\emph{,}
\textit{\emph{Come}} \textit{\emph{Away}}!}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 3. \textit{\emph{Come}} \textit{\emph{Away}}\emph{,}
\textit{\emph{Come}} \textit{\emph{Away}}!}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 3}

For a moment after Mr.\ and Mrs.\ Darling left the house the night-lights
by the beds of the three children continued to burn clearly. They
were awfully nice little night-lights, and one cannot help wishing
that they could have kept awake to see Peter; but Wendy's light blinked
and gave such a yawn that the other two yawned also, and before they
could close their mouths all the three went out.

There was another light in the room now, a thousand times brighter
than the night-lights, and in the time we have taken to say this,
it had been in all the drawers in the nursery, looking for Peter's
shadow, rummaged the wardrobe and turned every pocket inside out.
It was not really a light; it made this light by flashing about so
quickly, but when it came to rest for a second you saw it was a fairy,
no longer than your hand, but still growing. It was a girl called
Tinker Bell exquisitely gowned in a skeleton leaf, cut low and square,
through which her figure could be seen to the best advantage. She
was slightly inclined to \textit{embonpoint}.

A moment after the fairy's entrance the window was blown open by the
breathing of the little stars, and Peter dropped in. He had carried
Tinker Bell part of the way, and his hand was still messy with the
fairy dust.

{}``Tinker Bell,'' he called softly, after making sure that the
children were asleep, {}``Tink, where are you?''\ She was in a
jug for the moment, and liking it extremely; she had never been in
a jug before.

{}``Oh, do come out of that jug, and tell me, do you know where they
put my shadow?''\ 

The loveliest tinkle as of golden bells answered him. It is the fairy
language. You ordinary children can never hear it, but if you were
to hear it you would know that you had heard it once before.

Tink said that the shadow was in the big box. She meant the chest
of drawers, and Peter jumped at the drawers, scattering their contents
to the floor with both hands, as kings toss ha'pence to the crowd.
In a moment he had recovered his shadow, and in his delight he forgot
that he had shut Tinker Bell up in the drawer.

If he thought at all, but I don't believe he ever thought, it was
that he and his shadow, when brought near each other, would join like
drops of water, and when they did not he was appalled. He tried to
stick it on with soap from the bathroom, but that also failed. A shudder
passed through Peter, and he sat on the floor and cried.

His sobs woke Wendy, and she sat up in bed. She was not alarmed to
see a stranger crying on the nursery floor; she was only pleasantly
interested.

{}``Boy,'' she said courteously, {}``why are you crying?''\ 

Peter could be exceeding polite also, having learned the grand manner
at fairy ceremonies, and he rose and bowed to her beautifully. She
was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the bed.

{}``What's your name?''\ he asked.

{}``Wendy Moira Angela Darling,'' she replied with some satisfaction.
{}``What is your name?''\ 

{}``Peter Pan.''

She was already sure that he must be Peter, but it did seem a comparatively
short name.

{}``Is that all?''\ 

{}``Yes,'' he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that
it was a shortish name.

{}``I'm so sorry,'' said Wendy Moira Angela.

{}``It doesn't matter,'' Peter gulped.

She asked where he lived.

{}``Second to the right,'' said Peter, {}``and then straight on
till morning.''

{}``What a funny address!''\ 

Peter had a sinking. For the first time he felt that perhaps it was
a funny address.

{}``No, it isn't,'' he said.

{}``I mean,'' Wendy said nicely, remembering that she was hostess,
{}``is that what they put on the letters?''\ 

He wished she had not mentioned letters.

{}``Don't get any letters,'' he said contemptuously.

{}``But your mother gets letters?''\ 

{}``Don't have a mother,'' he said. Not only had he no mother, but
he had not the slightest desire to have one. He thought them very
over-rated persons. Wendy, however, felt at once that she was in the
presence of a tragedy.

{}``O Peter, no wonder you were crying,'' she said, and got out
of bed and ran to him.

{}``I wasn't crying about mothers,'' he said rather indignantly.
{}``I was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick on. Besides,
I wasn't crying.''

{}``It has come off?''\ 

{}``Yes.''

Then Wendy saw the shadow on the floor, looking so draggled, and she
was frightfully sorry for Peter. {}``How awful!''\ she said, but
she could not help smiling when she saw that he had been trying to
stick it on with soap. How exactly like a boy!

Fortunately she knew at once what to do. {}``It must be sewn on,''
she said, just a little patronisingly.

{}``What's sewn?''\ he asked.

{}``You're dreadfully ignorant.''

{}``No, I'm not.''

But she was exulting in his ignorance. {}``I shall sew it on for
you, my little man,'' she said, though he was tall as herself, and
she got out her housewife, and sewed the shadow on to Peter's foot.

{}``I daresay it will hurt a little,'' she warned him.

{}``Oh, I shan't cry,'' said Peter, who was already of the opinion
that he had never cried in his life. And he clenched his teeth and
did not cry, and soon his shadow was behaving properly, though still
a little creased.

{}``Perhaps I should have ironed it,'' Wendy said thoughtfully,
but Peter, boylike, was indifferent to appearances, and he was now
jumping about in the wildest glee. Alas, he had already forgotten
that he owed his bliss to Wendy. He thought he had attached the shadow
himself. {}``How clever I am!''\ he crowed rapturously, {}``oh,
the cleverness of me!''\ 

It is humiliating to have to confess that this conceit of Peter was
one of his most fascinating qualities. To put it with brutal frankness,
there never was a cockier boy.

But for the moment Wendy was shocked. {}``You conceit,'' she exclaimed,
with frightful sarcasm; {}``of course I did nothing!''\ 

{}``You did a little,'' Peter said carelessly, and continued to
dance.

{}``A little!''\ she replied with hauteur; {}``if I am no use
I can at least withdraw,'' and she sprang in the most dignified way
into bed and covered her face with the blankets.

To induce her to look up he pretended to be going away, and when this
failed he sat on the end of the bed and tapped her gently with his
foot. {}``Wendy,'' he said, {}``don't withdraw. I can't help crowing,
Wendy, when I'm pleased with myself.'' Still she would not look up,
though she was listening eagerly. {}``Wendy,'' he continued, in
a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, {}``Wendy,
one girl is more use than twenty boys.''

Now Wendy was every inch a woman, though there were not very many
inches, and she peeped out of the bed-clothes.

{}``Do you really think so, Peter?''\ 

{}``Yes, I do.''

{}``I think it's perfectly sweet of you,'' she declared, {}``and
I'll get up again,'' and she sat with him on the side of the bed.
She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter did
not know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly.

{}``Surely you know what a kiss is?''\ she asked, aghast.

{}``I shall know when you give it to me,'' he replied stiffly, and
not to hurt his feeling she gave him a thimble.

{}``Now,'' said he, {}``shall I give you a kiss?''\ and she replied
with a slight primness, {}``If you please.'' She made herself rather
cheap by inclining her face toward him, but he merely dropped an acorn
button into her hand, so she slowly returned her face to where it
had been before, and said nicely that she would wear his kiss on the
chain around her neck. It was lucky that she did put it on that chain,
for it was afterwards to save her life.

When people in our set are introduced, it is customary for them to
ask each other's age, and so Wendy, who always liked to do the correct
thing, asked Peter how old he was. It was not really a happy question
to ask him; it was like an examination paper that asks grammar, when
what you want to be asked is Kings of England.

{}``I don't know,'' he replied uneasily, {}``but I am quite young.''
He really knew nothing about it, he had merely suspicions, but he
said at a venture, {}``Wendy, I ran away the day I was born.''

Wendy was quite surprised, but interested; and she indicated in the
charming drawing-room manner, by a touch on her night-gown, that he
could sit nearer her.

{}``It was because I heard father and mother,'' he explained in
a low voice, {}``talking about what I was to be when I became a man.''
He was extraordinarily agitated now. {}``I don't want ever to be
a man,'' he said with passion. {}``I want always to be a little
boy and to have fun. So I ran away to Kensington Gardens and lived
a long long time among the fairies.''

She gave him a look of the most intense admiration, and he thought
it was because he had run away, but it was really because he knew
fairies. Wendy had lived such a home life that to know fairies struck
her as quite delightful. She poured out questions about them, to his
surprise, for they were rather a nuisance to him, getting in his way
and so on, and indeed he sometimes had to give them a hiding. Still,
he liked them on the whole, and he told her about the beginning of
fairies.

{}``You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time,
its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping
about, and that was the beginning of fairies.''

Tedious talk this, but being a stay-at-home she liked it.

{}``And so,'' he went on good-naturedly, {}``there ought to be
one fairy for every boy and girl.''

{}``Ought to be? Isn't there?''\ 

{}``No. You see children know such a lot now, they soon don't believe
in fairies, and every time a child says, `I don't believe in fairies,'
there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead.''

Really, he thought they had now talked enough about fairies, and it
struck him that Tinker Bell was keeping very quiet. {}``I can't think
where she has gone to,'' he said, rising, and he called Tink by name.
Wendy's heart went flutter with a sudden thrill.

{}``Peter,'' she cried, clutching him, {}``you don't mean to tell
me that there is a fairy in this room!''\ 

{}``She was here just now,'' he said a little impatiently. {}``You
don't hear her, do you?''\ and they both listened.

{}``The only sound I hear,'' said Wendy, {}``is like a tinkle of
bells.''

{}``Well, that's Tink, that's the fairy language. I think I hear
her too.''

The sound come from the chest of drawers, and Peter made a merry face.
No one could ever look quite so merry as Peter, and the loveliest
of gurgles was his laugh. He had his first laugh still.

{}``Wendy,'' he whispered gleefully, {}``I do believe I shut her
up in the drawer!''\ 

He let poor Tink out of the drawer, and she flew about the nursery
screaming with fury. {}``You shouldn't say such things,'' Peter
retorted. {}``Of course I'm very sorry, but how could I know you
were in the drawer?''\ 

Wendy was not listening to him. {}``O Peter,'' she cried, {}``if
she would only stand still and let me see her!''\ 

{}``They hardly ever stand still,'' he said, but for one moment
Wendy saw the romantic figure come to rest on the cuckoo clock. {}``O
the lovely!''\ she cried, though Tink's face was still distorted
with passion.

{}``Tink,'' said Peter amiably, {}``this lady says she wishes you
were her fairy.''

Tinker Bell answered insolently.

{}``What does she say, Peter?''\ 

He had to translate. {}``She is not very polite. She says you are
a great ugly girl, and that she is my fairy.''

He tried to argue with Tink. {}``You know you can't be my fairy,
Tink, because I am an gentleman and you are a lady.''

To this Tink replied in these words, {}``You silly ass,'' and disappeared
into the bathroom. {}``She is quite a common fairy,'' Peter explained
apologetically, {}``she is called Tinker Bell because she mends the
pots and kettles.'' 

They were together in the armchair by this time, and Wendy plied him
with more questions.

{}``If you don't live in Kensington Gardens now\mbox{---}''

{}``Sometimes I do still.''

{}``But where do you live mostly now?''\ 

{}``With the lost boys.''

{}``Who are they?''\ 

{}``They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when
the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven
days they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expenses. I'm
captain.''

{}``What fun it must be!''\ 

{}``Yes,'' said cunning Peter, {}``but we are rather lonely. You
see we have no female companionship.''

{}``Are none of the others girls?''\ 

{}``Oh, no; girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their
prams.''

This flattered Wendy immensely. {}``I think,'' she said, {}``it
is perfectly lovely the way you talk about girls; John there just
despises us.''

For reply Peter rose and kicked John out of bed, blankets and all;
one kick. This seemed to Wendy rather forward for a first meeting,
and she told him with spirit that he was not captain in her house.
However, John continued to sleep so placidly on the floor that she
allowed him to remain there. {}``And I know you meant to be kind,''
she said, relenting, {}``so you may give me a kiss.''

For the moment she had forgotten his ignorance about kisses. {}``I
thought you would want it back,'' he said a little bitterly, and
offered to return her the thimble.

{}``Oh dear,'' said the nice Wendy, {}``I don't mean a kiss, I
mean a thimble.''

{}``What's that?''\ 

{}``It's like this.'' She kissed him.

{}``Funny!''\ said Peter gravely. {}``Now shall I give you a thimble?''\ 

{}``If you wish to,'' said Wendy, keeping her head erect this time.

Peter thimbled her, and almost immediately she screeched. {}``What
is it, Wendy?''\ 

{}``It was exactly as if someone were pulling my hair.''

{}``That must have been Tink. I never knew her so naughty before.''

And indeed Tink was darting about again, using offensive language.

{}``She says she will do that to you, Wendy, every time I give you
a thimble.''

{}``But why?''\ 

{}``Why, Tink?''\ 

Again Tink replied, {}``You silly ass.'' Peter could not understand
why, but Wendy understood, and she was just slightly disappointed
when he admitted that he came to the nursery window not to see her
but to listen to stories.

{}``You see, I don't know any stories. None of the lost boys knows
any stories.''

{}``How perfectly awful,'' Wendy said.

{}``Do you know,'' Peter asked {}``why swallows build in the eaves
of houses? It is to listen to the stories. O Wendy, your mother was
telling you such a lovely story.''

{}``Which story was it?''\ 

{}``About the prince who couldn't find the lady who wore the glass
slipper.''

{}``Peter,'' said Wendy excitedly, {}``that was Cinderella, and
he found her, and they lived happily ever after.''

Peter was so glad that he rose from the floor, where they had been
sitting, and hurried to the window.

{}``Where are you going?''\ she cried with misgiving.

{}``To tell the other boys.''

{}``Don't go Peter,'' she entreated, {}``I know such lots of stories.''

Those were her precise words, so there can be no denying that it was
she who first tempted him.

He came back, and there was a greedy look in his eyes now which ought
to have alarmed her, but did not.

{}``Oh, the stories I could tell to the boys!''\ she cried, and
then Peter gripped her and began to draw her toward the window.

{}``Let me go!''\ she ordered him.

{}``Wendy, do come with me and tell the other boys.''

Of course she was very pleased to be asked, but she said, {}``Oh
dear, I can't. Think of mummy! Besides, I can't fly.''

{}``I'll teach you.''

{}``Oh, how lovely to fly.''

{}``I'll teach you how to jump on the wind's back, and then away
we go.''

{}``Oo!''\ she exclaimed rapturously.

{}``Wendy, Wendy, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you might
be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars.''

{}``Oo!''\ 

{}``And, Wendy, there are mermaids.''

{}``Mermaids! With tails?''\ 

{}``Such long tails.''

{}``Oh,'' cried Wendy, {}``to see a mermaid!''\ 

He had become frightfully cunning. {}``Wendy,'' he said, {}``how
we should all respect you.''

She was wriggling her body in distress. It was quite as if she were
trying to remain on the nursery floor.

But he had no pity for her.

{}``Wendy,'' he said, the sly one, {}``you could tuck us in at
night.''

{}``Oo!''\ 

{}``None of us has ever been tucked in at night.''

{}``Oo,'' and her arms went out to him.

{}``And you could darn our clothes, and make pockets for us. None
of us has any pockets.''

How could she resist. {}``Of course it's awfully fascinating!''\ 
she cried. {}``Peter, would you teach John and Michael to fly too?''\ 

{}``If you like,'' he said indifferently, and she ran to John and
Michael and shook them. {}``Wake up,'' she cried, {}``Peter Pan
has come and he is to teach us to fly.''

John rubbed his eyes. {}``Then I shall get up,'' he said. Of course
he was on the floor already. {}``Hallo,'' he said, {}``I am up!''\ 

Michael was up by this time also, looking as sharp as a knife with
six blades and a saw, but Peter suddenly signed silence. Their faces
assumed the awful craftiness of children listening for sounds from
the grown-up world. All was as still as salt. Then everything was
right. No, stop! Everything was wrong. Nana, who had been barking
distressfully all the evening, was quiet now. It was her silence they
had heard.

{}``Out with the light! Hide! Quick!''\ cried John, taking command
for the only time throughout the whole adventure. And thus when Liza
entered, holding Nana, the nursery seemed quite its old self, very
dark, and you would have sworn you heard its three wicked inmates
breathing angelically as they slept. They were really doing it artfully
from behind the window curtains.

Liza was in a bad tamper, for she was mixing the Christmas puddings
in the kitchen, and had been drawn from them, with a raisin still
on her cheek, by Nana's absurd suspicions. She thought the best way
of getting a little quiet was to take Nana to the nursery for a moment,
but in custody of course.

{}``There, you suspicious brute,'' she said, not sorry that Nana
was in disgrace. {}``They are perfectly safe, aren't they? Every
one of the little angels sound asleep in bed. Listen to their gentle
breathing.''

Here Michael, encouraged by his success, breathed so loudly that they
were nearly detected. Nana knew that kind of breathing, and she tried
to drag herself out of Liza's clutches.

But Liza was dense. {}``No more of it, Nana,'' she said sternly,
pulling her out of the room. {}``I warn you if bark again I shall
go straight for master and missus and bring them home from the party,
and then, oh, won't master whip you, just.''

She tied the unhappy dog up again, but do you think Nana ceased to
bark? Bring master and missus home from the party! Why, that was just
what she wanted. Do you think she cared whether she was whipped so
long as her charges were safe? Unfortunately Liza returned to her
puddings, and Nana, seeing that no help would come from her, strained
and strained at the chain until at last she broke it. In another moment
she had burst into the dining-room of 27 and flung up her paws to
heaven, her most expressive way of making a communication. Mr.\ and
Mrs.\ Darling knew at once that something terrible was happening
in their nursery, and without a good-bye to their hostess they rushed
into the street.

But it was now ten minutes since three scoundrels had been breathing
behind the curtains, and Peter Pan can do a great deal in ten minutes.

We now return to the nursery.

{}``It's all right,'' John announced, emerging from his hiding-place.
{}``I say, Peter, can you really fly?''\ 

Instead of troubling to answer him Peter flew around the room, taking
the mantelpiece on the way.

{}``How topping!''\ said John and Michael.

{}``How sweet!''\ cried Wendy.

{}``Yes, I'm sweet, oh, I am sweet!''\ said Peter, forgetting his
manners again.

It looked delightfully easy, and they tried it first from the floor
and then from the beds, but they always went down instead of up.

{}``I say, how do you do it?''\ asked John, rubbing his knee. He
was quite a practical boy.

{}``You just think lovely wonderful thoughts,'' Peter explained,
{}``and they lift you up in the air.''

He showed them again.

{}``You're so nippy at it,'' John said, {}``couldn't you do it
very slowly once?''\ 

Peter did it both slowly and quickly. {}``I've got it now, Wendy!''\ 
cried John, but soon he found he had not. Not one of them could fly
an inch, though even Michael was in words of two syllables, and Peter
did not know A from Z.

Of course Peter had been trifling with them, for no one can fly unless
the fairy dust has been blown on him. Fortunately, as we have mentioned,
one of his hands was messy with it, and he blew some on each of them,
with the most superb results.

{}``Now just wiggle your shoulders this way,'' he said, {}``and
let go.''

They were all on their beds, and gallant Michael let go first. He
did not quite mean to let go, but he did it, and immediately he was
borne across the room.

{}``I flewed!''\ he screamed while still in mid-air.

John let go and met Wendy near the bathroom.

{}``Oh, lovely!''\ 

{}``Oh, ripping!''\ 

{}``Look at me!''\ 

{}``Look at me!''\ 

{}``Look at me!''\ 

They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking
a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling, and there
is almost nothing so delicious as that. Peter gave Wendy a hand at
first, but had to desist, Tink was so indignant.

Up and down they went, and round and round. Heavenly was Wendy's word.

{}``I say,'' cried John, {}``why shouldn't we all go out?''\ 

Of course it was to this that Peter had been luring them.

Michael was ready: he wanted to see how long it took him to do a billion
miles. But Wendy hesitated.

{}``Mermaids!''\ said Peter again.

{}``Oo!''\ 

{}``And there are pirates.''

{}``Pirates,'' cried John, seizing his Sunday hat, {}``let us go
at once.''

It was just at this moment that Mr.\ and Mrs.\ Darling hurried with
Nana out of 27. They ran into the middle of the street to look up
at the nursery window; and, yes, it was still shut, but the room was
ablaze with light, and most heart-gripping sight of all, they could
see in shadow on the curtain three little figures in night attire
circling round and round, not on the floor but in the air.

Not three figures, four!

In a tremble they opened the street door. Mr.\ Darling would have
rushed upstairs, but Mrs.\ Darling signed him to go softly. She even
tried to make her heart go softly.

Will they reach the nursery in time? If so, how delightful for them,
and we shall all breathe a sigh of relief, but there will be no story.
On the other hand, if they are not in time, I solemnly promise that
it will all come right in the end.

They would have reached the nursery in time had it not been that the
little stars were watching them. Once again the stars blew the window
open, and that smallest star of all called out:

{}``Cave, Peter!''\ 

Then Peter knew that there was not a moment to lose. {}``Come,''
he cried imperiously, and soared out at once into the night, followed
by John and Michael and Wendy.

Mr.\ and Mrs.\ Darling and Nana rushed into the nursery too late.
The birds were flown.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 4. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Flight}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 4. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Flight}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 4}

{}``Second to the right, and straight on till morning.''

That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to the Neverland; but even
birds, carrying maps and consulting them at windy corners, could not
have sighted it with these instructions. Peter, you see, just said
anything that came into his head.

At first his companions trusted him implicitly, and so great were
the delights of flying that they wasted time circling round church
spires or any other tall objects on the way that took their fancy.

John and Michael raced, Michael getting a start.

They recalled with contempt that not so long ago they had thought
themselves fine fellows for being able to fly round a room.

Not long ago. But how long ago? They were flying over the sea before
this thought began to disturb Wendy seriously. John thought it was
their second sea and their third night.

Sometimes it was dark and sometimes light, and now they were very
cold and again too warm. Did they really feel hungry at times, or
were they merely pretending, because Peter had such a jolly new way
of feeding them? His way was to pursue birds who had food in their
mouths suitable for humans and snatch it from them; then the birds
would follow and snatch it back; and they would all go chasing each
other gaily for miles, parting at last with mutual expressions of
good-will. But Wendy noticed with gentle concern that Peter did not
seem to know that this was rather an odd way of getting your bread
and butter, nor even that there are other ways.

Certainly they did not pretend to be sleepy, they were sleepy; and
that was a danger, for the moment they popped off, down they fell.
The awful thing was that Peter thought this funny.

{}``There he goes again!''\ he would cry gleefully, as Michael
suddenly dropped like a stone.

{}``Save him, save him!''\ cried Wendy, looking with horror at
the cruel sea far below. Eventually Peter would dive through the air,
and catch Michael just before he could strike the sea, and it was
lovely the way he did it; but he always waited till the last moment,
and you felt it was his cleverness that interested him and not the
saving of human life. Also he was fond of variety, and the sport that
engrossed him one moment would suddenly cease to engage him, so there
was always the possibility that the next time you fell he would let
you go.

He could sleep in the air without falling, by merely lying on his
back and floating, but this was, partly at least, because he was so
light that if you got behind him and blew he went faster.

{}``Do be more polite to him,'' Wendy whispered to John, when they
were playing {}``Follow my Leader.''

{}``Then tell him to stop showing off,'' said John.

When playing Follow my Leader, Peter would fly close to the water
and touch each shark's tail in passing, just as in the street you
may run your finger along an iron railing. They could not follow him
in this with much success, so perhaps it was rather like showing off,
especially as he kept looking behind to see how many tails they missed.

{}``You must be nice to him,'' Wendy impressed on her brothers.
{}``What could we do if he were to leave us!''\ 

{}``We could go back,'' Michael said.

{}``How could we ever find our way back without him?''\ 

{}``Well, then, we could go on,'' said John.

{}``That is the awful thing, John. We should have to go on, for we
don't know how to stop.''

This was true, Peter had forgotten to show them how to stop.

John said that if the worst came to the worst, all they had to do
was to go straight on, for the world was round, and so in time they
must come back to their own window.

{}``And who is to get food for us, John?''\ 

{}``I nipped a bit out of that eagle's mouth pretty neatly, Wendy.''

{}``After the twentieth try,'' Wendy reminded him. {}``And even
though we became good a picking up food, see how we bump against clouds
and things if he is not near to give us a hand.''

Indeed they were constantly bumping. They could now fly strongly,
though they still kicked far too much; but if they saw a cloud in
front of them, the more they tried to avoid it, the more certainly
did they bump into it. If Nana had been with them, she would have
had a bandage round Michael's forehead by this time.

Peter was not with them for the moment, and they felt rather lonely
up there by themselves. He could go so much faster than they that
he would suddenly shoot out of sight, to have some adventure in which
they had no share. He would come down laughing over something fearfully
funny he had been saying to a star, but he had already forgotten what
it was, or he would come up with mermaid scales still sticking to
him, and yet not be able to say for certain what had been happening.
It was really rather irritating to children who had never seen a mermaid.

{}``And if he forgets them so quickly,'' Wendy argued, {}``how
can we expect that he will go on remembering us?''\ 

Indeed, sometimes when he returned he did not remember them, at least
not well. Wendy was sure of it. She saw recognition come into his
eyes as he was about to pass them the time of day and go on; once
even she had to call him by name.

{}``I'm Wendy,'' she said agitatedly.

He was very sorry. {}``I say, Wendy,'' he whispered to her, {}``always
if you see me forgetting you, just keep on saying `I'm Wendy,' and
then I'll remember.''

Of course this was rather unsatisfactory. However, to make amends
he showed them how to lie out flat on a strong wind that was going
their way, and this was such a pleasant change that they tried it
several times and found that they could sleep thus with security.
Indeed they would have slept longer, but Peter tired quickly of sleeping,
and soon he would cry in his captain voice, {}``We get off here.''
So with occasional tiffs, but on the whole rollicking, they drew near
the Neverland; for after many moons they did reach it, and, what is
more, they had been going pretty straight all the time, not perhaps
so much owing to the guidance of Peter or Tink as because the island
was looking for them. It is only thus that any one may sight those
magic shores.

{}``There it is,'' said Peter calmly.

{}``Where, where?''\ 

{}``Where all the arrows are pointing.''

Indeed a million golden arrows were pointing it out to the children,
all directed by their friend the sun, who wanted them to be sure of
their way before leaving them for the night.

Wendy and John and Michael stood on tip-toe in the air to get their
first sight of the island. Strange to say, they all recognized it
at once, and until fear fell upon them they hailed it, not as something
long dreamt of and seen at last, but as a familiar friend to whom
they were returning home for the holidays.

{}``John, there's the lagoon.''

{}``Wendy, look at the turtles burying their eggs in the sand.''

{}``I say, John, I see your flamingo with the broken leg!''\ 

{}``Look, Michael, there's your cave!''\ 

{}``John, what's that in the brushwood?''\ 

{}``It's a wolf with her whelps. Wendy, I do believe that's your
little whelp!''\ 

{}``There's my boat, John, with her sides stove in!''\ 

{}``No, it isn't. Why, we burned your boat.''

{}``That's her, at any rate. I say, John, I see the smoke of the
redskin camp!''\ 

{}``Where? Show me, and I'll tell you by the way smoke curls whether
they are on the war-path.''

{}``There, just across the Mysterious River.''

{}``I see now. Yes, they are on the war-path right enough.''

Peter was a little annoyed with them for knowing so much, but if he
wanted to lord it over them his triumph was at hand, for have I not
told you that anon fear fell upon them?

It came as the arrows went, leaving the island in gloom.

In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little
dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in
it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the
beasts of prey was quite different now, and above all, you lost the
certainty that you would win. You were quite glad that the night-lights
were on. You even liked Nana to say that this was just the mantelpiece
over here, and that the Neverland was all make-believe.

Of course the Neverland had been make-believe in those days, but it
was real now, and there were no night-lights, and it was getting darker
every moment, and where was Nana?

They had been flying apart, but they huddled close to Peter now. His
careless manner had gone at last, his eyes were sparkling, and a tingle
went through them every time they touched his body. They were now
over the fearsome island, flying so low that sometimes a tree grazed
their feet. Nothing horrid was visible in the air, yet their progress
had become slow and laboured, exactly as if they were pushing their
way through hostile forces. Sometimes they hung in the air until Peter
had beaten on it with his fists.

{}``They don't want us to land,'' he explained.

{}``Who are they?''\ Wendy whispered, shuddering.

But he could not or would not say. Tinker Bell had been asleep on
his shoulder, but now he wakened her and sent her on in front.

Sometimes he poised himself in the air, listening intently, with his
hand to his ear, and again he would stare down with eyes so bright
that they seemed to bore two holes to earth. Having done these things,
he went on again.

His courage was almost appalling. {}``Would you like an adventure
now,'' he said casually to John, {}``or would you like to have your
tea first?''\ 

Wendy said {}``tea first'' quickly, and Michael pressed her hand
in gratitude, but the braver John hesitated.

{}``What kind of adventure?''\ he asked cautiously.

{}``There's a pirate asleep in the pampas just beneath us,'' Peter
told him. {}``If you like, we'll go down and kill him.''

{}``I don't see him,'' John said after a long pause.

{}``I do.''

{}``Suppose,'' John said, a little huskily, {}``he were to wake
up.''

Peter spoke indignantly. {}``You don't think I would kill him while
he was sleeping! I would wake him first, and then kill him. That's
the way I always do.''

{}``I say! Do you kill many?''\ 

{}``Tons.''

John said {}``How ripping,'' but decided to have tea first. He asked
if there were many pirates on the island just now, and Peter said
he had never known so many.

{}``Who is captain now?''\ 

{}``Hook,'' answered Peter, and his face became very stern as he
said that hated word.

{}``Jas.\ Hook?''\ 

{}``Ay.''

Then indeed Michael began to cry, and even John could speak in gulps
only, for they knew Hook's reputation.

{}``He was Blackbeard's bo'sun,'' John whispered huskily. {}``He
is the worst of them all. He is the only man of whom Barbecue was
afraid.''

{}``That's him,'' said Peter.

{}``What is he like? Is he big?''\ 

{}``He is not so big as he was.''

{}``How do you mean?''\ 

{}``I cut off a bit of him.''

{}``You!''\ 

{}``Yes, me,'' said Peter sharply.

{}``I wasn't meaning to be disrespectful.''

{}``Oh, all right.''

{}``But, I say, what bit?''\ 

{}``His right hand.''

{}``Then he can't fight now?''\ 

{}``Oh, can't he just!''\ 

{}``Left-hander?''\ 

{}``He has an iron hook instead of a right hand, and he claws with
it.''

{}``Claws!''\ 

{}``I say, John,'' said Peter.

{}``Yes.''

{}``Say, `Ay, ay, sir.'''

{}``Ay, ay, sir.''

{}``There is one thing,'' Peter continued, {}``that every boy who
serves under me has to promise, and so must you.''

John paled.

{}``It is this, if we meet Hook in open fight, you must leave him
to me.''

{}``I promise,'' John said loyally.

For the moment they were feeling less eerie, because Tink was flying
with them, and in her light they could distinguish each other. Unfortunately
she could not fly so slowly as they, and so she had to go round and
round them in a circle in which they moved as in a halo. Wendy quite
liked it, until Peter pointed out the drawbacks.

{}``She tells me,'' he said, {}``that the pirates sighted us before
the darkness came, and got Long Tom out.''

{}``The big gun?''\ 

{}``Yes. And of course they must see her light, and if they guess
we are near it they are sure to let fly.''

{}``Wendy!''\ 

{}``John!''\ 

{}``Michael!''\ 

{}``Tell her to go away at once, Peter,'' the three cried simultaneously,
but he refused.

{}``She thinks we have lost the way,'' he replied stiffly, {}``and
she is rather frightened. You don't think I would send her away all
by herself when she is frightened!''\ 

For a moment the circle of light was broken, and something gave Peter
a loving little pinch.

{}``Then tell her,'' Wendy begged, {}``to put out her light.''

{}``She can't put it out. That is about the only thing fairies can't
do. It just goes out of itself when she falls asleep, same as the
stars.''

{}``Then tell her to sleep at once,'' John almost ordered.

{}``She can't sleep except when she's sleepy. It is the only other
thing fairies can't do.''

{}``Seems to me,'' growled John, {}``these are the only two things
worth doing.''

Here he got a pinch, but not a loving one.

{}``If only one of us had a pocket,'' Peter said, {}``we could
carry her in it.'' However, they had set off in such a hurry that
there was not a pocket between the four of them.

He had a happy idea. John's hat!

Tink agreed to travel by hat if it was carried in the hand. John carried
it, though she had hoped to be carried by Peter. Presently Wendy took
the hat, because John said it struck against his knee as he flew;
and this, as we shall see, led to mischief, for Tinker Bell hated
to be under an obligation to Wendy.

In the black topper the light was completely hidden, and they flew
on in silence. It was the stillest silence they had ever known, broken
once by a distant lapping, which Peter explained was the wild beasts
drinking at the ford, and again by a rasping sound that might have
been the branches of trees rubbing together, but he said it was the
redskins sharpening their knives.

Even these noises ceased. To Michael the loneliness was dreadful.
{}``If only something would make a sound!''\ he cried.

As if in answer to his request, the air was rent by the most tremendous
crash he had ever heard. The pirates had fired Long Tom at them.

The roar of it echoed through the mountains, and the echoes seemed
to cry savagely, {}``Where are they, where are they, where are they?''\ 

Thus sharply did the terrified three learn the difference between
an island of make-believe and the same island come true.

When at last the heavens were steady again, John and Michael found
themselves alone in the darkness. John was treading the air mechanically,
and Michael without knowing how to float was floating.

{}``Are you shot?''\ John whispered tremulously.

{}``I haven't tried yet,'' Michael whispered back.

We know now that no one had been hit. Peter, however, had been carried
by the wind of the shot far out to sea, while Wendy was blown upwards
with no companion but Tinker Bell.

It would have been well for Wendy if at that moment she had dropped
the hat.

I don't know whether the idea came suddenly to Tink, or whether she
had planned it on the way, but she at once popped out of the hat and
began to lure Wendy to her destruction.

Tink was not all bad; or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on
the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have to be one
thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have
room for one feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to
change, only it must be a complete change. At present she was full
of jealousy of Wendy. What she said in her lovely tinkle Wendy could
not of course understand, and I believe some of it was bad words,
but it sounded kind, and she flew back and forward, plainly meaning
{}``Follow me, and all will be well.''

What else could poor Wendy do? She called to Peter and John and Michael,
and got only mocking echoes in reply. She did not yet know that Tink
hated her with the fierce hatred of a very woman. And so, bewildered,
and now staggering in her flight, she followed Tink to her doom.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 5. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Island}}
\textit{\emph{Come}} \textit{\emph{True}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 5. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Island}}
\textit{\emph{Come}} \textit{\emph{True}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 5}

Feeling that Peter was on his way back, the Neverland had again woke
into life. We ought to use the pluperfect and say wakened, but woke
is better and was always used by Peter.

In his absence things are usually quiet on the island. The fairies
take an hour longer in the morning, the beasts attend to their young,
the redskins feed heavily for six days and nights, and when pirates
and lost boys meet they merely bite their thumbs at each other. But
with the coming of Peter, who hates lethargy, they are under way again:
if you put your ear to the ground now, you would hear the whole island
seething with life.

On this evening the chief forces of the island were disposed as follows.
The lost boys were out looking for Peter, the pirates were out looking
for the lost boys, the redskins were out looking for the pirates,
and the beasts were out looking for the redskins. They were going
round and round the island, but they did not meet because all were
going at the same rate.

All wanted blood except the boys, who liked it as a rule, but to-night
were out to greet their captain. The boys on the island vary, of course,
in numbers, according as they get killed and so on; and when they
seem to be growing up, which is against the rules, Peter thins them
out; but at this time there were six of them, counting the twins as
two. Let us pretend to lie here among the sugar-cane and watch them
as they steal by in single file, each with his hand on his dagger.

They are forbidden by Peter to look in the least like him, and they
wear the skins of the bears slain by themselves, in which they are
so round and furry that when they fall they roll. They have therefore
become very sure-footed.

The first to pass is Tootles, not the least brave but the most unfortunate
of all that gallant band. He had been in fewer adventures than any
of them, because the big things constantly happened just when he had
stepped round the corner; all would be quiet, he would take the opportunity
of going off to gather a few sticks for firewood, and then when he
returned the others would be sweeping up the blood. This ill-luck
had given a gentle melancholy to his countenance, but instead of souring
his nature had sweetened it, so that he was quite the humblest of
the boys. Poor kind Tootles, there is danger in the air for you to-night.
Take care lest an adventure is now offered you, which, if accepted,
will plunge you in deepest woe. Tootles, the fairy Tink, who is bent
on mischief this night is looking for a tool, and she thinks you are
the most easily tricked of the boys. 'Ware Tinker Bell.

Would that he could hear us, but we are not really on the island,
and he passes by, biting his knuckles.

Next comes Nibs, the gay and debonair, followed by Slightly, who cuts
whistles out of the trees and dances ecstatically to his own tunes.
Slightly is the most conceited of the boys. He thinks he remembers
the days before he was lost, with their manners and customs, and this
has given his nose an offensive tilt. Curly is fourth; he is a pickle,
and so often has he had to deliver up his person when Peter said sternly,
{}``Stand forth the one who did this thing,'' that now at the command
he stands forth automatically whether he has done it or not. Last
come the Twins, who cannot be described because we should be sure
to be describing the wrong one. Peter never quite knew what twins
were, and his band were not allowed to know anything he did not know,
so these two were always vague about themselves, and did their best
to give satisfaction by keeping close together in an apologetic sort
of way.

The boys vanish in the gloom, and after a pause, but not a long pause,
for things go briskly on the island, come the pirates on their track.
We hear them before they are seen, and it is always the same dreadful
song:

\begin{flushleft} \begin{verse} \small

``Avast belay, yo ho, heave to, \\*

A-pirating we go, \\*

And if we're parted by a shot \\*

We're sure to meet below!''

\end{verse} \end{flushleft}

A more villainous-looking lot never hung in a row on Execution dock.
Here, a little in advance, ever and again with his head to the ground
listening, his great arms bare, pieces of eight in his ears as ornaments,
is the handsome Italian Cecco, who cut his name in letters of blood
on the back of the governor of the prison at Gao. That gigantic black
behind him has had many names since he dropped the one with which
dusky mothers still terrify their children on the banks of the Guadjo-mo.
Here is Bill Jukes, every inch of him tattooed, the same Bill Jukes
who got six dozen on the \textit{Walrus} from Flint before he would
drop the bag of moidores; and Cookson, said to be Black Murphy's brother
(but this was never proved), and Gentleman Starkey, once an usher
in a public school and still dainty in his ways of killing; and Skylights
(Morgan's Skylights); and the Irish bo'sun Smee, an oddly genial man
who stabbed, so to speak, without offence, and was the only Non-conformist
in Hook's crew; and Noodler, whose hands were fixed on backwards;
and Robt.\ Mullins and Alf Mason and many another ruffian long known
and feared on the Spanish Main.

In the midst of them, the blackest and largest in that dark setting,
reclined James Hook, or as he wrote himself, Jas.\ Hook, of whom
it is said he was the only man that the Sea-Cook feared. He lay at
his ease in a rough chariot drawn and propelled by his men, and instead
of a right hand he had the iron hook with which ever and anon he encouraged
them to increase their pace. As dogs this terrible man treated and
addressed them, and as dogs they obeyed him. In person he was cadaverous
and blackavized, and his hair was dressed in long curls, which at
a little distance looked like black candles, and gave a singularly
threatening expression to his handsome countenance. His eyes were
of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save
when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red spots
appeared in them and lit them up horribly. In manner, something of
the grand seigneur still clung to him, so that he even ripped you
up with an air, and I have been told that he was a \textit{raconteur}
of repute. He was never more sinister than when he was most polite,
which is probably the truest test of breeding; and the elegance of
his diction, even when he was swearing, no less than the distinction
of his demeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew.
A man of indomitable courage, it was said that the only thing he shied
at was the sight of his own blood, which was thick and of an unusual
colour. In dress he somewhat aped the attire associated with the name
of Charles II, having heard it said in some earlier period of his
career that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts;
and in his mouth he had a holder of his own contrivance which enabled
him to smoke two cigars at once. But undoubtedly the grimmest part
of him was his iron claw.

Let us now kill a pirate, to show Hook's method. Skylights will do.
As they pass, Skylights lurches clumsily against him, ruffling his
lace collar; the hook shoots forth, there is a tearing sound and one
screech, then the body is kicked aside, and the pirates pass on. He
has not even taken the cigars from his mouth.

Such is the terrible man against whom Peter Pan is pitted. Which will
win?

On the trail of the pirates, stealing noiselessly down the war-path,
which is not visible to inexperienced eyes, come the redskins, every
one of them with his eyes peeled. They carry tomahawks and knives,
and their naked bodies gleam with paint and oil. Strung around them
are scalps, of boys as well as of pirates, for these are the Piccaninny
tribe, and not to be confused with the softer-hearted Delawares or
the Hurons. In the van, on all fours, is Great Big Little Panther,
a brave of so many scalps that in his present position they somewhat
impede his progress. Bringing up the rear, the place of greatest danger,
comes Tiger Lily, proudly erect, a princess in her own right. She
is the most beautiful of dusky Dianas and the belle of the Piccaninnies,
coquettish, cold and amorous by turns; there is not a brave who would
not have the wayward thing to wife, but she staves off the altar with
a hatchet. Observe how they pass over fallen twigs without making
the slightest noise. The only sound to be heard is their somewhat
heavy breathing. The fact is that they are all a little fat just now
after the heavy gorging, but in time they will work this off. For
the moment, however, it constitutes their chief danger.

The redskins disappear as they have come like shadows, and soon their
place is taken by the beasts, a great and motley procession: lions,
tigers, bears, and the innumerable smaller savage things that flee
from them, for every kind of beast, and, more particularly, all the
man-eaters, live cheek by jowl on the favoured island. Their tongues
are hanging out, they are hungry to-night.

When they have passed, comes the last figure of all, a gigantic crocodile.
We shall see for whom she is looking presently.

The crocodile passes, but soon the boys appear again, for the procession
must continue indefinitely until one of the parties stops or changes
its pace. Then quickly they will be on top of each other.

All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but none suspects that
the danger may be creeping up from behind. This shows how real the
island was.

The first to fall out of the moving circle was the boys. They flung
themselves down on the sward, close to their underground home.

{}``I do wish Peter would come back,'' every one of them said nervously,
though in height and still more in breadth they were all larger than
their captain.

{}``I am the only one who is not afraid of the pirates,'' Slightly
said, in the tone that prevented his being a general favourite; but
perhaps some distant sound disturbed him, for he added hastily, {}``but
I wish he would come back, and tell us whether he has heard anything
more about Cinderella.''

They talked of Cinderella, and Tootles was confident that his mother
must have been very like her.

It was only in Peter's absence that they could speak of mothers, the
subject being forbidden by him as silly.

{}``All I remember about my mother,'' Nibs told them, {}``is that
she often said to my father, `Oh, how I wish I had a cheque-book of
my own!' I don't know what a cheque-book is, but I should just love
to give my mother one.''

While they talked they heard a distant sound. You or I, not being
wild things of the woods, would have heard nothing, but they heard
it, and it was the grim song:

\begin{flushleft} \begin{verse} \small

``Yo ho, yo ho, the pirate life, \\*

The flag o' skull and bones, \\*

A merry hour, a hempen rope, \\*

And hey for Davy Jones.''

\end{verse} \end{flushleft}

At once the lost boys\mbox{---}but where are they? They are no longer
there. Rabbits could not have disappeared more quickly.

I will tell you where they are. With the exception of Nibs, who has
darted away to reconnoitre, they are already in their home under the
ground, a very delightful residence of which we shall see a good deal
presently. But how have they reached it?\ for there is no entrance
to be seen, not so much as a large stone, which if rolled away, would
disclose the mouth of a cave. Look closely, however, and you may note
that there are here seven large trees, each with a hole in its hollow
trunk as large as a boy. These are the seven entrances to the home
under the ground, for which Hook has been searching in vain these
many moons. Will he find it tonight?

As the pirates advanced, the quick eye of Starkey sighted Nibs disappearing
through the wood, and at once his pistol flashed out. But an iron
claw gripped his shoulder.

{}``Captain, let go!''\ he cried, writhing.

Now for the first time we hear the voice of Hook. It was a black voice.
{}``Put back that pistol first,'' it said threateningly.

{}``It was one of those boys you hate. I could have shot him dead.''

{}``Ay, and the sound would have brought Tiger Lily's redskins upon
us. Do you want to lose your scalp?''\ 

{}``Shall I after him, Captain,'' asked pathetic Smee, {}``and
tickle him with Johnny Corkscrew?''\ Smee had pleasant names for
everything, and his cutlass was Johnny Corkscrew, because he wiggled
it in the wound. One could mention many lovable traits in Smee. For
instance, after killing, it was his spectacles he wiped instead of
his weapon.

{}``Johnny's a silent fellow,'' he reminded Hook.

{}``Not now, Smee,'' Hook said darkly. {}``He is only one, and
I want to mischief all the seven. Scatter and look for them.''

The pirates disappeared among the trees, and in a moment their Captain
and Smee were alone. Hook heaved a heavy sigh, and I know not why
it was, perhaps it was because of the soft beauty of the evening,
but there came over him a desire to confide to his faithful bo'sun
the story of his life. He spoke long and earnestly, but what it was
all about Smee, who was rather stupid, did not know in the least.

Anon he caught the word Peter.

{}``Most of all,'' Hook was saying passionately, {}``I want their
captain, Peter Pan. 'Twas he cut off my arm.'' He brandished the
hook threateningly. {}``I've waited long to shake his hand with this.
Oh, I'll tear him!''\ 

{}``And yet,'' said Smee, {}``I have often heard you say that hook
was worth a score of hands, for combing the hair and other homely
uses.''

{}``Ay,'' the captain answered, {}``if I was a mother I would pray
to have my children born with this instead of that,'' and he cast
a look of pride upon his iron hand and one of scorn upon the other.
Then again he frowned.

{}``Peter flung my arm,'' he said, wincing, {}``to a crocodile
that happened to be passing by.''

{}``I have often,'' said Smee, {}``noticed your strange dread of
crocodiles.''

{}``Not of crocodiles,'' Hook corrected him, {}``but of that one
crocodile.'' He lowered his voice. {}``It liked my arm so much,
Smee, that it has followed me ever since, from sea to sea and from
land to land, licking its lips for the rest of me.''

{}``In a way,'' said Smee, {}``it's sort of a compliment.''

{}``I want no such compliments,'' Hook barked petulantly. {}``I
want Peter Pan, who first gave the brute its taste for me.''

He sat down on a large mushroom, and now there was a quiver in his
voice. {}``Smee,'' he said huskily, {}``that crocodile would have
had me before this, but by a lucky chance it swallowed a clock which
goes tick tick inside it, and so before it can reach me I hear the
tick and bolt.'' He laughed, but in a hollow way.

{}``Some day,'' said Smee, {}``the clock will run down, and then
he'll get you.''

Hook wetted his dry lips. {}``Ay,'' he said, {}``that's the fear
that haunts me.''

Since sitting down he had felt curiously warm. {}``Smee,'' he said,
{}``this seat is hot.'' He jumped up. {}``Odds bobs, hammer and
tongs I'm burning.''

They examined the mushroom, which was of a size and solidity unknown
on the mainland; they tried to pull it up, and it came away at once
in their hands, for it had no root. Stranger still, smoke began at
once to ascend. The pirates looked at each other. {}``A chimney!''\ 
they both exclaimed.

They had indeed discovered the chimney of the home under the ground.
It was the custom of the boys to stop it with a mushroom when enemies
were in the neighbourhood.

Not only smoke came out of it. There came also children's voices,
for so safe did the boys feel in their hiding-place that they were
gaily chattering. The pirates listened grimly, and then replaced the
mushroom. They looked around them and noted the holes in the seven
trees.

{}``Did you hear them say Peter Pan's from home?''\ Smee whispered,
fidgeting with Johnny Corkscrew.

Hook nodded. He stood for a long time lost in thought, and at last
a curdling smile lit up his swarthy face. Smee had been waiting for
it. {}``Unrip your plan, captain,'' he cried eagerly.

{}``To return to the ship,'' Hook replied slowly through his teeth,
{}``and cook a large rich cake of a jolly thickness with green sugar
on it. There can be but one room below, for there is but one chimney.
The silly moles had not the sense to see that they did not need a
door apiece. That shows they have no mother. We will leave the cake
on the shore of the Mermaids' Lagoon. These boys are always swimming
about there, playing with the mermaids. They will find the cake and
they will gobble it up, because, having no mother, they don't know
how dangerous 'tis to eat rich damp cake.'' He burst into laughter,
not hollow laughter now, but honest laughter. {}``Aha, they will
die.''

Smee had listened with growing admiration.

{}``It's the wickedest, prettiest policy ever I heard of!''\ he
cried, and in their exultation they danced and sang:

\begin{flushleft} \begin{verse} \small

``Avast, belay, when I appear, \\*

By fear they're overtook; \\*

\mbox{Nought's left upon your bones when you} \\*

Have shaken claws with Cook.''

\end{verse} \end{flushleft}

They began the verse, but they never finished it, for another sound
broke in and stilled them. The was at first such a tiny sound that
a leaf might have fallen on it and smothered it, but as it came nearer
it was more distinct.

Tick tick tick tick!

Hook stood shuddering, one foot in the air.

{}``The crocodile!''\ he gasped, and bounded away, followed by
his bo'sun.

It was indeed the crocodile. It had passed the redskins, who were
now on the trail of the other pirates. It oozed on after Hook.

Once more the boys emerged into the open; but the dangers of the night
were not yet over, for presently Nibs rushed breathless into their
midst, pursued by a pack of wolves. The tongues of the pursuers were
hanging out; the baying of them was horrible.

{}``Save me, save me!''\ cried Nibs, falling on the ground.

{}``But what can we do, what can we do?''\ 

It was a high compliment to Peter that at that dire moment their thoughts
turned to him.

{}``What would Peter do?''\ they cried simultaneously.

Almost in the same breath they cried, {}``Peter would look at them
through his legs.''

And then, {}``Let us do what Peter would do.''

It is quite the most successful way of defying wolves, and as one
boy they bent and looked through their legs. The next moment is the
long one, but victory came quickly, for as the boys advanced upon
them in the terrible attitude, the wolves dropped their tails and
fled.

Now Nibs rose from the ground, and the others thought that his staring
eyes still saw the wolves. But it was not wolves he saw.

{}``I have seen a wonderfuller thing,'' he cried, as they gathered
round him eagerly. {}``A great white bird. It is flying this way.''

{}``What kind of a bird, do you think?''\ 

{}``I don't know,'' Nibs said, awestruck, {}``but it looks so weary,
and as it flies it moans, `Poor Wendy,'''

{}``Poor Wendy?''\ 

{}``I remember,'' said Slightly instantly, {}``there are birds
called Wendies.''

{}``See, it comes!''\ cried Curly, pointing to Wendy in the heavens.

Wendy was now almost overhead, and they could hear her plaintive cry.
But more distinct came the shrill voice of Tinker Bell. The jealous
fairy had now cast off all disguise of friendship, and was darting
at her victim from every direction, pinching savagely each time she
touched.

{}``Hullo, Tink,'' cried the wondering boys.

Tink's reply rang out: {}``Peter wants you to shoot the Wendy.''

It was not in their nature to question when Peter ordered. {}``Let
us do what Peter wishes!''\ cried the simple boys. {}``Quick, bows
and arrows!''\ 

All but Tootles popped down their trees. He had a bow and arrow with
him, and Tink noted it, and rubbed her little hands.

{}``Quick, Tootles, quick,'' she screamed. {}``Peter will be so
pleased.''

Tootles excitedly fitted the arrow to his bow. {}``Out of the way,
Tink,'' he shouted, and then he fired, and Wendy fluttered to the
ground with an arrow in her breast.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 6. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Little}}
\textit{\emph{House}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 6. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Little}}
\textit{\emph{House}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 6}

Foolish Tootles was standing like a conqueror over Wendy's body when
the other boys sprang, armed, from their trees.

{}``You are too late,'' he cried proudly, {}``I have shot the Wendy.
Peter will be so pleased with me.''

Overhead Tinker Bell shouted {}``Silly ass!''\ and darted into
hiding. The others did not hear her. They had crowded round Wendy,
and as they looked a terrible silence fell upon the wood. If Wendy's
heart had been beating they would all have heard it.

Slightly was the first to speak. {}``This is no bird,'' he said
in a scared voice. {}``I think this must be a lady.''

{}``A lady?''\ said Tootles, and fell a-trembling.

{}``And we have killed her,'' Nibs said hoarsely.

They all whipped off their caps.

{}``Now I see,'' Curly said: {}``Peter was bringing her to us.''
He threw himself sorrowfully on the ground.

{}``A lady to take care of us at last,'' said one of the twins,
{}``and you have killed her!''\ 

They were sorry for him, but sorrier for themselves, and when he took
a step nearer them they turned from him.

Tootles' face was very white, but there was a dignity about him now
that had never been there before.

{}``I did it,'' he said, reflecting. {}``When ladies used to come
to me in dreams, I said, `Pretty mother, pretty mother.' But when
at last she really came, I shot her.''

He moved slowly away.

{}``Don't go,'' they called in pity.

{}``I must,'' he answered, shaking; {}``I am so afraid of Peter.''

It was at this tragic moment that they heard a sound which made the
heart of every one of them rise to his mouth. They heard Peter crow.

{}``Peter!''\ they cried, for it was always thus that he signalled
his return.

{}``Hide her,'' they whispered, and gathered hastily around Wendy.
But Tootles stood aloof.

Again came that ringing crow, and Peter dropped in front of them.
{}``Greetings, boys,'' he cried, and mechanically they saluted,
and then again was silence.

He frowned.

{}``I am back,'' he said hotly, {}``why do you not cheer?''\ 

They opened their mouths, but the cheers would not come. He overlooked
it in his haste to tell the glorious tidings.

{}``Great news, boys,'' he cried, {}``I have brought at last a
mother for you all.''

Still no sound, except a little thud from Tootles as he dropped on
his knees.

{}``Have you not seen her?''\ asked Peter, becoming troubled. {}``She
flew this way.''

{}``Ah me!''\ once voice said, and another said, {}``Oh, mournful
day.''

Tootles rose. {}``Peter,'' he said quietly, {}``I will show her
to you,'' and when the others would still have hidden her he said,
{}``Back, twins, let Peter see.''

So they all stood back, and let him see, and after he had looked for
a little time he did not know what to do next.

{}``She is dead,'' he said uncomfortably. {}``Perhaps she is frightened
at being dead.''

He thought of hopping off in a comic sort of way till he was out of
sight of her, and then never going near the spot any more. They would
all have been glad to follow if he had done this.

But there was the arrow. He took it from her heart and faced his band.

{}``Whose arrow?''\ he demanded sternly.

{}``Mine, Peter,'' said Tootles on his knees.

{}``Oh, dastard hand,'' Peter said, and he raised the arrow to use
it as a dagger.

Tootles did not flinch. He bared his breast. {}``Strike, Peter,''
he said firmly, {}``strike true.''

Twice did Peter raise the arrow, and twice did his hand fall. {}``I
cannot strike,'' he said with awe, {}``there is something stays
my hand.''

All looked at him in wonder, save Nibs, who fortunately looked at
Wendy.

{}``It is she,'' he cried, {}``the Wendy lady, see, her arm!''\ 

Wonderful to relate, Wendy had raised her arm. Nibs bent over her
and listened reverently. {}``I think she said, `Poor Tootles,'''
he whispered.

{}``She lives,'' Peter said briefly.

Slightly cried instantly, {}``The Wendy lady lives.''

Then Peter knelt beside her and found his button. You remember she
had put it on a chain that she wore round her neck.

{}``See,'' he said, {}``the arrow struck against this. It is the
kiss I gave her. It has saved her life.''

{}``I remember kisses,'' Slightly interposed quickly, {}``let me
see it. Ay, that's a kiss.''

Peter did not hear him. He was begging Wendy to get better quickly,
so that he could show her the mermaids. Of course she could not answer
yet, being still in a frightful faint; but from overhead came a wailing
note.

{}``Listen to Tink,'' said Curly, {}``she is crying because the
Wendy lives.''

Then they had to tell Peter of Tink's crime, and almost never had
they seen him look so stern.

{}``Listen, Tinker Bell,'' he cried, {}``I am your friend no more.
Begone from me for ever.''

She flew on to his shoulder and pleaded, but he brushed her off. Not
until Wendy again raised her arm did he relent sufficiently to say,
{}``Well, not for ever, but for a whole week.''

Do you think Tinker Bell was grateful to Wendy for raising her arm?
Oh dear no, never wanted to pinch her so much. Fairies indeed are
strange, and Peter, who understood them best, often cuffed them.

But what to do with Wendy in her present delicate state of health?

{}``Let us carry her down into the house,'' Curly suggested.

{}``Ay,'' said Slightly, {}``that is what one does with ladies.''

{}``No, no,'' Peter said, {}``you must not touch her. It would
not be sufficiently respectful.''

{}``That,'' said Slightly, {}``is what I was thinking.''

{}``But if she lies there,'' Tootles said, {}``she will die.''

{}``Ay, she will die,'' Slightly admitted, {}``but there is no
way out.''

{}``Yes, there is,'' cried Peter. {}``Let us build a little house
round her.''

They were all delighted. {}``Quick,'' he ordered them, {}``bring
me each of you the best of what we have. Gut our house. Be sharp.''

In a moment they were as busy as tailors the night before a wedding.
They skurried this way and that, down for bedding, up for firewood,
and while they were at it, who should appear but John and Michael.
As they dragged along the ground they fell asleep standing, stopped,
woke up, moved another step and slept again.

{}``John, John,'' Michael would cry, {}``wake up! Where is Nana,
John, and mother?''\ 

And then John would rub his eyes and mutter, {}``It is true, we did
fly.''

You may be sure they were very relieved to find Peter.

{}``Hullo, Peter,'' they said.

{}``Hullo,'' replied Peter amicably, though he had quite forgotten
them. He was very busy at the moment measuring Wendy with his feet
to see how large a house she would need. Of course he meant to leave
room for chairs and a table. John and Michael watched him.

{}``Is Wendy asleep?''\ they asked.

{}``Yes.''

{}``John,'' Michael proposed, {}``let us wake her and get her to
make supper for us,'' but as he said it some of the other boys rushed
on carrying branches for the building of the house. {}``Look at them!''\ 
he cried.

{}``Curly,'' said Peter in his most captainy voice, {}``see that
these boys help in the building of the house.''

{}``Ay, ay, sir.''

{}``Build a house?''\ exclaimed John.

{}``For the Wendy,'' said Curly.

{}``For Wendy?''\ John said, aghast. {}``Why, she is only a girl!''\ 

{}``That,'' explained Curly, {}``is why we are her servants.''

{}``You? Wendy's servants!''\ 

{}``Yes,'' said Peter, {}``and you also. Away with them.''

The astounded brothers were dragged away to hack and hew and carry.
{}``Chairs and a fender first,'' Peter ordered. {}``Then we shall
build a house round them.''

{}``Ay,'' said Slightly, {}``that is how a house is built; it all
comes back to me.''

Peter thought of everything. {}``Slightly,'' he cried, {}``fetch
a doctor.''

{}``Ay, ay,'' said Slightly at once, and disappeared, scratching
his head. But he knew Peter must be obeyed, and he returned in a moment,
wearing John's hat and looking solemn.

{}``Please, sir,'' said Peter, going to him, {}``are you a doctor?''\ 

The difference between him and the other boys at such a time was that
they knew it was make-believe, while to him make-believe and true
were exactly the same thing. This sometimes troubled them, as when
they had to make-believe that they had had their dinners.

If they broke down in their make-believe he rapped them on the knuckles.

{}``Yes, my little man,'' Slightly anxiously replied, who had chapped
knuckles.

{}``Please, sir,'' Peter explained, {}``a lady lies very ill.''

She was lying at their feet, but Slightly had the sense not to see
her.

{}``Tut, tut, tut,'' he said, {}``where does she lie?''\ 

{}``In yonder glade.''

{}``I will put a glass thing in her mouth,'' said Slightly, and
he made-believe to do it, while Peter waited. It was an anxious moment
when the glass thing was withdrawn.

{}``How is she?''\ inquired Peter.

{}``Tut, tut, tut,'' said Slightly, {}``this has cured her.''

{}``I am glad!''\ Peter cried.

{}``I will call again in the evening,'' Slightly said; {}``give
her beef tea out of a cup with a spout to it''; but after he had
returned the hat to John he blew big breaths, which was his habit
on escaping from a difficulty.

In the meantime the wood had been alive with the sound of axes; almost
everything needed for a cosy dwelling already lay at Wendy's feet.

{}``If only we knew,'' said one, {}``the kind of house she likes
best.''

{}``Peter,'' shouted another, {}``she is moving in her sleep.''

{}``Her mouth opens,'' cried a third, looking respectfully into
it. {}``Oh, lovely!''\ 

{}``Perhaps she is going to sing in her sleep,'' said Peter. {}``Wendy,
sing the kind of house you would like to have.''

Immediately, without opening her eyes, Wendy began to sing:

\begin{flushleft} \begin{verse} \small

``I wish I had a pretty house, \\*

The littlest ever seen, \\*

With funny little red walls \\*

And roof of mossy green.''

\end{verse} \end{flushleft}

They gurgled with joy at this, for by the greatest good luck the branches
they had brought were sticky with red sap, and all the ground was
carpeted with moss. As they rattled up the little house they broke
into song themselves:

\begin{flushleft} \begin{verse} \small

``We've built the little walls and roof \\*

And made a lovely door, \\*

So tell us, mother Wendy, \\*

What are you wanting more?''

\end{verse} \end{flushleft}

To this she answered greedily:

\begin{flushleft} \begin{verse} \small

``Oh, really next I think I'll have \\*

Gay windows all about, \\*

With roses peeping in, you know, \\*

And babies peeping out.''

\end{verse} \end{flushleft}

With a blow of their fists they made windows, and large yellow leaves
were the blinds. But roses\mbox{---}?

{}``Roses,'' cried Peter sternly.

Quickly they made-believe to grow the loveliest roses up the walls.

Babies?

To prevent Peter ordering babies they hurried into song again:

\begin{flushleft} \begin{verse} \small

``We've made the roses peeping out, \\*

The babes are at the door, \\*

We cannot make ourselves, you know, \\*

'Cos we've been made before.''

\end{verse} \end{flushleft}

Peter, seeing this to be a good idea, at once pretended that it was
his own. The house was quite beautiful, and no doubt Wendy was very
cosy within, though, of course, they could no longer see her. Peter
strode up and down, ordering finishing touches. Nothing escaped his
eagle eyes. Just when it seemed absolutely finished:

{}``There's no knocker on the door,'' he said.

They were very ashamed, but Tootles gave the sole of his shoe, and
it made an excellent knocker.

Absolutely finished now, they thought.

Not of bit of it. {}``There's no chimney,'' Peter said; {}``we
must have a chimney.''

{}``It certainly does need a chimney,'' said John importantly. This
gave Peter an idea. He snatched the hat off John's head, knocked out
the bottom, and put the hat on the roof. The little house was so pleased
to have such a capital chimney that, as if to say thank you, smoke
immediately began to come out of the hat.

Now really and truly it was finished. Nothing remained to do but to
knock.

{}``All look your best,'' Peter warned them; {}``first impressions
are awfully important.''

He was glad no one asked him what first impressions are; they were
all too busy looking their best.

He knocked politely, and now the wood was as still as the children,
not a sound to be heard except from Tinker Bell, who was watching
from a branch and openly sneering.

What the boys were wondering was, would any one answer the knock?
If a lady, what would she be like?

The door opened and a lady came out. It was Wendy. They all whipped
off their hats.

She looked properly surprised, and this was just how they had hoped
she would look.

{}``Where am I?''\ she said.

Of course Slightly was the first to get his word in. {}``Wendy lady,''
he said rapidly, {}``for you we built this house.''

{}``Oh, say you're pleased,'' cried Nibs.

{}``Lovely, darling house,'' Wendy said, and they were the very
words they had hoped she would say.

{}``And we are your children,'' cried the twins.

Then all went on their knees, and holding out their arms cried, {}``O
Wendy lady, be our mother.''

{}``Ought I?''\ Wendy said, all shining. {}``Of course it's frightfully
fascinating, but you see I am only a little girl. I have no real experience.''

{}``That doesn't matter,'' said Peter, as if he were the only person
present who knew all about it, though he was really the one who knew
least. {}``What we need is just a nice motherly person.''

{}``Oh dear!''\ Wendy said, {}``you see, I feel that is exactly
what I am.''

{}``It is, it is,'' they all cried; {}``we saw it at once.''

{}``Very well,'' she said, {}``I will do my best. Come inside at
once, you naughty children; I am sure your feet are damp. And before
I put you to bed I have just time to finish the story of Cinderella.''

In they went; I don't know how there was room for them, but you can
squeeze very tight in the Neverland. And that was the first of the
many joyous evenings they had with Wendy. By and by she tucked them
up in the great bed in the home under the trees, but she herself slept
that night in the little house, and Peter kept watch outside with
drawn sword, for the pirates could be heard carousing far away and
the wolves were on the prowl. The little house looked so cosy and
safe in the darkness, with a bright light showing through its blinds,
and the chimney smoking beautifully, and Peter standing on guard.
After a time he fell asleep, and some unsteady fairies had to climb
over him on their way home from an orgy. Any of the other boys obstructing
the fairy path at night they would have mischiefed, but they just
tweaked Peter's nose and passed on.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 7. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Home}}
\textit{\emph{Under}} \textit{\emph{the}} \textit{\emph{Ground}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 7. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Home}}
\textit{\emph{Under}} \textit{\emph{the}} \textit{\emph{Ground}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 7}

One of the first things Peter did next day was to measure Wendy and
John and Michael for hollow trees. Hook, you remember, had sneered
at the boys for thinking they needed a tree apiece, but this was ignorance,
for unless your tree fitted you it was difficult to go up and down,
and no two of the boys were quite the same size. Once you fitted,
you drew in your breath at the top, and down you went at exactly the
right speed, while to ascend you drew in and let out alternately,
and so wriggled up. Of course, when you have mastered the action you
are able to do these things without thinking of them, and nothing
can be more graceful.

But you simply must fit, and Peter measures you for your tree as carefully
as for a suit of clothes: the only difference being that the clothes
are made to fit you, while you have to be made to fit the tree. Usually
it is done quite easily, as by your wearing too many garments or too
few, but if you are bumpy in awkward places or the only available
tree is an odd shape, Peter does some things to you, and after that
you fit. Once you fit, great care must be taken to go on fitting,
and this, as Wendy was to discover to her delight, keeps a whole family
in perfect condition.

Wendy and Michael fitted their trees at the first try, but John had
to be altered a little.

After a few days' practice they could go up and down as gaily as buckets
in a well. And how ardently they grew to love their home under the
ground; especially Wendy. It consisted of one large room, as all houses
should do, with a floor in which you could dig if you wanted to go
fishing, and in this floor grew stout mushrooms of a charming colour,
which were used as stools. A Never tree tried hard to grow in the
centre of the room, but every morning they sawed the trunk through,
level with the floor. By tea-time it was always about two feet high,
and then they put a door on top of it, the whole thus becoming a table;
as soon as they cleared away, they sawed off the trunk again, and
thus there was more room to play. There was an enourmous fireplace
which was in almost any part of the room where you cared to light
it, and across this Wendy stretched strings, made of fibre, from which
she suspended her washing. The bed was tilted against the wall by
day, and let down at 6:30, when it filled nearly half the room; and
all the boys slept in it, except Michael, lying like sardines in a
tin. There was a strict rule against turning round until one gave
the signal, when all turned at once. Michael should have used it also,
but Wendy would have a baby, and he was the littlest, and you know
what women are, and the short and long of it is that he was hung up
in a basket.

It was rough and simple, and not unlike what baby bears would have
made of an underground house in the same circumstances. But there
was one recess in the wall, no larger than a bird-cage, which was
the private apartment of Tinker Bell. It could be shut off from the
rest of the house by a tiny curtain, which Tink, who was most fastidious,
always kept drawn when dressing or undressing. No woman, however large,
could have had a more exquisite boudoir and bed-chamber combined.
The couch, as she always called it, was a genuine Queen Mab, with
club legs; and she varied the bedspreads according to what fruit-blossom
was in season. Her mirror was a Puss-in-Boots, of which there are
now only three, unchipped, known to fairy dealers; the washstand was
Pie-crust and reversible, the chest of drawers an authentic Charming
the Sixth, and the carpet and rugs the best (the early) period of
Margery and Robin. There was a chandelier from Tiddlywinks for the
look of the thing, but of course she lit the residence herself. Tink
was very contemptuous of the rest of the house, as indeed was perhaps
inevitable, and her chamber, though beautiful, looked rather conceited,
having the appearance of a nose permanently turned up.

I suppose it was all especially entrancing to Wendy, because those
rampagious boys of hers gave her so much to do. Really there were
whole weeks when, except perhaps with a stocking in the evening, she
was never above ground. The cooking, I can tell you, kept her nose
to the pot, and even if there was nothing in it, even if there was
no pot, she had to keep watching that it came aboil just the same.
You never exactly knew whether there would be a real meal or just
a make-believe, it all depended upon Peter's whim: he could eat, really
eat, if it was part of a game, but he could not stodge just to feel
stodgy, which is what most children like better than anything else;
the next best thing being to talk about it. Make-believe was so real
to him that during a meal of it you could see him getting rounder.
Of course it was trying, but you simply had to follow his lead, and
if you could prove to him that you were getting loose for your tree
he let you stodge.

Wendy's favourite time for sewing and darning was after they had all
gone to bed. Then, as she expressed it, she had a breathing time for
herself; and she occupied it in making new things for them, and putting
double pieces on the knees, for they were all most frightfully hard
on their knees.

When she sat down to a basketful of their stockings, every heel with
a hole in it, she would fling up her arms and exclaim, {}``Oh dear,
I am sure I sometimes think spinsters are to be envied!''\ 

Her face beamed when she exclaimed this.

You remember about her pet wolf. Well, it very soon discovered that
she had come to the island and it found her out, and they just ran
into each other's arms. After that it followed her about everywhere.

As time wore on did she think much about the beloved parents she had
left behind her? This is a difficult question, because it is quite
impossible to say how time does wear on in the Neverland, where it
is calculated by moons and suns, and there are ever so many more of
them than on the mainland. But I am afraid that Wendy did not really
worry about her father and mother; she was absolutely confident that
they would always keep the window open for her to fly back by, and
this gave her complete ease of mind. What did disturb her at times
was that John remembered his parents vaguely only, as people he had
once known, while Michael was quite willing to believe that she was
really his mother. These things scared her a little, and nobly anxious
to do her duty, she tried to fix the old life in their minds by setting
them examination papers on it, as like as possible to the ones she
used to do at school. The other boys thought this awfully interesting,
and insisted on joining, and they made slates for themselves, and
sat round the table, writing and thinking hard about the questions
she had written on another slate and passed round. They were the most
ordinary questions\mbox{---}{}``What was the colour of Mother's
eyes? Which was taller, Father or Mother? Was Mother blonde or brunette?
Answer all three questions if possible.'' {}``(A) Write an essay
of not less than 40 words on How I spent my last Holidays, or The
Characters of Father and Mother compared. Only one of these to be
attempted.'' Or {}``(1) Describe Mother's laugh; (2) Describe Father's
laugh; (3) Describe Mother's Party Dress; (4) Describe the Kennel
and its Inmate.''

They were just everyday questions like these, and when you could not
answer them you were told to make a cross; and it was really dreadful
what a number of crosses even John made. Of course the only boy who
replied to every question was Slightly, and no one could have been
more hopeful of coming out first, but his answers were perfectly ridiculous,
and he really came out last: a melancholy thing.

Peter did not compete. For one thing he despised all mothers except
Wendy, and for another he was the only boy on the island who could
neither write nor spell; not the smallest word. He was above all that
sort of thing.

By the way, the questions were all written in the past tense. What
was the colour of Mother's eyes, and so on. Wendy, you see, had been
forgetting, too.

Adventures, of course, as we shall see, were of daily occurrence;
but about this time Peter invented, with Wendy's help, a new game
that fascinated him enormously, until he suddenly had no more interest
in it, which, as you have been told, was what always happened with
his games. It consisted in pretending not to have adventures, in doing
the sort of thing John and Michael had been doing all their lives,
sitting on stools flinging balls in the air, pushing each other, going
out for walks and coming back without having killed so much as a grizzly.
To see Peter doing nothing on a stool was a great sight; he could
not help looking solemn at such times, to sit still seemed to him
such a comic thing to do. He boasted that he had gone walking for
the good of his health. For several suns these were the most novel
of all adventures to him; and John and Michael had to pretend to be
delighted also; otherwise he would have treated them severely.

He often went out alone, and when he came back you were never absolutely
certain whether he had had an adventure or not. He might have forgotten
it so completely that he said nothing about it; and then when you
went out you found the body; and, on the other hand, he might say
a great deal about it, and yet you could not find the body. Sometimes
he came home with his head bandaged, and then Wendy cooed over him
and bathed it in lukewarm water, while he told a dazzling tale. But
she was never quite sure, you know. There were, however, many adventures
which she knew to be true because she was in them herself, and there
were still more that were at least partly true, for the other boys
were in them and said they were wholly true. To describe them all
would require a book as large as an English-Latin, Latin-English Dictionary,
and the most we can do is to give one as a specimen of an average
hour on the island. The difficulty is which one to choose. Should
we take the brush with the redskins at Slightly Gulch? It was a sanguinary
affair, and especially interesting as showing one of Peter's peculiarities,
which was that in the middle of a fight he would suddenly change sides.
At the Gulch, when victory was still in the balance, sometimes leaning
this way and sometimes that, he called out, {}``I'm redskin to-day;
what are you, Tootles?''\ And Tootles answered, {}``Redskin; what
are you, Nibs?''\ and Nibs said, {}``Redskin; what are you Twin?''\ and
so on; and they were all redskins; and of course this would have ended
the fight had not the real redskins fascinated by Peter's methods,
agreed to be lost boys for that once, and so at it they all went again,
more fiercely than ever.

The extraordinary upshot of this adventure was\mbox{---}but we have
not decided yet that this is the adventure we are to narrate. Perhaps
a better one would be the night attack by the redskins on the house
under the ground, when several of them stuck in the hollow trees and
had to be pulled out like corks. Or we might tell how Peter saved
Tiger Lily's life in the Mermaids' Lagoon, and so made her his ally.

Or we could tell of that cake the pirates cooked so that the boys
might eat it and perish; and how they placed it in one cunning spot
after another; but always Wendy snatched it from the hands of her
children, so that in time it lost its succulence, and became as hard
as a stone, and was used as a missile, and Hook fell over it in the
dark.

Or suppose we tell of the birds that were Peter's friends, particularly
of the Never bird that built in a tree overhanging the lagoon, and
how the nest fell into the water, and still the bird sat on her eggs,
and Peter gave orders that she was not to be disturbed. That is a
pretty story, and the end shows how grateful a bird can be; but if
we tell it we must also tell the whole adventure of the lagoon, which
would of course be telling two adventures rather than just one. A
shorter adventure, and quite as exciting, was Tinker Bell's attempt,
with the help of some street fairies, to have the sleeping Wendy conveyed
on a great floating leaf to the mainland. Fortunately the leaf gave
way and Wendy woke, thinking it was bath-time, and swam back. Or again,
we might choose Peter's defiance of the lions, when he drew a circle
round him on the ground with an arrow and dared them to cross it;
and though he waited for hours, with the other boys and Wendy looking
on breathlessly from trees, not one of them dared to accept his challenge.

Which of these adventures shall we choose? The best way will be to
toss for it.

I have tossed, and the lagoon has won. This almost makes one wish
that the gulch or the cake or Tink's leaf had won. Of course I could
do it again, and make it best out of three; however, perhaps fairest
to stick to the lagoon.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 8. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Mermaids}}\emph{'}
\textit{\emph{Lagoon}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 8. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Mermaids}}\emph{'}
\textit{\emph{Lagoon}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 8}

If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at times a
shapeless pool of lovely pale colours suspended in the darkness; then
if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape, and
the colours become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go
on fire. But just before they go on fire you see the lagoon. This
is the nearest you ever get to it on the mainland, just one heavenly
moment; if there could be two moments you might see the surf and hear
the mermaids singing.

The children often spent long summer days on this lagoon, swimming
or floating most of the time, playing the mermaid games in the water,
and so forth. You must not think from this that the mermaids were
on friendly terms with them: on the contrary, it was among Wendy's
lasting regrets that all the time she was on the island she never
had a civil word from one of them. When she stole softly to the edge
of the lagoon she might see them by the score, especially on Marooners'
Rock, where they loved to bask, combing out their hair in a lazy way
that quite irritated her; or she might even swim, on tiptoe as it
were, to within a yard of them, but then they saw her and dived, probably
splashing her with their tails, not by accident, but intentionally.

They treated all the boys in the same way, except of course Peter,
who chatted with them on Marooners' Rock by the hour, and sat on their
tails when they got cheeky. He gave Wendy one of their combs.

The most haunting time at which to see them is at the turn of the
moon, when they utter strange wailing cries; but the lagoon is dangerous
for mortals then, and until the evening of which we have now to tell,
Wendy had never seen the lagoon by moonlight, less from fear, for
of course Peter would have accompanied her, than because she had strict
rules about every one being in bed by seven. She was often at the
lagoon, however, on sunny days after rain, when the mermaids come
up in extraordinary numbers to play with their bubbles. The bubbles
of many colours made in rainbow water they treat as balls, hitting
them gaily from one to another with their tails, and trying to keep
them in the rainbow till they burst. The goals are at each end of
the rainbow, and the keepers only are allowed to use their hands.
Sometimes a dozen of these games will be going on in the lagoon at
a time, and it is quite a pretty sight.

But the moment the children tried to join in they had to play by themselves,
for the mermaids immediately disappeared. Nevertheless we have proof
that they secretly watched the interlopers, and were not above taking
an idea from them; for John introduced a new way of hitting the bubble,
with the head instead of the hand, and the mermaids adopted it. This
is the one mark that John has left on the Neverland.

It must also have been rather pretty to see the children resting on
a rock for half an hour after their mid-day meal. Wendy insisted on
their doing this, and it had to be a real rest even though the meal
was make-believe. So they lay there in the sun, and their bodies glistened
in it, while she sat beside them and looked important.

It was one such day, and they were all on Marooners' Rock. The rock
was not much larger than their great bed, but of course they all knew
how not to take up much room, and they were dozing, or at least lying
with their eyes shut, and pinching occasionally when they thought
Wendy was not looking. She was very busy, stitching.

While she stitched a change came to the lagoon. Little shivers ran
over it, and the sun went away and shadows stole across the water,
turning it cold. Wendy could no longer see to thread her needle, and
when she looked up, the lagoon that had always hitherto been such
a laughing place seemed formidable and unfriendly.

It was not, she knew, that night had come, but something as dark as
night had come. No, worse than that. It had not come, but it had sent
that shiver through the sea to say that it was coming. What was it?

There crowded upon her all the stories she had been told of Marooners'
Rock, so called because evil captains put sailors on it and leave
them there to drown. They drown when the tide rises, for then it is
submerged.

Of course she should have roused the children at once; not merely
because of the unknown that was stalking toward them, but because
it was no longer good for them to sleep on a rock grown chilly. But
she was a young mother and she did not know this; she thought you
simply must stick to your rule about half an hour after the mid-day
meal. So, though fear was upon her, and she longed to hear male voices,
she would not waken them. Even when she heard the sound of muffled
oars, though her heart was in her mouth, she did not waken them. She
stood over them to let them have their sleep out. Was it not brave
of Wendy?

It was well for those boys then that there was one among them who
could sniff danger even in his sleep. Peter sprang erect, as wide
awake at once as a dog, and with one warning cry he roused the others.

He stood motionless, one hand to his ear.

{}``Pirates!''\ he cried. The others came closer to him. A strange
smile was playing about his face, and Wendy saw it and shuddered.
While that smile was on his face no one dared address him; all they
could do was to stand ready to obey. The order came sharp and incisive.

{}``Dive!''\ 

There was a gleam of legs, and instantly the lagoon seemed deserted.
Marooners' Rock stood alone in the forbidding waters as if it were
itself marooned.

The boat drew nearer. It was the pirate dinghy, with three figures
in her, Smee and Starkey, and the third a captive, no other than Tiger
Lily. Her hands and ankles were tied, and she knew what was to be
her fate. She was to be left on the rock to perish, an end to one
of her race more terrible than death by fire or torture, for is it
not written in the book of the tribe that there is no path through
water to the happy hunting-ground? Yet her face was impassive; she
was the daughter of a chief, she must die as a chief's daughter, it
is enough.

They had caught her boarding the pirate ship with a knife in her mouth.
No watch was kept on the ship, it being Hook's boast that the wind
of his name guarded the ship for a mile around. Now her fate would
help to guard it also. One more wail would go the round in that wind
by night.

In the gloom that they brought with them the two pirates did not see
the rock till they crashed into it.

{}``Luff, you lubber,'' cried an Irish voice that was Smee's; {}``here's
the rock. Now, then, what we have to do is to hoist the redskin on
to it and leave her here to drown.''

It was the work of one brutal moment to land the beautiful girl on
the rock; she was too proud to offer a vain resistance.

Quite near the rock, but out of sight, two heads were bobbing up and
down, Peter's and Wendy's. Wendy was crying, for it was the first
tragedy she had seen. Peter had seen many tragedies, but he had forgotten
them all. He was less sorry than Wendy for Tiger Lily: it was two
against one that angered him, and he meant to save her. An easy way
would have been to wait until the pirates had gone, but he was never
one to choose the easy way.

There was almost nothing he could not do, and he now imitated the
voice of Hook.

{}``Ahoy there, you lubbers!''\ he called. It was a marvellous
imitation.

{}``The captain!''\ said the pirates, staring at each other in
surprise.

{}``He must be swimming out to us,'' Starkey said, when they had
looked for him in vain.

{}``We are putting the redskin on the rock,'' Smee called out.

{}``Set her free,'' came the astonishing answer.

{}``Free!''\ 

{}``Yes, cut her bonds and let her go.''

{}``But, captain\mbox{---}''

{}``At once, d'ye hear,'' cried Peter, {}``or I'll plunge my hook
in you.''

{}``This is queer!''\ Smee gasped.

{}``Better do what the captain orders,'' said Starkey nervously.

{}``Ay, ay.'' Smee said, and he cut Tiger Lily's cords. At once
like an eel she slid between Starkey's legs into the water.

Of course Wendy was very elated over Peter's cleverness; but she knew
that he would be elated also and very likely crow and thus betray
himself, so at once her hand went out to cover his mouth. But it was
stayed even in the act, for {}``Boat ahoy!''\ rang over the lagoon
in Hook's voice, and this time it was not Peter who had spoken.

Peter may have been about to crow, but his face puckered in a whistle
of surprise instead.

{}``Boat ahoy!''\ again came the voice.

Now Wendy understood. The real Hook was also in the water.

He was swimming to the boat, and as his men showed a light to guide
him he had soon reached them. In the light of the lantern Wendy saw
his hook grip the boat's side; she saw his evil swarthy face as he
rose dripping from the water, and, quaking, she would have liked to
swim away, but Peter would not budge. He was tingling with life and
also top-heavy with conceit. {}``Am I not a wonder, oh, I am a wonder!''\ 
he whispered to her, and though she thought so also, she was really
glad for the sake of his reputation that no one heard him except herself.

He signed to her to listen.

The two pirates were very curious to know what had brought their captain
to them, but he sat with his head on his hook in a position of profound
melancholy.

{}``Captain, is all well?''\ they asked timidly, but he answered
with a hollow moan.

{}``He sighs,'' said Smee.

{}``He sighs again,'' said Starkey.

{}``And yet a third time he sighs,'' said Smee.

Then at last he spoke passionately.

{}``The game's up,'' he cried, {}``those boys have found a mother.''

Affrighted though she was, Wendy swelled with pride.

{}``O evil day!''\ cried Starkey.

{}``What's a mother?''\ asked the ignorant Smee.

Wendy was so shocked that she exclaimed. {}``He doesn't know!''\ 
and always after this she felt that if you could have a pet pirate
Smee would be her one.

Peter pulled her beneath the water, for Hook had started up, crying,
{}``What was that?''\ 

{}``I heard nothing,'' said Starkey, raising the lantern over the
waters, and as the pirates looked they saw a strange sight. It was
the nest I have told you of, floating on the lagoon, and the Never
bird was sitting on it.

{}``See,'' said Hook in answer to Smee's question, {}``that is
a mother. What a lesson! The nest must have fallen into the water,
but would the mother desert her eggs? No.''

There was a break in his voice, as if for a moment he recalled innocent
days when\mbox{---}but he brushed away this weakness with his hook.

Smee, much impressed, gazed at the bird as the nest was borne past,
but the more suspicious Starkey said, {}``If she is a mother, perhaps
she is hanging about here to help Peter.''

Hook winced. {}``Ay,'' he said, {}``that is the fear that haunts
me.''

He was roused from this dejection by Smee's eager voice.

{}``Captain,'' said Smee, {}``could we not kidnap these boys' mother
and make her our mother?''\ 

{}``It is a princely scheme,'' cried Hook, and at once it took practical
shape in his great brain. {}``We will seize the children and carry
them to the boat: the boys we will make walk the plank, and Wendy
shall be our mother.

Again Wendy forgot herself.

{}``Never!''\ she cried, and bobbed.

{}``What was that?''\ 

But they could see nothing. They thought it must have been a leaf
in the wind. {}``Do you agree, my bullies?''\ asked Hook.

{}``There is my hand on it,'' they both said.

{}``And there is my hook. Swear.''

They all swore. By this time they were on the rock, and suddenly Hook
remembered Tiger Lily.

{}``Where is the redskin?''\ he demanded abruptly.

He had a playful humour at moments, and they thought this was one
of the moments.

{}``That is all right, captain,'' Smee answered complacently; {}``we
let her go.''

{}``Let her go!''\ cried Hook.

{}``'Twas your own orders,'' the bo'sun faltered.

{}``You called over the water to us to let her go,'' said Starkey.

{}``Brimstone and gall,'' thundered Hook, {}``what cozening is
going on here!''\ His face had gone black with rage, but he saw
that they believed their words, and he was startled. {}``Lads,''
he said, shaking a little, {}``I gave no such order.''

{}``It is passing queer,'' Smee said, and they all fidgeted uncomfortably.
Hook raised his voice, but there was a quiver in it.

{}``Spirit that haunts this dark lagoon to-night,'' he cried, {}``dost
hear me?''\ 

Of course Peter should have kept quiet, but of course he did not.
He immediately answered in Hook's voice:

{}``Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs, I hear you.''

In that supreme moment Hook did not blanch, even at the gills, but
Smee and Starkey clung to each other in terror.

{}``Who are you, stranger? Speak!''\ Hook demanded.

{}``I am James Hook,'' replied the voice, {}``captain of the \textit{Jolly}
\emph{Roger}.''

{}``You are not; you are not,'' Hook cried hoarsely.

{}``Brimstone and gall,'' the voice retorted, {}``say that again,
and I'll cast anchor in you.''

Hook tried a more ingratiating manner. {}``If you are Hook,'' he
said almost humbly, {}``come tell me, who am I?''\ 

{}``A codfish,'' replied the voice, {}``only a codfish.''

{}``A codfish!''\ Hook echoed blankly, and it was then, but not
till then, that his proud spirit broke. He saw his men draw back from
him.

{}``Have we been captained all this time by a codfish!''\ they
muttered. {}``It is lowering to our pride.''

They were his dogs snapping at him, but, tragic figure though he had
become, he scarcely heeded them. Against such fearful evidence it
was not their belief in him that he needed, it was his own. He felt
his ego slipping from him. {}``Don't desert me, bully,'' he whispered
hoarsely to it.

In his dark nature there was a touch of the feminine, as in all the
great pirates, and it sometimes gave him intuitions. Suddenly he tried
the guessing game.

{}``Hook,'' he called, {}``have you another voice?''\ 

Now Peter could never resist a game, and he answered blithely in his
own voice, {}``I have.''

{}``And another name?''\ 

{}``Ay, ay.''

{}``Vegetable?''\ asked Hook.

{}``No.''

{}``Mineral?''\ 

{}``No.''

{}``Animal?''\ 

{}``Yes.''

{}``Man?''\ 

{}``No!''\ This answer rang out scornfully.

{}``Boy?''\ 

{}``Yes.''

{}``Ordinary boy?''\ 

{}``No!''\ 

{}``Wonderful boy?''\ 

To Wendy's pain the answer that rang out this time was {}``Yes.''

{}``Are you in England?''\ 

{}``No.''

{}``Are you here?''\ 

{}``Yes.''

Hook was completely puzzled. {}``You ask him some questions,'' he
said to the others, wiping his damp brow.

Smee reflected. {}``I can't think of a thing,'' he said regretfully.

{}``Can't guess, can't guess!''\ crowed Peter. {}``Do you give
it up?''\ 

Of course in his pride he was carrying the game too far, and the miscreants
saw their chance.

{}``Yes, yes,'' they answered eagerly.

{}``Well, then,'' he cried, {}``I am Peter Pan.''

Pan!

In a moment Hook was himself again, and Smee and Starkey were his
faithful henchmen.

{}``Now we have him,'' Hook shouted. {}``Into the water, Smee.
Starkey, mind the boat. Take him dead or alive!''\ 

He leaped as he spoke, and simultaneously came the gay voice of Peter.

{}``Are you ready, boys?''\ 

{}``Ay, ay,'' from various parts of the lagoon.

{}``Then lam into the pirates.''

The fight was short and sharp. First to draw blood was John, who gallantly
climbed into the boat and held Starkey. There was fierce struggle,
in which the cutlass was torn from the pirate's grasp. He wriggled
overboard and John leapt after him. The dinghy drifted away.

Here and there a head bobbed up in the water, and there was a flash
of steel followed by a cry or a whoop. In the confusion some struck
at their own side. The corkscrew of Smee got Tootles in the fourth
rib, but he was himself pinked in turn by Curly. Farther from the
rock Starkey was pressing Slightly and the twins hard.

Where all this time was Peter? He was seeking bigger game.

The others were all brave boys, and they must not be blamed for backing
from the pirate captain. His iron claw made a circle of dead water
round him, from which they fled like affrighted fishes.

But there was one who did not fear him: there was one prepared to
enter that circle.

Strangely, it was not in the water that they met. Hook rose to the
rock to breathe, and at the same moment Peter scaled it on the opposite
side. The rock was slippery as a ball, and they had to crawl rather
than climb. Neither knew that the other was coming. Each feeling for
a grip met the other's arm: in surprise they raised their heads; their
faces were almost touching; so they met.

Some of the greatest heroes have confessed that just before they fell
to they had a sinking. Had it been so with Peter at that moment I
would admit it. After all, he was the only man that the Sea-Cook had
feared. But Peter had no sinking, he had one feeling only, gladness;
and he gnashed his pretty teeth with joy. Quick as thought he snatched
a knife from Hook's belt and was about to drive it home, when he saw
that he was higher up the rock that his foe. It would not have been
fighting fair. He gave the pirate a hand to help him up.

It was then that Hook bit him.

Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Peter. It made
him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Every child is
affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks
he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After
you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but will never
afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first
unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot
it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the
rest.

So when he met it now it was like the first time; and he could just
stare, helpless. Twice the iron hand clawed him.

A few moments afterwards the other boys saw Hook in the water striking
wildly for the ship; no elation on the pestilent face now, only white
fear, for the crocodile was in dogged pursuit of him. On ordinary
occasions the boys would have swum alongside cheering; but now they
were uneasy, for they had lost both Peter and Wendy, and were scouring
the lagoon for them, calling them by name. They found the dinghy and
went home in it, shouting {}``Peter, Wendy'' as they went, but no
answer came save mocking laughter from the mermaids. {}``They must
be swimming back or flying,'' the boys concluded. They were not very
anxious, because they had such faith in Peter. They chuckled, boylike,
because they would be late for bed; and it was all mother Wendy's
fault!

When their voices died away there came cold silence over the lagoon,
and then a feeble cry.

{}``Help, help!''\ 

Two small figures were beating against the rock; the girl had fainted
and lay on the boy's arm. With a last effort Peter pulled her up the
rock and then lay down beside her. Even as he also fainted he saw
that the water was rising. He knew that they would soon be drowned,
but he could do no more.

As they lay side by side a mermaid caught Wendy by the feet, and began
pulling her softly into the water. Peter, feeling her slip from him,
woke with a start, and was just in time to draw her back. But he had
to tell her the truth.

{}``We are on the rock, Wendy,'' he said, {}``but it is growing
smaller. Soon the water will be over it.''

She did not understand even now.

{}``We must go,'' she said, almost brightly.

{}``Yes,'' he answered faintly.

{}``Shall we swim or fly, Peter?''\ 

He had to tell her.

{}``Do you think you could swim or fly as far as the island, Wendy,
without my help?''\ 

She had to admit that she was too tired.

He moaned.

{}``What is it?''\ she asked, anxious about him at once.

{}``I can't help you, Wendy. Hook wounded me. I can neither fly nor
swim.''

{}``Do you mean we shall both be drowned?''\ 

{}``Look how the water is rising.''

They put their hands over their eyes to shut out the sight. They thought
they would soon be no more. As they sat thus something brushed against
Peter as light as a kiss, and stayed there, as if saying timidly,
{}``Can I be of any use?''\ 

It was the tail of a kite, which Michael had made some days before.
It had torn itself out of his hand and floated away.

{}``Michael's kite,'' Peter said without interest, but next moment
he had seized the tail, and was pulling the kite toward him.

{}``It lifted Michael off the ground,'' he cried; {}``why should
it not carry you?''\ 

{}``Both of us!''\ 

{}``It can't lift two; Michael and Curly tried.''

{}``Let us draw lots,'' Wendy said bravely.

{}``And you a lady; never.'' Already he had tied the tail round
her. She clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a {}``Good-bye,
Wendy,'' he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutes she was
borne out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon.

The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Pale rays
of light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there was to be
heard a sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in
the world: the mermaids calling to the moon.

Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A
tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but
on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of
them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect
on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating
within him. It was saying, {}``To die will be an awfully big adventure.''


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 9. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Never}}
\textit{\emph{Bird}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 9. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Never}}
\textit{\emph{Bird}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 9}

The last sound Peter heard before he was quite alone were the mermaids
retiring one by one to their bedchambers under the sea. He was too
far away to hear their doors shut; but every door in the coral caves
where they live rings a tiny bell when it opens or closes (as in all
the nicest houses on the mainland), and he heard the bells.

Steadily the waters rose till they were nibbling at his feet; and
to pass the time until they made their final gulp, he watched the
only thing on the lagoon. He thought it was a piece of floating paper,
perhaps part of the kite, and wondered idly how long it would take
to drift ashore.

Presently he noticed as an odd thing that it was undoubtedly out upon
the lagoon with some definite purpose, for it was fighting the tide,
and sometimes winning; and when it won, Peter, always sympathetic
to the weaker side, could not help clapping; it was such a gallant
piece of paper.

It was not really a piece of paper; it was the Never bird, making
desperate efforts to reach Peter on the nest. By working her wings,
in a way she had learned since the nest fell into the water, she was
able to some extent to guide her strange craft, but by the time Peter
recognised her she was very exhausted. She had come to save him, to
give him her nest, though there were eggs in it. I rather wonder at
the bird, for though he had been nice to her, he had also sometimes
tormented her. I can suppose only that, like Mrs.\ Darling and the
rest of them, she was melted because he had all his first teeth.

She called out to him what she had come for, and he called out to
her what she was doing there; but of course neither of them understood
the other's language. In fanciful stories people can talk to the birds
freely, and I wish for the moment I could pretend that this were such
a story, and say that Peter replied intelligently to the Never bird;
but truth is best, and I want to tell you only what really happened.
Well, not only could they not understand each other, but they forgot
their manners.

{}``I \mbox{---} want \mbox{---} you \mbox{---} to \mbox{---}
get \mbox{---} into \mbox{---} the \mbox{---} nest,'' the bird
called, speaking as slowly and distinctly as possible, {}``and \mbox{---}
then \mbox{---} you \mbox{---} can \mbox{---} drift \mbox{---}
ashore, but \mbox{---} I \mbox{---} am \mbox{---} too \mbox{---}
tired \mbox{---} to \mbox{---} bring \mbox{---} it \mbox{---}
any \mbox{---} nearer \mbox{---} so \mbox{---} you \mbox{---}
must \mbox{---} try \mbox{---} to \mbox{---} swim \mbox{---}
to \mbox{---} it.''

{}``What are you quacking about?''\ Peter answered. {}``Why don't
you let the nest drift as usual?''\ 

{}``I \mbox{---} want \mbox{---} you \mbox{---}'' the bird said,
and repeated it all over.

Then Peter tried slow and distinct.

{}``What \mbox{---} are \mbox{---} you \mbox{---} quacking \mbox{---}
about?''\ and so on.

The Never bird became irritated; they have very short tempers.

{}``You dunderheaded little jay,'' she screamed, {}``Why don't
you do as I tell you?''\ 

Peter felt that she was calling him names, and at a venture he retorted
hotly:

{}``So are you!''\ 

Then rather curiously they both snapped out the same remark:

{}``Shut up!''\ 

{}``Shut up!''\ 

Nevertheless the bird was determined to save him if she could, and
by one last mighty effort she propelled the nest against the rock.
Then up she flew; deserting her eggs, so as to make her meaning clear.

Then at last he understood, and clutched the nest and waved his thanks
to the bird as she fluttered overhead. It was not to receive his thanks,
however, that she hung there in the sky; it was not even to watch
him get into the nest; it was to see what he did with her eggs.

There were two large white eggs, and Peter lifted them up and reflected.
The bird covered her face with her wings, so as not to see the last
of them; but she could not help peeping between the feathers.

I forget whether I have told you that there was a stave on the rock,
driven into it by some buccaneers of long ago to mark the site of
buried treasure. The children had discovered the glittering hoard,
and when in a mischievous mood used to fling showers of moidores,
diamonds, pearls and pieces of eight to the gulls, who pounced upon
them for food, and then flew away, raging at the scurvy trick that
had been played upon them. The stave was still there, and on it Starkey
had hung his hat, a deep tarpaulin, watertight, with a broad brim.
Peter put the eggs into this hat and set it on the lagoon. It floated
beautifully.

The Never bird saw at once what he was up to, and screamed her admiration
of him; and, alas, Peter crowed his agreement with her. Then he got
into the nest, reared the stave in it as a mast, and hung up his shirt
for a sail. At the same moment the bird fluttered down upon the hat
and once more sat snugly on her eggs. She drifted in one direction,
and he was borne off in another, both cheering.

Of course when Peter landed he beached his barque in a place where
the bird would easily find it; but the hat was such a great success
that she abandoned the nest. It drifted about till it went to pieces,
and often Starkey came to the shore of the lagoon, and with many bitter
feelings watched the bird sitting on his hat. As we shall not see
her again, it may be worth mentioning here that all Never birds now
build in that shape of nest, with a broad brim on which the youngsters
take an airing.

Great were the rejoicings when Peter reached the home under the ground
almost as soon as Wendy, who had been carried hither and thither by
the kite. Every boy had adventures to tell; but perhaps the biggest
adventure of all was that they were several hours late for bed. This
so inflated them that they did various dodgy things to get staying
up still longer, such as demanding bandages; but Wendy, though glorying
in having them all home again safe and sound, was scandalised by the
lateness of the hour, and cried, {}``To bed, to bed,'' in a voice
that had to be obeyed. Next day, however, she was awfully tender,
and gave out bandages to every one, and they played till bed-time
at limping about and carrying their arms in slings.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 10. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Happy}}
\textit{\emph{Home}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 10. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Happy}}
\textit{\emph{Home}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 10}

One important result of the brush on the lagoon was that it made the
redskins their friends. Peter had saved Tiger Lily from a dreadful
fate, and now there was nothing she and her braves would not do for
him. All night they sat above, keeping watch over the home under the
ground and awaiting the big attack by the pirates which obviously
could not be much longer delayed. Even by day they hung about, smoking
the pipe of peace, and looking almost as if they wanted tit-bits to
eat.

They called Peter the Great White Father, prostrating themselves before
him; and he liked this tremendously, so that it was not really good
for him.

{}``The great white father,'' he would say to them in a very lordly
manner, as they grovelled at his feet, {}``is glad to see the Piccaninny
warriors protecting his wigwam from the pirates.''

{}``Me Tiger Lily,'' that lovely creature would reply. {}``Peter
Pan save me, me his velly nice friend. Me no let pirates hurt him.''

She was far too pretty to cringe in this way, but Peter thought it
his due, and he would answer condescendingly, {}``It is good. Peter
Pan has spoken.''

Always when he said, {}``Peter Pan has spoken,'' it meant that they
must now shut up, and they accepted it humbly in that spirit; but
they were by no means so respectful to the other boys, whom they looked
upon as just ordinary braves. They said {}``How-do?''\ to them,
and things like that; and what annoyed the boys was that Peter seemed
to think this all right.

Secretly Wendy sympathised with them a little, but she was far too
loyal a housewife to listen to any complaints against father. {}``Father
knows best,'' she always said, whatever her private opinion must
be. Her private opinion was that the redskins should not call her
a squaw.

We have now reached the evening that was to be known among them as
the Night of Nights, because of its adventures and their upshot. The
day, as if quietly gathering its forces, had been almost uneventful,
and now the redskins in their blankets were at their posts above,
while, below, the children were having their evening meal; all except
Peter, who had gone out to get the time. The way you got the time
on the island was to find the crocodile, and then stay near him till
the clock struck.

The meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat around the
board, guzzling in their greed; and really, what with their chatter
and recriminations, the noise, as Wendy said, was positively deafening.
To be sure, she did not mind noise, but she simply would not have
them grabbing things, and then excusing themselves by saying that
Tootles had pushed their elbow. There was a fixed rule that they must
never hit back at meals, but should refer the matter of dispute to
Wendy by raising the right arm politely and saying, {}``I complain
of so-and-so;'' but what usually happened was that they forgot to
do this or did it too much.

{}``Silence,'' cried Wendy when for the twentieth time she had told
them that they were not all to speak at once. {}``Is your mug empty,
Slightly darling?''\ 

{}``Not quite empty, mummy,'' Slightly said, after looking into
an imaginary mug.

{}``He hasn't even begun to drink his milk,'' Nibs interposed.

This was telling, and Slightly seized his chance.

{}``I complain of Nibs,'' he cried promptly.

John, however, had held up his hand first.

{}``Well, John?''\ 

{}``May I sit in Peter's chair, as he is not here?''\ 

{}``Sit in father's chair, John!''\ Wendy was scandalised. {}``Certainly
not.''

{}``He is not really our father,'' John answered. {}``He didn't
even know how a father does till I showed him.''

This was grumbling. {}``We complain of John,'' cried the twins.

Tootles held up his hand. He was so much the humblest of them, indeed
he was the only humble one, that Wendy was specially gentle with him.

{}``I don't suppose,'' Tootles said diffidently, {}``that I could
be father.''

{}``No, Tootles.''

Once Tootles began, which was not very often, he had a silly way of
going on.

{}``As I can't be father,'' he said heavily, {}``I don't suppose,
Michael, you would let me be baby?''\ 

{}``No, I won't,'' Michael rapped out. He was already in his basket.

{}``As I can't be baby,'' Tootles said, getting heavier and heavier
and heavier, {}``do you think I could be a twin?''\ 

{}``No, indeed,'' replied the twins; {}``it's awfully difficult
to be a twin.''

{}``As I can't be anything important,'' said Tootles, {}``would
any of you like to see me do a trick?''\ 

{}``No,'' they all replied.

Then at last he stopped. {}``I hadn't really any hope,'' he said.

The hateful telling broke out again.

{}``Slightly is coughing on the table.''

{}``The twins began with cheese-cakes.''

{}``Curly is taking both butter and honey.''

{}``Nibs is speaking with his mouth full.''

{}``I complain of the twins.''

{}``I complain of Curly.''

{}``I complain of Nibs.''

{}``Oh dear, oh dear,'' cried Wendy, {}``I'm sure I sometimes think
that spinsters are to be envied.''

She told them to clear away, and sat down to her work-basket, a heavy
load of stockings and every knee with a hole in it as usual.

{}``Wendy,'' remonstrated Michael, {}``I'm too big for a cradle.''

{}``I must have somebody in a cradle,'' she said almost tartly,
{}``and you are the littlest. A cradle is such a nice homely thing
to have about a house.''

While she sewed they played around her; such a group of happy faces
and dancing limbs lit up by that romantic fire. It had become a very
familiar scene, this, in the home under the ground, but we are looking
on it for the last time.

There was a step above, and Wendy, you may be sure, was the first
to recognize it.

{}``Children, I hear your father's step. He likes you to meet him
at the door.''

Above, the redskins crouched before Peter.

{}``Watch well, braves. I have spoken.''

And then, as so often before, the gay children dragged him from his
tree. As so often before, but never again.

He had brought nuts for the boys as well as the correct time for Wendy.

{}``Peter, you just spoil them, you know,'' Wendy simpered.

{}``Ah, old lady,'' said Peter, hanging up his gun.

{}``It was me told him mothers are called old lady,'' Michael whispered
to Curly.

{}``I complain of Michael,'' said Curly instantly.

The first twin came to Peter. {}``Father, we want to dance.''

{}``Dance away, my little man,'' said Peter, who was in high good
humour.

{}``But we want you to dance.''

Peter was really the best dancer among them, but he pretended to be
scandalised.

{}``Me! My old bones would rattle!''\ 

{}``And mummy too.''

{}``What,'' cried Wendy, {}``the mother of such an armful, dance!''\ 

{}``But on a Saturday night,'' Slightly insinuated.

It was not really Saturday night, at least it may have been, for they
had long lost count of the days; but always if they wanted to do anything
special they said this was Saturday night, and then they did it.

{}``Of course it is Saturday night, Peter,'' Wendy said, relenting.

{}``People of our figure, Wendy!''\ 

{}``But it is only among our own progeny.''

{}``True, true.''

So they were told they could dance, but they must put on their nighties
first.

{}``Ah, old lady,'' Peter said aside to Wendy, warming himself by
the fire and looking down at her as she sat turning a heel, {}``there
is nothing more pleasant of an evening for you and me when the day's
toil is over than to rest by the fire with the little ones near by.''

{}``It is sweet, Peter, isn't it?''\ Wendy said, frightfully gratified.
{}``Peter, I think Curly has your nose.''

{}``Michael takes after you.''

She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

{}``Dear Peter,'' she said, {}``with such a large family, of course,
I have now passed my best, but you don't want to change me, do you?''\ 

{}``No, Wendy.''

Certainly he did not want a change, but he looked at her uncomfortably,
blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.

{}``Peter, what is it?''\ 

{}``I was just thinking,'' he said, a little scared. {}``It is
only make-believe, isn't it, that I am their father?''\ 

{}``Oh yes,'' Wendy said primly.

{}``You see,'' he continued apologetically, {}``it would make me
seem so old to be their real father.''

{}``But they are ours, Peter, yours and mine.''

{}``But not really, Wendy?''\ he asked anxiously.

{}``Not if you don't wish it,'' she replied; and she distinctly
heard his sigh of relief. {}``Peter,'' she asked, trying to speak
firmly, {}``what are your exact feelings to me?''\ 

{}``Those of a devoted son, Wendy.''

{}``I thought so,'' she said, and went and sat by herself at the
extreme end of the room.

{}``You are so queer,'' he said, frankly puzzled, {}``and Tiger
Lily is just the same. There is something she wants to be to me, but
she says it is not my mother.''

{}``No, indeed, it is not,'' Wendy replied with frightful emphasis.
Now we know why she was prejudiced against the redskins.

{}``Then what is it?''\ 

{}``It isn't for a lady to tell.''

{}``Oh, very well,'' Peter said, a little nettled. {}``Perhaps
Tinker Bell will tell me.''

{}``Oh yes, Tinker Bell will tell you,'' Wendy retorted scornfully.
{}``She is an abandoned little creature.''

Here Tink, who was in her bedroom, eavesdropping, squeaked out something
impudent.

{}``She says she glories in being abandoned,'' Peter interpreted.

He had a sudden idea. {}``Perhaps Tink wants to be my mother?''\ 

{}``You silly ass!''\ cried Tinker Bell in a passion.

She had said it so often that Wendy needed no translation.

{}``I almost agree with her,'' Wendy snapped. Fancy Wendy snapping!
But she had been much tried, and she little knew what was to happen
before the night was out. If she had known she would not have snapped.

None of them knew. Perhaps it was best not to know. Their ignorance
gave them one more glad hour; and as it was to be their last hour
on the island, let us rejoice that there were sixty glad minutes in
it. They sang and danced in their night-gowns. Such a deliciously
creepy song it was, in which they pretended to be frightened at their
own shadows, little witting that so soon shadows would close in upon
them, from whom they would shrink in real fear. So uproariously gay
was the dance, and how they buffeted each other on the bed and out
of it! It was a pillow fight rather than a dance, and when it was
finished, the pillows insisted on one bout more, like partners who
know that they may never meet again. The stories they told, before
it was time for Wendy's good-night story! Even Slightly tried to tell
a story that night, but the beginning was so fearfully dull that it
appalled not only the others but himself, and he said happily:

{}``Yes, it is a dull beginning. I say, let us pretend that it is
the end.''

And then at last they all got into bed for Wendy's story, the story
they loved best, the story Peter hated. Usually when she began to
tell this story he left the room or put his hands over his ears; and
possibly if he had done either of those things this time they might
all still be on the island. But to-night he remained on his stool;
and we shall see what happened.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 11. \textit{\emph{Wendy's}} \textit{\emph{Story}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 11. \textit{\emph{Wendy's}}
\textit{\emph{Story}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 11}

{}``Listen, then,'' said Wendy, settling down to her story, with
Michael at her feet and seven boys in the bed. {}``There was once
a gentleman\mbox{---}''

{}``I had rather he had been a lady,'' Curly said.

{}``I wish he had been a white rat,'' said Nibs.

{}``Quiet,'' their mother admonished them. {}``There was a lady
also, and\mbox{---}''

{}``Oh, mummy,'' cried the first twin, {}``you mean that there
is a lady also, don't you? She is not dead, is she?''\ 

{}``Oh, no.''

{}``I am awfully glad she isn't dead,'' said Tootles. {}``Are you
glad, John?''\ 

{}``Of course I am.''

{}``Are you glad, Nibs?''\ 

{}``Rather.''

{}``Are you glad, Twins?''\ 

{}``We are glad.''

{}``Oh dear,'' sighed Wendy.

{}``Little less noise there,'' Peter called out, determined that
she should have fair play, however beastly a story it might be in
his opinion.

{}``The gentleman's name,'' Wendy continued, {}``was Mr.\ Darling,
and her name was Mrs.\ Darling.''

{}``I knew them,'' John said, to annoy the others.

{}``I think I knew them,'' said Michael rather doubtfully.

{}``They were married, you know,'' explained Wendy, {}``and what
do you think they had?''\ 

{}``White rats,'' cried Nibs, inspired.

{}``No.''

{}``It's awfully puzzling,'' said Tootles, who knew the story by
heart.

{}``Quiet, Tootles. They had three descendants.''

{}``What is descendants?''\ 

{}``Well, you are one, Twin.''

{}``Did you hear that, John? I am a descendant.''

{}``Descendants are only children,'' said John.

{}``Oh dear, oh dear,'' sighed Wendy. {}``Now these three children
had a faithful nurse called Nana; but Mr.\ Darling was angry with
her and chained her up in the yard, and so all the children flew away.''

{}``It's an awfully good story,'' said Nibs.

{}``They flew away,'' Wendy continued, {}``to the Neverland, where
the lost children are.''

{}``I just thought they did,'' Curly broke in excitedly. {}``I
don't know how it is, but I just thought they did!''\ 

{}``O Wendy,'' cried Tootles, {}``was one of the lost children
called Tootles?''\ 

{}``Yes, he was.''

{}``I am in a story. Hurrah, I am in a story, Nibs.''

{}``Hush. Now I want you to consider the feelings of the unhappy
parents with all their children flown away.''

{}``Oo!''\ they all moaned, though they were not really considering
the feelings of the unhappy parents one jot.

{}``Think of the empty beds!''\ 

{}``Oo!''\ 

{}``It's awfully sad,'' the first twin said cheerfully.

{}``I don't see how it can have a happy ending,'' said the second
twin. {}``Do you, Nibs?''\ 

{}``I'm frightfully anxious.''

{}``If you knew how great is a mother's love,'' Wendy told them
triumphantly, {}``you would have no fear.'' She had now come to
the part that Peter hated.

{}``I do like a mother's love,'' said Tootles, hitting Nibs with
a pillow. {}``Do you like a mother's love, Nibs?''\ 

{}``I do just,'' said Nibs, hitting back.

{}``You see,'' Wendy said complacently, {}``our heroine knew that
the mother would always leave the window open for her children to
fly back by; so they stayed away for years and had a lovely time.''

{}``Did they ever go back?''\ 

{}``Let us now,'' said Wendy, bracing herself up for her finest
effort, {}``take a peep into the future''; and they all gave themselves
the twist that makes peeps into the future easier. {}``Years have
rolled by, and who is this elegant lady of uncertain age alighting
at London Station?''\ 

{}``O Wendy, who is she?''\ cried Nibs, every bit as excited as
if he didn't know.

{}``Can it be\mbox{---}yes\mbox{---}no\mbox{---}it is\mbox{---}the
fair Wendy!''\ 

{}``Oh!''\ 

{}``And who are the two noble portly figures accompanying her, now
grown to man's estate? Can they be John and Michael? They are!''\ 

{}``Oh!''\ 

{}```See, dear brothers,' says Wendy pointing upwards, `there is
the window still standing open. Ah, now we are rewarded for our sublime
faith in a mother's love.' So up they flew to their mummy and daddy,
and pen cannot describe the happy scene, over which we draw a veil.''

That was the story, and they were as pleased with it as the fair narrator
herself. Everything just as it should be, you see. Off we skip like
the most heartless things in the world, which is what children are,
but so attractive; and we have an entirely selfish time, and then
when we have need of special attention we nobly return for it, confident
that we shall be rewarded instead of smacked.

So great indeed was their faith in a mother's love that they felt
they could afford to be callous for a bit longer.

But there was one there who knew better, and when Wendy finished he
uttered a hollow groan.

{}``What is it, Peter?''\ she cried, running to him, thinking he
was ill. She felt him solicitously, lower down than his chest. {}``Where
is it, Peter?''\ 

{}``It isn't that kind of pain,'' Peter replied darkly.

{}``Then what kind is it?''\ 

{}``Wendy, you are wrong about mothers.''

They all gathered round him in affright, so alarming was his agitation;
and with a fine candour he told them what he had hitherto concealed.

{}``Long ago,'' he said, {}``I thought like you that my mother
would always keep the window open for me, so I stayed away for moons
and moons and moons, and then flew back; but the window was barred,
for mother had forgotten all about me, and there was another little
boy sleeping in my bed.''

I am not sure that this was true, but Peter thought it was true; and
it scared them.

{}``Are you sure mothers are like that?''\ 

{}``Yes.''

So this was the truth about mothers. The toads!

Still it is best to be careful; and no one knows so quickly as a child
when he should give in. {}``Wendy, let us go home,'' cried John
and Michael together.

{}``Yes,'' she said, clutching them.

{}``Not to-night?''\ asked the lost boys bewildered. They knew
in what they called their hearts that one can get on quite well without
a mother, and that it is only the mothers who think you can't.

{}``At once,'' Wendy replied resolutely, for the horrible thought
had come to her: {}``Perhaps mother is in half mourning by this time.''

This dread made her forgetful of what must be Peter's feelings, and
she said to him rather sharply, {}``Peter, will you make the necessary
arrangements?''\ 

{}``If you wish it,'' he replied, as coolly as if she had asked
him to pass the nuts.

Not so much as a sorry-to-lose-you between them! If she did not mind
the parting, he was going to show her, was Peter, that neither did
he.

But of course he cared very much; and he was so full of wrath against
grown-ups, who, as usual, were spoiling everything, that as soon as
he got inside his tree he breathed intentionally quick short breaths
at the rate of about five to a second. He did this because there is
a saying in the Neverland that, every time you breathe, a grown-up
dies; and Peter was killing them off vindictively as fast as possible.

Then having given the necessary instructions to the redskins he returned
to the home, where an unworthy scene had been enacted in his absence.
Panic-stricken at the thought of losing Wendy the lost boys had advanced
upon her threateningly.

{}``It will be worse than before she came,'' they cried.

{}``We shan't let her go.''

{}``Let's keep her prisoner.''

{}``Ay, chain her up.''

In her extremity an instinct told her to which of them to turn.

{}``Tootles,'' she cried, {}``I appeal to you.''

Was it not strange? She appealed to Tootles, quite the silliest one.

Grandly, however, did Tootles respond. For that one moment he dropped
his silliness and spoke with dignity.

{}``I am just Tootles,'' he said, {}``and nobody minds me. But
the first who does not behave to Wendy like an English gentleman I
will blood him severely.''

He drew back his hanger; and for that instant his sun was at noon.
The others held back uneasily. Then Peter returned, and they saw at
once that they would get no support from him. He would keep no girl
in the Neverland against her will.

{}``Wendy,'' he said, striding up and down, {}``I have asked the
redskins to guide you through the wood, as flying tires you so.''

{}``Thank you, Peter.''

{}``Then,'' he continued, in the short sharp voice of one accustomed
to be obeyed, {}``Tinker Bell will take you across the sea. Wake
her, Nibs.''

Nibs had to knock twice before he got an answer, though Tink had really
been sitting up in bed listening for some time.

{}``Who are you? How dare you? Go away,'' she cried.

{}``You are to get up, Tink,'' Nibs called, {}``and take Wendy
on a journey.''

Of course Tink had been delighted to hear that Wendy was going; but
she was jolly well determined not to be her courier, and she said
so in still more offensive language. Then she pretended to be asleep
again.

{}``She says she won't!''\ Nibs exclaimed, aghast at such insubordination,
whereupon Peter went sternly toward the young lady's chamber.

{}``Tink,'' he rapped out, {}``if you don't get up and dress at
once I will open the curtains, and then we shall all see you in your
negligee.''

This made her leap to the floor. {}``Who said I wasn't getting up?''\ 
she cried.

In the meantime the boys were gazing very forlornly at Wendy, now
equipped with John and Michael for the journey. By this time they
were dejected, not merely because they were about to lose her, but
also because they felt that she was going off to something nice to
which they had not been invited. Novelty was beckoning to them as
usual.

Crediting them with a nobler feeling Wendy melted.

{}``Dear ones,'' she said, {}``if you will all come with me I feel
almost sure I can get my father and mother to adopt you.''

The invitation was meant specially for Peter, but each of the boys
was thinking exclusively of himself, and at once they jumped with
joy.

{}``But won't they think us rather a handful?''\ Nibs asked in
the middle of his jump.

{}``Oh no,'' said Wendy, rapidly thinking it out, {}``it will only
mean having a few beds in the drawing-room; they can be hidden behind
the screens on first Thursdays.''

{}``Peter, can we go?''\ they all cried imploringly. They took
it for granted that if they went he would go also, but really they
scarcely cared. Thus children are ever ready, when novelty knocks,
to desert their dearest ones.

{}``All right,'' Peter replied with a bitter smile, and immediately
they rushed to get their things.

{}``And now, Peter,'' Wendy said, thinking she had put everything
right, {}``I am going to give you your medicine before you go.''
She loved to give them medicine, and undoubtedly gave them too much.
Of course it was only water, but it was out of a bottle, and she always
shook the bottle and counted the drops, which gave it a certain medicinal
quality. On this occasion, however, she did not give Peter his draught,
for just as she had prepared it, she saw a look on his face that made
her heart sink.

{}``Get your things, Peter,'' she cried, shaking.

{}``No,'' he answered, pretending indifference, {}``I am not going
with you, Wendy.''

{}``Yes, Peter.''

{}``No.''

To show that her departure would leave him unmoved, he skipped up
and down the room, playing gaily on his heartless pipes. She had to
run about after him, though it was rather undignified.

{}``To find your mother,'' she coaxed.

Now, if Peter had ever quite had a mother, he no longer missed her.
He could do very well without one. He had thought them out, and remembered
only their bad points.

{}``No, no,'' he told Wendy decisively; {}``perhaps she would say
I was old, and I just want always to be a little boy and to have fun.''

{}``But, Peter\mbox{---}\char`\"{}

{}``No.''

And so the others had to be told.

{}``Peter isn't coming.''

Peter not coming! They gazed blankly at him, their sticks over their
backs, and on each stick a bundle. Their first thought was that if
Peter was not going he had probably changed his mind about letting
them go.

But he was far too proud for that. {}``If you find your mothers,''
he said darkly, {}``I hope you will like them.''

The awful cynicism of this made an uncomfortable impression, and most
of them began to look rather doubtful. After all, their faces said,
were they not noodles to want to go?

{}``Now then,'' cried Peter, {}``no fuss, no blubbering; good-bye,
Wendy''; and he held out his hand cheerily, quite as if they must
really go now, for he had something important to do.

She had to take his hand, and there was no indication that he would
prefer a thimble.

{}``You will remember about changing your flannels, Peter?''\ she
said, lingering over him. She was always so particular about their
flannels.

{}``Yes.''

{}``And you will take your medicine?''\ 

{}``Yes.''

That seemed to be everything, and an awkward pause followed. Peter,
however, was not the kind that breaks down before other people. {}``Are
you ready, Tinker Bell?''\ he called out.

{}``Ay, ay.''

{}``Then lead the way.''

Tink darted up the nearest tree; but no one followed her, for it was
at this moment that the pirates made their dreadful attack upon the
redskins. Above, where all had been so still, the air was rent with
shrieks and the clash of steel. Below, there was dead silence. Mouths
opened and remained open. Wendy fell on her knees, but her arms were
extended toward Peter. All arms were extended to him, as if suddenly
blown in his direction; they were beseeching him mutely not to desert
them. As for Peter, he seized his sword, the same he thought he had
slain Barbecue with, and the lust of battle was in his eye.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 12. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Children}}
\textit{\emph{Are}} \textit{\emph{Carried}} \textit{\emph{Off}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 12. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Children}}
\textit{\emph{Are}} \textit{\emph{Carried}} \textit{\emph{Off}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 12}

The pirate attack had been a complete surprise: a sure proof that
the unscrupulous Hook had conducted it improperly, for to surprise
redskins fairly is beyond the wit of the white man.

By all the unwritten laws of savage warfare it is always the redskin
who attacks, and with the wiliness of his race he does it just before
the dawn, at which time he knows the courage of the whites to be at
its lowest ebb. The white men have in the meantime made a rude stockade
on the summit of yonder undulating ground, at the foot of which a
stream runs, for it is destruction to be too far from water. There
they await the onslaught, the inexperienced ones clutching their revolvers
and treading on twigs, but the old hands sleeping tranquilly until
just before the dawn. Through the long black night the savage scouts
wriggle, snake-like, among the grass without stirring a blade. The
brushwood closes behind them, as silently as sand into which a mole
has dived. Not a sound is to be heard, save when they give vent to
a wonderful imitation of the lonely call of the coyote. The cry is
answered by other braves; and some of them do it even better than
the coyotes, who are not very good at it. So the chill hours wear
on, and the long suspense is horribly trying to the paleface who has
to live through it for the first time; but to the trained hand those
ghastly calls and still ghastlier silences are but an intimation of
how the night is marching.

That this was the usual procedure was so well known to Hook that in
disregarding it he cannot be excused on the plea of ignorance.

The Piccaninnies, on their part, trusted implicitly to his honour,
and their whole action of the night stands out in marked contrast
to his. They left nothing undone that was consistent with the reputation
of their tribe. With that alertness of the senses which is at once
the marvel and despair of civilised peoples, they knew that the pirates
were on the island from the moment one of them trod on a dry stick;
and in an incredibly short space of time the coyote cries began. Every
foot of ground between the spot where Hook had landed his forces and
the home under the trees was stealthily examined by braves wearing
their mocassins with the heels in front. They found only one hillock
with a stream at its base, so that Hook had no choice; here he must
establish himself and wait for just before the dawn. Everything being
thus mapped out with almost diabolical cunning, the main body of the
redskins folded their blankets around them, and in the phlegmatic
manner that is to them, the pearl of manhood squatted above the children's
home, awaiting the cold moment when they should deal pale death.

Here dreaming, though wide-awake, of the exquisite tortures to which
they were to put him at break of day, those confiding savages were
found by the treacherous Hook. From the accounts afterwards supplied
by such of the scouts as escaped the carnage, he does not seem even
to have paused at the rising ground, though it is certain that in
that grey light he must have seen it: no thought of waiting to be
attacked appears from first to last to have visited his subtle mind;
he would not even hold off till the night was nearly spent; on he
pounded with no policy but to fall to. What could the bewildered scouts
do, masters as they were of every war-like artifice save this one,
but trot helplessly after him, exposing themselves fatally to view,
while they gave pathetic utterance to the coyote cry.

Around the brave Tiger Lily were a dozen of her stoutest warriors,
and they suddenly saw the perfidious pirates bearing down upon them.
Fell from their eyes then the film through which they had looked at
victory. No more would they torture at the stake. For them the happy
hunting-grounds was now. They knew it; but as their father's sons
they acquitted themselves. Even then they had time to gather in a
phalanx that would have been hard to break had they risen quickly,
but this they were forbidden to do by the traditions of their race.
It is written that the noble savage must never express surprise in
the presence of the white. Thus terrible as the sudden appearance
of the pirates must have been to them, they remained stationary for
a moment, not a muscle moving; as if the foe had come by invitation.
Then, indeed, the tradition gallantly upheld, they seized their weapons,
and the air was torn with the war-cry; but it was now too late.

It is no part of ours to describe what was a massacre rather than
a fight. Thus perished many of the flower of the Piccaninny tribe.
Not all unavenged did they die, for with Lean Wolf fell Alf Mason,
to disturb the Spanish Main no more, and among others who bit the
dust were Geo.\ Scourie, Chas.\ Turley, and the Alsatian Foggerty.
Turley fell to the tomahawk of the terrible Panther, who ultimately
cut a way through the pirates with Tiger Lily and a small remnant
of the tribe.

To what extent Hook is to blame for his tactics on this occasion is
for the historian to decide. Had he waited on the rising ground till
the proper hour he and his men would probably have been butchered;
and in judging him it is only fair to take this into account. What
he should perhaps have done was to acquaint his opponents that he
proposed to follow a new method. On the other hand, this, as destroying
the element of surprise, would have made his strategy of no avail,
so that the whole question is beset with difficulties. One cannot
at least withhold a reluctant admiration for the wit that had conceived
so bold a scheme, and the fell genius with which it was carried out.

What were his own feelings about himself at that triumphant moment?
Fain would his dogs have known, as breathing heavily and wiping their
cutlasses, they gathered at a discreet distance from his hook, and
squinted through their ferret eyes at this extraordinary man. Elation
must have been in his heart, but his face did not reflect it: ever
a dark and solitary enigma, he stood aloof from his followers in spirit
as in substance.

The night's work was not yet over, for it was not the redskins he
had come out to destroy; they were but the bees to be smoked, so that
he should get at the honey. It was Pan he wanted, Pan and Wendy and
their band, but chiefly Pan.

Peter was such a small boy that one tends to wonder at the man's hatred
of him. True he had flung Hook's arm to the crocodile, but even this
and the increased insecurity of life to which it led, owing to the
crocodile's pertinacity, hardly account for a vindictiveness so relentless
and malignant. The truth is that there was a something about Peter
which goaded the pirate captain to frenzy. It was not his courage,
it was not his engaging appearance, it was not\mbox{---}. There is
no beating about the bush, for we know quite well what it was, and
have got to tell. It was Peter's cockiness.

This had got on Hook's nerves; it made his iron claw twitch, and at
night it disturbed him like an insect. While Peter lived, the tortured
man felt that he was a lion in a cage into which a sparrow had come.

The question now was how to get down the trees, or how to get his
dogs down? He ran his greedy eyes over them, searching for the thinnest
ones. They wriggled uncomfortably, for they knew he would not scruple
to ram them down with poles.

In the meantime, what of the boys? We have seen them at the first
clang of the weapons, turned as it were into stone figures, open-mouthed,
all appealing with outstretched arms to Peter; and we return to them
as their mouths close, and their arms fall to their sides. The pandemonium
above has ceased almost as suddenly as it arose, passed like a fierce
gust of wind; but they know that in the passing it has determined
their fate.

Which side had won?

The pirates, listening avidly at the mouths of the trees, heard the
question put by every boy, and alas, they also heard Peter's answer.

{}``If the redskins have won,'' he said, {}``they will beat the
tom-tom; it is always their sign of victory.''

Now Smee had found the tom-tom, and was at that moment sitting on
it. {}``You will never hear the tom-tom again,'' he muttered, but
inaudibly of course, for strict silence had been enjoined. To his
amazement Hook signed him to beat the tom-tom, and slowly there came
to Smee an understanding of the dreadful wickedness of the order.
Never, probably, had this simple man admired Hook so much.

Twice Smee beat upon the instrument, and then stopped to listen gleefully.

{}``The tom-tom,'' the miscreants heard Peter cry; {}``an Indian
victory!''\ 

The doomed children answered with a cheer that was music to the black
hearts above, and almost immediately they repeated their good-byes
to Peter. This puzzled the pirates, but all their other feelings were
swallowed by a base delight that the enemy were about to come up the
trees. They smirked at each other and rubbed their hands. Rapidly
and silently Hook gave his orders: one man to each tree, and the others
to arrange themselves in a line two yards apart.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 13\textit{\emph{. Do}} \textit{\emph{You}}
\textit{\emph{Believe}} \textit{\emph{in}} \textit{\emph{Fairies}}?}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 13\textit{\emph{. Do}} \textit{\emph{You}}
\textit{\emph{Believe}} \textit{\emph{in}} \textit{\emph{Fairies}}?}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 13}

The more quickly this horror is disposed of the better. The first
to emerge from his tree was Curly. He rose out of it into the arms
of Cecco, who flung him to Smee, who flung him to Starkey, who flung
him to Bill Jukes, who flung him to Noodler, and so he was tossed
from one to another till he fell at the feet of the black pirate.
All the boys were plucked from their trees in this ruthless manner;
and several of them were in the air at a time, like bales of goods
flung from hand to hand.

A different treatment was accorded to Wendy, who came last. With ironical
politeness Hook raised his hat to her, and, offering her his arm,
escorted her to the spot where the others were being gagged. He did
it with such an air, he was so frightfully \textit{distingu\'{e}},
that she was too fascinated to cry out. She was only a little girl.

Perhaps it is tell-tale to divulge that for a moment Hook entranced
her, and we tell on her only because her slip led to strange results.
Had she haughtily unhanded him (and we should have loved to write
it of her), she would have been hurled through the air like the others,
and then Hook would probably not have been present at the tying of
the children; and had he not been at the tying he would not have discovered
Slightly's secret, and without the secret he could not presently have
made his foul attempt on Peter's life.

They were tied to prevent their flying away, doubled up with their
knees close to their ears; and for the trussing of them the black
pirate had cut a rope into nine equal pieces. All went well until
Slightly's turn came, when he was found to be like those irritating
parcels that use up all the string in going round and leave no tags
with which to tie a knot. The pirates kicked him in their rage, just
as you kick the parcel (though in fairness you should kick the string);
and strange to say it was Hook who told them to belay their violence.
His lip was curled with malicious triumph. While his dogs were merely
sweating because every time they tried to pack the unhappy lad tight
in one part he bulged out in another, Hook's master mind had gone
far beneath Slightly's surface, probing not for effects but for causes;
and his exultation showed that he had found them. Slightly, white
to the gills, knew that Hook had surprised his secret, which was this,
that no boy so blown out could use a tree wherein an average man need
stick. Poor Slightly, most wretched of all the children now, for he
was in a panic about Peter, bitterly regretted what he had done. Madly
addicted to the drinking of water when he was hot, he had swelled
in consequence to his present girth, and instead of reducing himself
to fit his tree he had, unknown to the others, whittled his tree to
make it fit him.

Sufficient of this Hook guessed to persuade him that Peter at last
lay at his mercy, but no word of the dark design that now formed in
the subterranean caverns of his mind crossed his lips; he merely signed
that the captives were to be conveyed to the ship, and that he would
be alone.

How to convey them? Hunched up in their ropes they might indeed be
rolled down hill like barrels, but most of the way lay through a morass.
Again Hook's genius surmounted difficulties. He indicated that the
little house must be used as a conveyance. The children were flung
into it, four stout pirates raised it on their shoulders, the others
fell in behind, and singing the hateful pirate chorus the strange
procession set off through the wood. I don't know whether any of the
children were crying; if so, the singing drowned the sound; but as
the little house disappeared in the forest, a brave though tiny jet
of smoke issued from its chimney as if defying Hook.

Hook saw it, and it did Peter a bad service. It dried up any trickle
of pity for him that may have remained in the pirate's infuriated
breast.

The first thing he did on finding himself alone in the fast falling
night was to tiptoe to Slightly's tree, and make sure that it provided
him with a passage. Then for long he remained brooding; his hat of
ill omen on the sward, so that any gentle breeze which had arisen
might play refreshingly through his hair. Dark as were his thoughts
his blue eyes were as soft as the periwinkle. Intently he listened
for any sound from the nether world, but all was as silent below as
above; the house under the ground seemed to be but one more empty
tenement in the void. Was that boy asleep, or did he stand waiting
at the foot of Slightly's tree, with his dagger in his hand?

There was no way of knowing, save by going down. Hook let his cloak
slip softly to the ground, and then biting his lips till a lewd blood
stood on them, he stepped into the tree. He was a brave man, but for
a moment he had to stop there and wipe his brow, which was dripping
like a candle. Then, silently, he let himself go into the unknown.

He arrived unmolested at the foot of the shaft, and stood still again,
biting at his breath, which had almost left him. As his eyes became
accustomed to the dim light various objects in the home under the
trees took shape; but the only one on which his greedy gaze rested,
long sought for and found at last, was the great bed. On the bed lay
Peter fast asleep.

Unaware of the tragedy being enacted above, Peter had continued, for
a little time after the children left, to play gaily on his pipes:
no doubt rather a forlorn attempt to prove to himself that he did
not care. Then he decided not to take his medicine, so as to grieve
Wendy. Then he lay down on the bed outside the coverlet, to vex her
still more; for she had always tucked them inside it, because you
never know that you may not grow chilly at the turn of the night.
Then he nearly cried; but it struck him how indignant she would be
if he laughed instead; so he laughed a haughty laugh and fell asleep
in the middle of it.

Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were more painful
than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not be separated
from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to
do, I think, with the riddle of his existence. At such times it had
been Wendy's custom to take him out of bed and sit with him on her
lap, soothing him in dear ways of her own invention, and when he grew
calmer to put him back to bed before he quite woke up, so that he
should not know of the indignity to which she had subjected him. But
on this occasion he had fallen at once into a dreamless sleep. One
arm dropped over the edge of the bed, one leg was arched, and the
unfinished part of his laugh was stranded on his mouth, which was
open, showing the little pearls.

Thus defenceless Hook found him. He stood silent at the foot of the
tree looking across the chamber at his enemy. Did no feeling of compassion
disturb his sombre breast? The man was not wholly evil; he loved flowers
(I have been told) and sweet music (he was himself no mean performer
on the harpsichord); and, let it be frankly admitted, the idyllic
nature of the scene stirred him profoundly. Mastered by his better
self he would have returned reluctantly up the tree, but for one thing.

What stayed him was Peter's impertinent appearance as he slept. The
open mouth, the drooping arm, the arched knee: they were such a personification
of cockiness as, taken together, will never again, one may hope, be
presented to eyes so sensitive to their offensiveness. They steeled
Hook's heart. If his rage had broken him into a hundred pieces every
one of them would have disregarded the incident, and leapt at the
sleeper.

Though a light from the one lamp shone dimly on the bed, Hook stood
in darkness himself, and at the first stealthy step forward he discovered
an obstacle, the door of Slightly's tree. It did not entirely fill
the aperture, and he had been looking over it. Feeling for the catch,
he found to his fury that it was low down, beyond his reach. To his
disordered brain it seemed then that the irritating quality in Peter's
face and figure visibly increased, and he rattled the door and flung
himself against it. Was his enemy to escape him after all?

But what was that? The red in his eye had caught sight of Peter's
medicine standing on a ledge within easy reach. He fathomed what it
was straightaway, and immediately knew that the sleeper was in his
power.

Lest he should be taken alive, Hook always carried about his person
a dreadful drug, blended by himself of all the death-dealing drugs
that had come into his possession. These he had boiled down into a
yellow liquid quite unknown to science, which was probably the most
virulent poison in existence.

Five drops of this he now added to Peter's cup. His hand shook, but
it was in exultation rather than in shame. As he did it he avoided
glancing at the sleeper, but not lest pity should unnerve him; merely
to avoid spilling. Then one long gloating look he cast upon his victim,
and turning, wormed his way with difficulty up the tree. As he emerged
at the top he looked the very spirit of evil breaking from its hole.
Donning his hat at its most rakish angle, he wound his cloak around
him, holding one end in front as if to conceal his person from the
night, of which it was the blackest part, and muttering strangely
to himself, stole away through the trees.

Peter slept on. The light guttered and went out, leaving the tenement
in darkness; but still he slept. It must have been not less than ten
o'clock by the crocodile, when he suddenly sat up in his bed, wakened
by he knew not what. It was a soft cautious tapping on the door of
his tree.

Soft and cautious, but in that stillness it was sinister. Peter felt
for his dagger till his hand gripped it. Then he spoke.

{}``Who is that?''\ 

For long there was no answer: then again the knock.

{}``Who are you?''\ 

No answer.

He was thrilled, and he loved being thrilled. In two strides he reached
the door. Unlike Slightly's door, it filled the aperture, so that
he could not see beyond it, nor could the one knocking see him.

{}``I won't open unless you speak,'' Peter cried.

Then at last the visitor spoke, in a lovely bell-like voice.

{}``Let me in, Peter.''

It was Tink, and quickly he unbarred to her. She flew in excitedly,
her face flushed and her dress stained with mud.

{}``What is it?''\ 

{}``Oh, you could never guess!''\ she cried, and offered him three
guesses. {}``Out with it!''\ he shouted, and in one ungrammatical
sentence, as long as the ribbons that conjurers pull from their mouths,
she told of the capture of Wendy and the boys.

Peter's heart bobbed up and down as he listened. Wendy bound, and
on the pirate ship; she who loved everything to be just so!

{}``I'll rescue her!''\ he cried, leaping at his weapons. As he
leapt he thought of something he could do to please her. He could
take his medicine.

His hand closed on the fatal draught.

{}``No!''\ shrieked Tinker Bell, who had heard Hook mutter about
his deed as he sped through the forest.

{}``Why not?''\ 

{}``It is poisoned.''

{}``Poisoned? Who could have poisoned it?''\ 

{}``Hook.''

{}``Don't be silly. How could Hook have got down here?''\ 

Alas, Tinker Bell could not explain this, for even she did not know
the dark secret of Slightly's tree. Nevertheless Hook's words had
left no room for doubt. The cup was poisoned.

{}``Besides,'' said Peter, quite believing himself {}``I never
fell asleep.''

He raised the cup. No time for words now; time for deeds; and with
one of her lightning movements Tink got between his lips and the draught,
and drained it to the dregs.

{}``Why, Tink, how dare you drink my medicine?''\ 

But she did not answer. Already she was reeling in the air.

{}``What is the matter with you?''\ cried Peter, suddenly afraid.

{}``It was poisoned, Peter,'' she told him softly; {}``and now
I am going to be dead.''

{}``O Tink, did you drink it to save me?''\ 

{}``Yes.''

{}``But why, Tink?''\ 

Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in reply she alighted
on his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. She whispered in
his ear {}``You silly ass,'' and then, tottering to her chamber,
lay down on the bed.

His head almost filled the fourth wall of her little room as he knelt
near her in distress. Every moment her light was growing fainter;
and he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his
tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run
over it.

Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she
said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could
get well again if children believed in fairies.

Peter flung out his arms. There were no children there, and it was
night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Neverland,
and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls
in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.

{}``Do you believe?''\ he cried.

Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate.

She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again she
wasn't sure.

{}``What do you think?''\ she asked Peter.

{}``If you believe,'' he shouted to them, {}``clap your hands;
don't let Tink die.''

Many clapped.

Some didn't.

A few beasts hissed.

The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed
to their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; but already
Tink was saved. First her voice grew strong, then she popped out of
bed, then she was flashing through the room more merry and impudent
than ever. She never thought of thanking those who believed, but she
would have liked to get at the ones who had hissed.

{}``And now to rescue Wendy!''\ 

The moon was riding in a cloudy heaven when Peter rose from his tree,
begirt with weapons and wearing little else, to set out upon his perilous
quest. It was not such a night as he would have chosen. He had hoped
to fly, keeping not far from the ground so that nothing unwonted should
escape his eyes; but in that fitful light to have flown low would
have meant trailing his shadow through the trees, thus disturbing
birds and acquainting a watchful foe that he was astir.

He regretted now that he had given the birds of the island such strange
names that they are very wild and difficult of approach.

There was no other course but to press forward in redskin fashion,
at which happily he was an adept. But in what direction, for he could
not be sure that the children had been taken to the ship? A light
fall of snow had obliterated all footmarks; and a deathly silence
pervaded the island, as if for a space Nature stood still in horror
of the recent carnage. He had taught the children something of the
forest lore that he had himself learned from Tiger Lily and Tinker
Bell, and knew that in their dire hour they were not likely to forget
it. Slightly, if he had an opportunity, would blaze the trees, for
instance, Curly would drop seeds, and Wendy would leave her handkerchief
at some important place. The morning was needed to search for such
guidance, and he could not wait. The upper world had called him, but
would give no help.

The crocodile passed him, but not another living thing, not a sound,
not a movement; and yet he knew well that sudden death might be at
the next tree, or stalking him from behind.

He swore this terrible oath: {}``Hook or me this time.''

Now he crawled forward like a snake, and again erect, he darted across
a space on which the moonlight played, one finger on his lip and his
dagger at the ready. He was frightfully happy.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 14. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Pirate}}
\textit{\emph{Ship}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 14. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Pirate}}
\textit{\emph{Ship}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 14}

One green light squinting over Kidd's Creek, which is near the mouth
of the pirate river, marked where the brig, the \textit{Jolly} \emph{Roger},
lay, low in the water; a rakish-looking craft foul to the hull, every
beam in her detestable, like ground strewn with mangled feathers.
She was the cannibal of the seas, and scarce needed that watchful
eye, for she floated immune in the horror of her name.

She was wrapped in the blanket of night, through which no sound from
her could have reached the shore. There was little sound, and none
agreeable save the whir of the ship's sewing machine at which Smee
sat, ever industrious and obliging, the essence of the commonplace,
pathetic Smee. I know not why he was so infinitely pathetic, unless
it were because he was so pathetically unaware of it; but even strong
men had to turn hastily from looking at him, and more than once on
summer evenings he had touched the fount of Hook's tears and made
it flow. Of this, as of almost everything else, Smee was quite unconscious.

A few of the pirates leant over the bulwarks, drinking in the miasma
of the night; others sprawled by barrels over games of dice and cards;
and the exhausted four who had carried the little house lay prone
on the deck, where even in their sleep they rolled skillfully to this
side or that out of Hook's reach, lest he should claw them mechanically
in passing.

Hook trod the deck in thought. O man unfathomable. It was his hour
of triumph. Peter had been removed for ever from his path, and all
the other boys were in the brig, about to walk the plank. It was his
grimmest deed since the days when he had brought Barbecue to heel;
and knowing as we do how vain a tabernacle is man, could we be surprised
had he now paced the deck unsteadily, bellied out by the winds of
his success?

But there was no elation in his gait, which kept pace with the action
of his sombre mind. Hook was profoundly dejected.

He was often thus when communing with himself on board ship in the
quietude of the night. It was because he was so terribly alone. This
inscrutable man never felt more alone than when surrounded by his
dogs. They were socially inferior to him.

Hook was not his true name. To reveal who he really was would even
at this date set the country in a blaze; but as those who read between
the lines must already have guessed, he had been at a famous public
school; and its traditions still clung to him like garments, with
which indeed they are largely concerned. Thus it was offensive to
him even now to board a ship in the same dress in which he grappled
her, and he still adhered in his walk to the school's distinguished
slouch. But above all he retained the passion for good form.

Good form! However much he may have degenerated, he still knew that
this is all that really matters.

From far within him he heard a creaking as of rusty portals, and through
them came a stern tap-tap-tap, like hammering in the night when one
cannot sleep. {}``Have you been good form to-day?''\ was their
eternal question.

{}``Fame, fame, that glittering bauble, it is mine,'' he cried.

{}``Is it quite good form to be distinguished at anything?''\ the
tap-tap from his school replied.

{}``I am the only man whom Barbecue feared,'' he urged, {}``and
Flint feared Barbecue.''

{}``Barbecue, Flint\mbox{---}what house?''\ came the cutting retort.

Most disquieting reflection of all, was it not bad form to think about
good form?

His vitals were tortured by this problem. It was a claw within him
sharper than the iron one; and as it tore him, the perspiration dripped
down his tallow countenance and streaked his doublet. Ofttimes he
drew his sleeve across his face, but there was no damming that trickle.

Ah, envy not Hook.

There came to him a presentiment of his early dissolution. It was
as if Peter's terrible oath had boarded the ship. Hook felt a gloomy
desire to make his dying speech, lest presently there should be no
time for it.

{}``Better for Hook,'' he cried, {}``if he had had less ambition!''\ 
It was in his darkest hours only that he referred to himself in the
third person.

{}``No little children to love me!''\ 

Strange that he should think of this, which had never troubled him
before; perhaps the sewing machine brought it to his mind. For long
he muttered to himself, staring at Smee, who was hemming placidly,
under the conviction that all children feared him.

Feared him! Feared Smee! There was not a child on board the brig that
night who did not already love him. He had said horrid things to them
and hit them with the palm of his hand, because he could not hit with
his fist, but they had only clung to him the more. Michael had tried
on his spectacles.

To tell poor Smee that they thought him lovable! Hook itched to do
it, but it seemed too brutal. Instead, he revolved this mystery in
his mind: why do they find Smee lovable? He pursued the problem like
the sleuth-hound that he was. If Smee was lovable, what was it that
made him so? A terrible answer suddenly presented itself\mbox{---}{}``Good
form?''\ 

Had the bo'sun good form without knowing it, which is the best form
of all?

He remembered that you have to prove you don't know you have it before
you are eligible for Pop.

With a cry of rage he raised his iron hand over Smee's head; but he
did not tear. What arrested him was this reflection:

{}``To claw a man because he is good form, what would that be?''\ 

{}``Bad form!''\ 

The unhappy Hook was as impotent as he was damp, and he fell forward
like a cut flower.

His dogs thinking him out of the way for a time, discipline instantly
relaxed; and they broke into a bacchanalian dance, which brought him
to his feet at once, all traces of human weakness gone, as if a bucket
of water had passed over him.

{}``Quiet, you scugs,'' he cried, {}``or I'll cast anchor in you'';
and at once the din was hushed. {}``Are all the children chained,
so that they cannot fly away?''\ 

{}``Ay, ay.''

{}``Then hoist them up.''

The wretched prisoners were dragged from the hold, all except Wendy,
and ranged in line in front of him. For a time he seemed unconscious
of their presence. He lolled at his ease, humming, not unmelodiously,
snatches of a rude song, and fingering a pack of cards. Ever and anon
the light from his cigar gave a touch of colour to his face.

{}``Now then, bullies,'' he said briskly, {}``six of you walk the
plank to-night, but I have room for two cabin boys. Which of you is
it to be?''\ 

{}``Don't irritate him unnecessarily,'' had been Wendy's instructions
in the hold; so Tootles stepped forward politely. Tootles hated the
idea of signing under such a man, but an instinct told him that it
would be prudent to lay the responsibility on an absent person; and
though a somewhat silly boy, he knew that mothers alone are always
willing to be the buffer. All children know this about mothers, and
despise them for it, but make constant use of it.

So Tootles explained prudently, {}``You see, sir, I don't think my
mother would like me to be a pirate. Would your mother like you to
be a pirate, Slightly?''\ 

He winked at Slightly, who said mournfully, {}``I don't think so,''
as if he wished things had been otherwise. {}``Would your mother
like you to be a pirate, Twin?''\ 

{}``I don't think so,'' said the first twin, as clever as the others.
{}``Nibs, would\mbox{---}''

{}``Stow this gab,'' roared Hook, and the spokesmen were dragged
back. {}``You, boy,'' he said, addressing John, {}``you look as
if you had a little pluck in you. Didst never want to be a pirate,
my hearty?''\ 

Now John had sometimes experienced this hankering at maths. prep.;
and he was struck by Hook's picking him out.

{}``I once thought of calling myself Red-handed Jack,'' he said
diffidently.

{}``And a good name too. We'll call you that here, bully, if you
join.''

{}``What do you think, Michael?''\ asked John.

{}``What would you call me if I join?''\ Michael demanded.

{}``Blackbeard Joe.''

Michael was naturally impressed. {}``What do you think, John?''\ 
He wanted John to decide, and John wanted him to decide.

{}``Shall we still be respectful subjects of the King?''\ John
inquired.

Through Hook's teeth came the answer: {}``You would have to swear,
`Down with the King.'''

Perhaps John had not behaved very well so far, but he shone out now.

{}``Then I refuse,'' he cried, banging the barrel in front of Hook.

{}``And I refuse,'' cried Michael.

{}``Rule Britannia!''\ squeaked Curly.

The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth; and Hook roared
out, {}``That seals your doom. Bring up their mother. Get the plank
ready.''

They were only boys, and they went white as they saw Jukes and Cecco
preparing the fatal plank. But they tried to look brave when Wendy
was brought up.

No words of mine can tell you how Wendy despised those pirates. To
the boys there was at least some glamour in the pirate calling; but
all that she saw was that the ship had not been tidied for years.
There was not a porthole on the grimy glass of which you might not
have written with your finger {}``Dirty pig''; and she had already
written it on several. But as the boys gathered round her she had
no thought, of course, save for them.

{}``So, my beauty,'' said Hook, as if he spoke in syrup, {}``you
are to see your children walk the plank.''

Fine gentlemen though he was, the intensity of his communings had
soiled his ruff, and suddenly he knew that she was gazing at it. With
a hasty gesture he tried to hide it, but he was too late.

{}``Are they to die?''\ asked Wendy, with a look of such frightful
contempt that he nearly fainted.

{}``They are,'' he snarled. {}``Silence all,'' he called gloatingly,
{}``for a mother's last words to her children.''

At this moment Wendy was grand. {}``These are my last words, dear
boys,'' she said firmly. {}``I feel that I have a message to you
from your real mothers, and it is this: `We hope our sons will die
like English gentlemen.'''

Even the pirates were awed, and Tootles cried out hysterically, {}``I
am going to do what my mother hopes. What are you to do, Nibs?''\ 

{}``What my mother hopes. What are you to do, Twin?''\ 

{}``What my mother hopes. John, what are\mbox{---}''

But Hook had found his voice again.

{}``Tie her up!''\ he shouted.

It was Smee who tied her to the mast. {}``See here, honey,'' he
whispered, {}``I'll save you if you promise to be my mother.''

But not even for Smee would she make such a promise. {}``I would
almost rather have no children at all,'' she said disdainfully.

It is sad to know that not a boy was looking at her as Smee tied her
to the mast; the eyes of all were on the plank: that last little walk
they were about to take. They were no longer able to hope that they
would walk it manfully, for the capacity to think had gone from them;
they could stare and shiver only.

Hook smiled on them with his teeth closed, and took a step toward
Wendy. His intention was to turn her face so that she should see they
boys walking the plank one by one. But he never reached her, he never
heard the cry of anguish he hoped to wring from her. He heard something
else instead.

It was the terrible tick-tick of the crocodile.

They all heard it\mbox{---}pirates, boys, Wendy; and immediately
every head was blown in one direction; not to the water whence the
sound proceeded, but toward Hook. All knew that what was about to
happen concerned him alone, and that from being actors they were suddenly
become spectators.

Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was
as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heap.

The sound came steadily nearer; and in advance of it came this ghastly
thought, {}``The crocodile is about to board the ship!''\ 

Even the iron claw hung inactive; as if knowing that it was no intrinsic
part of what the attacking force wanted. Left so fearfully alone,
any other man would have lain with his eyes shut where he fell: but
the gigantic brain of Hook was still working, and under its guidance
he crawled on the knees along the deck as far from the sound as he
could go. The pirates respectfully cleared a passage for him, and
it was only when he brought up against the bulwarks that he spoke.

{}``Hide me!''\ he cried hoarsely.

They gathered round him, all eyes averted from the thing that was
coming aboard. They had no thought of fighting it. It was Fate.

Only when Hook was hidden from them did curiosity loosen the limbs
of the boys so that they could rush to the ship's side to see the
crocodile climbing it. Then they got the strangest surprise of the
Night of Nights; for it was no crocodile that was coming to their
aid. It was Peter.

He signed to them not to give vent to any cry of admiration that might
rouse suspicion. Then he went on ticking.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 15. \emph{{}``}\textit{\emph{Hook}} \textit{\emph{or}}
\textit{\emph{Me}} \textit{\emph{this}} \textit{\emph{Time}}\emph{''}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 15. \emph{{}``}\textit{\emph{Hook}}
\textit{\emph{or}} \textit{\emph{Me}} \textit{\emph{this}} \textit{\emph{Time}}\emph{''}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 15}

Odd things happen to all of us on our way through life without our
noticing for a time that they have happened. Thus, to take an instance,
we suddenly discover that we have been deaf in one ear for we don't
know how long, but, say, half an hour. Now such an experience had
come that night to Peter. When last we saw him he was stealing across
the island with one finger to his lips and his dagger at the ready.
He had seen the crocodile pass by without noticing anything peculiar
about it, but by and by he remembered that it had not been ticking.
At first he thought this eerie, but soon concluded rightly that the
clock had run down.

Without giving a thought to what might be the feelings of a fellow-creature
thus abruptly deprived of its closest companion, Peter began to consider
how he could turn the catastrophe to his own use; and he decided to
tick, so that wild beasts should believe he was the crocodile and
let him pass unmolested. He ticked superbly, but with one unforeseen
result. The crocodile was among those who heard the sound, and it
followed him, though whether with the purpose of regaining what it
had lost, or merely as a friend under the belief that it was again
ticking itself, will never be certainly known, for, like slaves to
a fixed idea, it was a stupid beast.

Peter reached the shore without mishap, and went straight on, his
legs encountering the water as if quite unaware that they had entered
a new element. Thus many animals pass from land to water, but no other
human of whom I know. As he swam he had but one thought: {}``Hook
or me this time.'' He had ticked so long that he now went on ticking
without knowing that he was doing it. Had he known he would have stopped,
for to board the brig by help of the tick, though an ingenious idea,
had not occurred to him.

On the contrary, he thought he had scaled her side as noiseless as
a mouse; and he was amazed to see the pirates cowering from him, with
Hook in their midst as abject as if he had heard the crocodile.

The crocodile! No sooner did Peter remember it than he heard the ticking.
At first he thought the sound did come from the crocodile, and he
looked behind him swiftly. They he realised that he was doing it himself,
and in a flash he understood the situation. {}``How clever of me!''\ 
he thought at once, and signed to the boys not to burst into applause.

It was at this moment that Ed Teynte the quartermaster emerged from
the forecastle and came along the deck. Now, reader, time what happened
by your watch. Peter struck true and deep. John clapped his hands
on the ill-fated pirate's mouth to stifle the dying groan. He fell
forward. Four boys caught him to prevent the thud. Peter gave the
signal, and the carrion was cast overboard. There was a splash, and
then silence. How long has it taken?

{}``One!''\ (Slightly had begun to count.)

None too soon, Peter, every inch of him on tiptoe, vanished into the
cabin; for more than one pirate was screwing up his courage to look
round. They could hear each other's distressed breathing now, which
showed them that the more terrible sound had passed.

{}``It's gone, captain,'' Smee said, wiping off his spectacles.
{}``All's still again.''

Slowly Hook let his head emerge from his ruff, and listened so intently
that he could have caught the echo of the tick. There was not a sound,
and he drew himself up firmly to his full height.

{}``Then here's to Johnny Plank!''\ he cried brazenly, hating the
boys more than ever because they had seen him unbend. He broke into
the villainous ditty:

\begin{flushleft}\begin{verse}\small{}``Yo ho, yo ho, the frisky plank, \\*

You walks along it so, \\*

Till it goes down and you goes down \\*

To Davy Jones below!''

\end{verse}\end{flushleft}

To terrorize the prisoners the more, though with a certain loss of
dignity, he danced along an imaginary plank, grimacing at them as
he sang; and when he finished he cried, {}``Do you want a touch of
the cat before you walk the plank?''\ 

At that they fell on their knees. {}``No, no!''\ they cried so
piteously that every pirate smiled.

{}``Fetch the cat, Jukes,'' said Hook; {}``it's in the cabin.''

The cabin! Peter was in the cabin! The children gazed at each other.

{}``Ay, ay,'' said Jukes blithely, and he strode into the cabin.
They followed him with their eyes; they scarce knew that Hook had
resumed his song, his dogs joining in with him:

\begin{flushleft}\begin{verse}\small{}``Yo ho, yo ho, the scratching cat, \\*

Its tails are nine, you know, \\*

\mbox{And when they're writ upon your back---''}

\end{verse}\end{flushleft}

What was the last line will never be known, for of a sudden the song
was stayed by a dreadful screech from the cabin. It wailed through
the ship, and died away. Then was heard a crowing sound which was
well understood by the boys, but to the pirates was almost more eerie
than the screech.

{}``What was that?''\ cried Hook.

{}``Two,'' said Slightly solemnly.

The Italian Cecco hesitated for a moment and then swung into the cabin.
He tottered out, haggard.

{}``What's the matter with Bill Jukes, you dog?''\ hissed Hook,
towering over him.

{}``The matter wi' him is he's dead, stabbed,'' replied Cecco in
a hollow voice.

{}``Bill Jukes dead!''\ cried the startled pirates.

{}``The cabin's as black as a pit,'' Cecco said, almost gibbering,
{}``but there is something terrible in there: the thing you heard
crowing.''

The exultation of the boys, the lowering looks of the pirates, both
were seen by Hook.

{}``Cecco,'' he said in his most steely voice, {}``go back and
fetch me out that doodle-doo.''

Cecco, bravest of the brave, cowered before his captain, crying {}``No,
no''; but Hook was purring to his claw.

{}``Did you say you would go, Cecco?''\ he said musingly.

Cecco went, first flinging his arms despairingly. There was no more
singing, all listened now; and again came a death-screech and again
a crow.

No one spoke except Slightly. {}``Three,'' he said.

Hook rallied his dogs with a gesture.\ {} {}``'S'death and odds
fish,'' he thundered, {}``who is to bring me that doodle-doo?''\ 

{}``Wait till Cecco comes out,'' growled Starkey, and the others
took up the cry.

{}``I think I heard you volunteer, Starkey,'' said Hook, purring
again.

{}``No, by thunder!''\ Starkey cried.

{}``My hook thinks you did,'' said Hook, crossing to him. {}``I
wonder if it would not be advisable, Starkey, to humour the hook?''\ 

{}``I'll swing before I go in there,'' replied Starkey doggedly,
and again he had the support of the crew.

{}``Is this mutiny?''\ asked Hook more pleasantly than ever. {}``Starkey's
ringleader!''\ 

{}``Captain, mercy!''\ Starkey whimpered, all of a tremble now.

{}``Shake hands, Starkey,'' said Hook, proffering his claw.

Starkey looked round for help, but all deserted him. As he backed
up Hook advanced, and now the red spark was in his eye. With a despairing
scream the pirate leapt upon Long Tom and precipitated himself into
the sea.

{}``Four,'' said Slightly.

{}``And now,'' Hook said courteously, {}``did any other gentlemen
say mutiny?''\ Seizing a lantern and raising his claw with a menacing
gesture, {}``I'll bring out that doodle-doo myself,'' he said, and
sped into the cabin.

{}``Five.'' How Slightly longed to say it. He wetted his lips to
be ready, but Hook came staggering out, without his lantern.

{}``Something blew out the light,'' he said a little unsteadily.

{}``Something!''\ echoed Mullins.

{}``What of Cecco?''\ demanded Noodler.

{}``He's as dead as Jukes,'' said Hook shortly.

His reluctance to return to the cabin impressed them all unfavourably,
and the mutinous sounds again broke forth. All pirates are superstitious,
and Cookson cried, {}``They do say the surest sign a ship's accurst
is when there's one on board more than can be accounted for.''

{}``I've heard,'' muttered Mullins, {}``he always boards the pirate
craft last. Had he a tail, captain?''\ 

{}``They say,'' said another, looking viciously at Hook, {}``that
when he comes it's in the likeness of the wickedest man aboard.''

{}``Had he a hook, captain?''\ asked Cookson insolently; and one
after another took up the cry, {}``The ship's doomed!''\ At this
the children could not resist raising a cheer. Hook had well-nigh
forgotten his prisoners, but as he swung round on them now his face
lit up again.

{}``Lads,'' he cried to his crew, {}``now here's a notion. Open
the cabin door and drive them in. Let them fight the doodle-doo for
their lives. If they kill him, we're so much the better; if he kills
them, we're none the worse.''

For the last time his dogs admired Hook, and devotedly they did his
bidding. The boys, pretending to struggle, were pushed into the cabin
and the door was closed on them.

{}``Now, listen!''\ cried Hook, and all listened. But not one dared
to face the door. Yes, one, Wendy, who all this time had been bound
to the mast. It was for neither a scream nor a crow that she was watching,
it was for the reappearance of Peter.

She had not long to wait. In the cabin he had found the thing for
which he had gone in search: the key the would free the children of
their manacles, and now they all stole forth, armed with such weapons
as they could find. First signing them to hide, Peter cut Wendy's
bonds, and then nothing could have been easier than for them all to
fly off together; but one thing barred the way, an oath, {}``Hook
or me this time.'' So when he had freed Wendy, he whispered for her
to conceal herself with the others, and himself took her place by
the mast, her cloak around him so that he should pass for her. Then
he took a great breath and crowed.

To the pirates it was a voice crying that all the boys lay slain in
the cabin; and they were panic-stricken. Hook tried to hearten them;
but like the dogs he had made them they showed him their fangs, and
he knew that if he took his eyes off them now they would leap at him.

{}``Lads,'' he said, ready to cajole or strike as need be, but never
quailing for an instant, {}``I've thought it out. There's a Jonah
aboard.''

{}``Ay,'' they snarled, {}``a man wi' a hook.''

{}``No, lads, no, it's the girl. Never was luck on a pirate ship
wi' a woman on board. We'll right the ship when she's gone.''

Some of them remembered that this had been a saying of Flint's. {}``It's
worth trying,'' they said doubtfully.

{}``Fling the girl overboard,'' cried Hook; and they made a rush
at the figure in the cloak.

{}``There's none can save you now, missy,'' Mullins hissed jeeringly.

{}``There's one,'' replied the figure.

{}``Who's that?''\ 

{}``Peter Pan the avenger!''\ came the terrible answer; and as
he spoke Peter flung off his cloak. Then they all knew who 'twas that
had been undoing them in the cabin, and twice Hook essayed to speak
and twice he failed. In that frightful moment I think his fierce heart
broke.

At last he cried, {}``Cleave him to the brisket!''\ but without
conviction.

{}``Down, boys, and at them!''\ Peter's voice rang out; and in
another moment the clash of arms was resounding through the ship.
Had the pirates kept together it is certain that they would have won;
but the onset came when they were still unstrung, and they ran hither
and thither, striking wildly, each thinking himself the last survivor
of the crew. Man to man they were the stronger; but they fought on
the defensive only, which enabled the boys to hunt in pairs and choose
their quarry. Some of the miscreants leapt into the sea; others hid
in dark recesses, where they were found by Slightly, who did not fight,
but ran about with a lantern which he flashed in their faces, so that
they were half blinded and fell as an easy prey to the reeking swords
of the other boys. There was little sound to be heard but the clang
of weapons, an occasional screech or splash, and Slightly monotonously
counting\mbox{---}five\mbox{---}six\mbox{---}seven\mbox{--}--eight\mbox{---}nine\mbox{---}ten\mbox{---}eleven.

I think all were gone when a group of savage boys surrounded Hook,
who seemed to have a charmed life, as he kept them at bay in that
circle of fire. They had done for his dogs, but this man alone seemed
to be a match for them all. Again and again they closed upon him,
and again and again he hewed a clear space. He had lifted up one boy
with his hook, and was using him as a buckler, when another, who had
just passed his sword through Mullins, sprang into the fray.

{}``Put up your swords, boys,'' cried the newcomer, {}``this man
is mine.''

Thus suddenly Hook found himself face to face with Peter. The others
drew back and formed a ring around them.

For long the two enemies looked at one another, Hook shuddering slightly,
and Peter with the strange smile upon his face.

{}``So, Pan,'' said Hook at last, {}``this is all your doing.''

{}``Ay, James Hook,'' came the stern answer, {}``it is all my doing.''

{}``Proud and insolent youth,'' said Hook, {}``prepare to meet
thy doom.''

{}``Dark and sinister man,'' Peter answered, {}``have at thee.''

Without more words they fell to, and for a space there was no advantage
to either blade. Peter was a superb swordsman, and parried with dazzling
rapidity; ever and anon he followed up a feint with a lunge that got
past his foe's defence, but his shorter reach stood him in ill stead,
and he could not drive the steel home. Hook, scarcely his inferior
in brilliancy, but not quite so nimble in wrist play, forced him back
by the weight of his onset, hoping suddenly to end all with a favourite
thrust, taught him long ago by Barbecue at Rio; but to his astonishment
he found this thrust turned aside again and again. Then he sought
to close and give the quietus with his iron hook, which all this time
had been pawing the air; but Peter doubled under it and, lunging fiercely,
pierced him in the ribs. At the sight of his own blood, whose peculiar
colour, you remember, was offensive to him, the sword fell from Hook's
hand, and he was at Peter's mercy.

{}``Now!''\ cried all the boys, but with a magnificent gesture
Peter invited his opponent to pick up his sword. Hook did so instantly,
but with a tragic feeling that Peter was showing good form.

Hitherto he had thought it was some fiend fighting him, but darker
suspicions assailed him now.

{}``Pan, who and what art thou?''\ he cried huskily.

{}``I'm youth, I'm joy,'' Peter answered at a venture, {}``I'm
a little bird that has broken out of the egg.''

This, of course, was nonsense; but it was proof to the unhappy Hook
that Peter did not know in the least who or what he was, which is
the very pinnacle of good form.

{}``To't again,'' he cried despairingly.

He fought now like a human flail, and every sweep of that terrible
sword would have severed in twain any man or boy who obstructed it;
but Peter fluttered round him as if the very wind it made blew him
out of the danger zone. And again and again he darted in and pricked.

Hook was fighting now without hope. That passionate breast no longer
asked for life; but for one boon it craved: to see Peter show bad
form before it was cold forever.

Abandoning the fight he rushed into the powder magazine and fired
it.

{}``In two minutes,'' he cried, {}``the ship will be blown to pieces.''

Now, now, he thought, true form will show.

But Peter issued from the powder magazine with the shell in his hands,
and calmly flung it overboard.

What sort of form was Hook himself showing? Misguided man though he
was, we may be glad, without sympathising with him, that in the end
he was true to the traditions of his race. The other boys were flying
around him now, flouting, scornful; and he staggered about the deck
striking up at them impotently, his mind was no longer with them;
it was slouching in the playing fields of long ago, or being sent
up for good, or watching the wall-game from a famous wall. And his
shoes were right, and his waistcoat was right, and his tie was right,
and his socks were right.

James Hook, thou not wholly unheroic figure, farewell.

For we have come to his last moment.

Seeing Peter slowly advancing upon him through the air with dagger
poised, he sprang upon the bulwarks to cast himself into the sea.
He did not know that the crocodile was waiting for him; for we purposely
stopped the clock that this knowledge might be spared him: a little
mark of respect from us at the end.

He had one last triumph, which I think we need not grudge him. As
he stood on the bulwark looking over his shoulder at Peter gliding
through the air, he invited him with a gesture to use his foot. It
made Peter kick instead of stab.

At last Hook had got the boon for which he craved.

{}``Bad form,'' he cried jeeringly, and went content to the crocodile.

Thus perished James Hook.

{}``Seventeen,'' Slightly sang out; but he was not quite correct
in his figures. Fifteen paid the penalty for their crimes that night;
but two reached the shore: Starkey to be captured by the redskins,
who made him nurse for all their papooses, a melancholy come-down
for a pirate; and Smee, who henceforth wandered about the world in
his spectacles, making a precarious living by saying he was the only
man that Jas.\ Hook had feared.

Wendy, of course, had stood by taking no part in the fight, though
watching Peter with glistening eyes; but now that all was over she
became prominent again. She praised them equally, and shuddered delightfully
when Michael showed her the place where he had killed one; and then
she took them into Hook's cabin and pointed to his watch which was
hanging on a nail. It said {}``half-past one!''\ 

The lateness of the hour was almost the biggest thing of all. She
got them to bed in the pirates' bunks pretty quickly, you may be sure;
all but Peter, who strutted up and down on the deck, until at last
he fell asleep by the side of Long Tom. He had one of his dreams that
night, and cried in his sleep for a long time, and Wendy held him
tightly.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 16. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Return}}
\textit{\emph{Home}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 16. \textit{\emph{The}} \textit{\emph{Return}}
\textit{\emph{Home}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 16}

By three bells that morning they were all stirring their stumps; for
there was a big sea running; and Tootles, the bo'sun, was among them,
with a rope's end in his hand and chewing tobacco. They all donned
pirate clothes cut off at the knee, shaved smartly, and tumbled up,
with the true nautical roll and hitching their trousers.

It need not be said who was the captain. Nibs and John were first
and second mate. There was a woman aboard. The rest were tars before
the mast, and lived in the fo'c'sle. Peter had already lashed himself
to the wheel; but he piped all hands and delivered a short address
to them; said he hoped they would do their duty like gallant hearties,
but that he knew they were the scum of Rio and the Gold Coast, and
if they snapped at him he would tear them. The bluff strident words
struck the note sailors understood, and they cheered him lustily.
Then a few sharp orders were given, and they turned the ship round,
and nosed her for the mainland.

Captain Pan calculated, after consulting the ship's chart, that if
this weather lasted they should strike the Azores about the 21st of
June, after which it would save time to fly.

Some of them wanted it to be an honest ship and others were in favour
of keeping it a pirate; but the captain treated them as dogs, and
they dared not express their wishes to him even in a round robin.
Instant obedience was the only safe thing. Slightly got a dozen for
looking perplexed when told to take soundings. The general feeling
was that Peter was honest just now to lull Wendy's suspicions, but
that there might be a change when the new suit was ready, which, against
her will, she was making for him out of some of Hook's wickedest garments.
It was afterwards whispered among them that on the first night he
wore this suit he sat long in the cabin with Hook's cigar-holder in
his mouth and one hand clenched, all but for the forefinger, which
he bent and held threateningly aloft like a hook.

Instead of watching the ship, however, we must now return to that
desolate home from which three of our characters had taken heartless
flight so long ago. It seems a shame to have neglected No.\ 14 all
this time; and yet we may be sure that Mrs.\ Darling does not blame
us. If we had returned sooner to look with sorrowful sympathy at her,
she would probably have cried, {}``Don't be silly; what do I matter?
Do go back and keep an eye on the children.'' So long as mothers
are like this their children will take advantage of them; and they
may lay to that.

Even now we venture into that familiar nursery only because its lawful
occupants are on their way home; we are merely hurrying on in advance
of them to see that their beds are properly aired and that Mr.\ and
Mrs.\ Darling do not go out for the evening. We are no more than
servants. Why on earth should their beds be properly aired, seeing
that they left them in such a thankless hurry? Would it not serve
them jolly well right if they came back and found that their parents
were spending the week-end in the country? It would be the moral lesson
they have been in need of ever since we met them; but if we contrived
things in this way Mrs.\ Darling would never forgive us.

One thing I should like to do immensely, and that is to tell her,
in the way authors have, that the children are coming back, that indeed
they will be here on Thursday week. This would spoil so completely
the surprise to which Wendy and John and Michael are looking forward.
They have been planning it out on the ship: mother's rapture, father's
shout of joy, Nana's leap through the air to embrace them first, when
what they ought to be prepared for is a good hiding. How delicious
to spoil it all by breaking the news in advance; so that when they
enter grandly Mrs.\ Darling may not even offer Wendy her mouth, and
Mr.\ Darling may exclaim pettishly, {}``Dash it all, here are those
boys again.'' However, we should get no thanks even for this. We
are beginning to know Mrs.\ Darling by this time, and may be sure
that she would upbraid us for depriving the children of their little
pleasure.

{}``But, my dear madam, it is ten days till Thursday week; so that
by telling you what's what, we can save you ten days of unhappiness.''

{}``Yes, but at what a cost! By depriving the children of ten minutes
of delight.''

{}``Oh, if you look at it in that way!''

{}``What other way is there in which to look at it?''

You see, the woman had no proper spirit. I had meant to say extraordinarily
nice things about her; but I despise her, and not one of them will
I say now. She does not really need to be told to have things ready,
for they are ready. All the beds are aired, and she never leaves the
house, and observe, the window is open. For all the use we are to
her, we might well go back to the ship. However, as we are here we
may as well stay and look on. That is all we are, lookers-on. Nobody
really wants us. So let us watch and say jaggy things, in the hope
that some of them will hurt.

The only change to be seen in the night-nursery is that between nine
and six the kennel is no longer there. When the children flew away,
Mr.\ Darling felt in his bones that all the blame was his for having
chained Nana up, and that from first to last she had been wiser than
he. Of course, as we have seen, he was quite a simple man; indeed
he might have passed for a boy again if he had been able to take his
baldness off; but he had also a noble sense of justice and a lion's
courage to do what seemed right to him; and having thought the matter
out with anxious care after the flight of the children, he went down
on all fours and crawled into the kennel. To all Mrs.\ Darling's
dear invitations to him to come out he replied sadly but firmly:

{}``No, my own one, this is the place for me.''

In the bitterness of his remorse he swore that he would never leave
the kennel until his children came back. Of course this was a pity;
but whatever Mr.\ Darling did he had to do in excess, otherwise he
soon gave up doing it. And there never was a more humble man than
the once proud George Darling, as he sat in the kennel of an evening
talking with his wife of their children and all their pretty ways.

Very touching was his deference to Nana. He would not let her come
into the kennel, but on all other matters he followed her wishes implicitly.

Every morning the kennel was carried with Mr.\ Darling in it to a
cab, which conveyed him to his office, and he returned home in the
same way at six. Something of the strength of character of the man
will be seen if we remember how sensitive he was to the opinion of
neighbours: this man whose every movement now attracted surprised
attention. Inwardly he must have suffered torture; but he preserved
a calm exterior even when the young criticised his little home, and
he always lifted his hat courteously to any lady who looked inside.

It may have been Quixotic, but it was magnificent. Soon the inward
meaning of it leaked out, and the great heart of the public was touched.
Crowds followed the cab, cheering it lustily; charming girls scaled
it to get his autograph; interviews appeared in the better class of
papers, and society invited him to dinner and added, {}``Do come
in the kennel.''

On that eventful Thursday week, Mrs.\ Darling was in the night-nursery
awaiting George's return home; a very sad-eyed woman. Now that we
look at her closely and remember the gaiety of her in the old days,
all gone now just because she has lost her babes, I find I won't be
able to say nasty things about her after all. If she was too fond
of her rubbishy children, she couldn't help it. Look at her in her
chair, where she has fallen asleep. The corner of her mouth, where
one looks first, is almost withered up. Her hand moves restlessly
on her breast as if she had a pain there. Some like Peter best, and
some like Wendy best, but I like her best. Suppose, to make her happy,
we whisper to her in her sleep that the brats are coming back. They
are really within two miles of the window now, and flying strong,
but all we need whisper is that they are on the way. Let's.

It is a pity we did it, for she has started up, calling their names;
and there is no one in the room but Nana.

{}``O Nana, I dreamt my dear ones had come back.''

Nana had filmy eyes, but all she could do was put her paw gently on
her mistress's lap; and they were sitting together thus when the kennel
was brought back. As Mr.\ Darling puts his head out to kiss his wife,
we see that his face is more worn than of yore, but has a softer expression.

He gave his hat to Liza, who took it scornfully; for she had no imagination,
and was quite incapable of understanding the motives of such a man.
Outside, the crowd who had accompanied the cab home were still cheering,
and he was naturally not unmoved.

{}``Listen to them,'' he said; {}``it is very gratifying.''

{}``Lots of little boys,'' sneered Liza.

{}``There were several adults to-day,'' he assured her with a faint
flush; but when she tossed her head he had not a word of reproof for
her. Social success had not spoilt him; it had made him sweeter. For
some time he sat with his head out of the kennel, talking with Mrs.\ Darling
of this success, and pressing her hand reassuringly when she said
she hoped his head would not be turned by it.

{}``But if I had been a weak man,'' he said. {}``Good heavens,
if I had been a weak man!''

{}``And, George,'' she said timidly, {}``you are as full of remorse
as ever, aren't you?''

{}``Full of remorse as ever, dearest! See my punishment: living in
a kennel.''

{}``But it is punishment, isn't it, George? You are sure you are
not enjoying it?''

{}``My love!''

You may be sure she begged his pardon; and then, feeling drowsy, he
curled round in the kennel.

{}``Won't you play me to sleep,'' he asked, {}``on the nursery
piano?''\ and as she was crossing to the day-nursery he added thoughtlessly,
{}``And shut that window. I feel a draught.''

{}``O George, never ask me to do that. The window must always be
left open for them, always, always.''

Now it was his turn to beg her pardon; and she went into the day-nursery
and played, and soon he was asleep; and while he slept, Wendy and
John and Michael flew into the room.

Oh no. We have written it so, because that was the charming arrangement
planned by them before we left the ship; but something must have happened
since then, for it is not they who have flown in, it is Peter and
Tinker Bell.

Peter's first words tell all.

{}``Quick Tink,'' he whipered, {}``close the window; bar it! That's
right. Now you and I must get away by the door; and when Wendy comes
she will think her mother has barred her out; and she will have to
go back with me.''

Now I understand what had hitherto puzzled me, why when Peter had
exterminated the pirates he did not return to the island and leave
Tink to escort the children to the mainland. This trick had been in
his head all the time.

Instead of feeling that he was behaving badly he danced with glee;
then he peeped into the day-nursery to see who was playing. He whispered
to Tink, {}``It's Wendy's mother! She is a pretty lady, but not so
pretty as my mother. Her mouth is full of thimbles, but not so full
as my mother's was.''

Of course he knew nothing whatever about his mother; but he sometimes
bragged about her.

He did not know the tune, which was {}``Home, Sweet Home,'' but
he knew it was saying, {}``Come back, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy''; and
he cried exultantly, {}``You will never see Wendy again, lady, for
the window is barred!''

He peeped in again to see why the music had stopped, and now he saw
that Mrs.\ Darling had laid her head on the box, and that two tears
were sitting on her eyes.

{}``She wants me to unbar the window,'' thought Peter, {}``but
I won't, not I!''

He peeped again, and the tears were still there, or another two had
taken their place.

{}``She's awfully fond of Wendy,'' he said to himself. He was angry
with her now for not seeing why she could not have Wendy.

The reason was so simple: {}``I'm fond of her too. We can't both
have her, lady.''

But the lady would not make the best of it, and he was unhappy. He
ceased to look at her, but even then she would not let go of him.
He skipped about and made funny faces, but when he stopped it was
just as if she were inside him, knocking.

{}``Oh, all right,'' he said at last, and gulped. Then he unbarred
the window. {}``Come on, Tink,'' he cried, with a frightful sneer
at the laws of nature; {}``we don't want any silly mothers''; and
he flew away.

Thus Wendy and John and Michael found the window open for them after
all, which of course was more than they deserved. They alighted on
the floor, quite unashamed of themselves, and the youngest one had
already forgotten his home.

{}``John,'' he said, looking around him doubtfully, {}``I think
I have been here before.''

{}``Of course you have, you silly. There is your old bed.''

{}``So it is,'' Michael said, but not with much conviction.

{}``I say,'' cried John, {}``the kennel!''\ and he dashed across
to look into it.

{}``Perhaps Nana is inside it,'' Wendy said.

But John whistled. {}``Hullo,'' he said, {}``there's a man inside
it.''

{}``It's father!''\ exclaimed Wendy.

{}``Let me see father,'' Michael begged eagerly, and he took a good
look. {}``He is not so big as the pirate I killed,'' he said with
such frank disappointment that I am glad Mr.\ Darling was asleep;
it would have been sad if those had been the first words he heard
his little Michael say.

Wendy and John had been taken aback somewhat at finding their father
in the kennel.

{}``Surely,'' said John, like one who had lost faith in his memory,
{}``he used not to sleep in the kennel?''

{}``John,'' Wendy said falteringly, {}``perhaps we don't remember
the old life as well as we thought we did.''

A chill fell upon them; and serve them right.

{}``It is very careless of mother,'' said that young scoundrel John,
{}``not to be here when we come back.''

It was then that Mrs.\ Darling began playing again.

{}``It's mother!''\ cried Wendy, peeping.

{}``So it is!''\ said John.

{}``Then are you not really our mother, Wendy?''\ asked Michael,
who was surely sleepy.

{}``Oh dear!''\ exclaimed Wendy, with her first real twinge of
remorse, {}``it was quite time we came back,''

{}``Let us creep in,'' John suggested, {}``and put our hands over
her eyes.''

But Wendy, who saw that they must break the joyous news more gently,
had a better plan.

{}``Let us all slip into our beds, and be there when she comes in,
just as if we had never been away.''

And so when Mrs.\ Darling went back to the night-nursery to see if
her husband was asleep, all the beds were occupied. The children waited
for her cry of joy, but it did not come. She saw them, but she did
not believe they were there. You see, she saw them in their beds so
often in her dreams that she thought this was just the dream hanging
around her still.

She sat down in the chair by the fire, where in the old days she had
nursed them.

They could not understand this, and a cold fear fell upon all the
three of them.

{}``Mother!''\ Wendy cried.

{}``That's Wendy,'' she said, but still she was sure it was the
dream.

{}``Mother!''

{}``That's John,'' she said.

{}``Mother!''\ cried Michael. He knew her now.

{}``That's Michael,'' she said, and she stretched out her arms for
the three little selfish children they would never envelop again.
Yes, they did, they went round Wendy and John and Michael, who had
slipped out of bed and run to her.

{}``George, George!''\ she cried when she could speak; and Mr.\ Darling
woke to share her bliss, and Nana came rushing in. There could not
have been a lovelier sight; but there was none to see it except a
little boy who was staring in at the window. He had had ecstasies
innumerable that other children can never know; but he was looking
through the window at the one joy from which he must be for ever barred.


\chapter*{\raggedright Chapter 17. \textit{\emph{When}} \textit{\emph{Wendy}}
\textit{\emph{Grew}} \textit{\emph{Up}}}

\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Chapter 17. \textit{\emph{When}} \textit{\emph{Wendy}}
\textit{\emph{Grew}} \textit{\emph{Up}}}

\markboth{Peter and Wendy}{Chapter 17}

I hope you want to know what became of the other boys. They were waiting
below to give Wendy time to explain about them; and when they had
counted five hundred they went up. They went up by the stair, because
they thought this would make a better impression. They stood in a
row in front of Mrs.\ Darling, with their hats off, and wishing they
were not wearing their pirate clothes. They said nothing, but their
eyes asked her to have them. They ought to have looked at Mr.\ Darling
also, but they forgot about him.

Of course Mrs.\ Darling said at once that she would have them; but
Mr.\ Darling was curiously depressed, and they saw that he considered
six a rather large number.

{}``I must say,'' he said to Wendy, {}``that you don't do things
by halves,'' a grudging remark which the twins thought was pointed
at them.

The first twin was the proud one, and he asked, flushing, {}``Do
you think we should be too much of a handful, sir? Because, if so,
we can go away.''

{}``Father!''\ Wendy cried, shocked; but still the cloud was on
him. He knew he was behaving unworthily, but he could not help it.

{}``We could lie doubled up,'' said Nibs.

{}``I always cut their hair myself,'' said Wendy.

{}``George!''\ Mrs.\ Darling exclaimed, pained to see her dear
one showing himself in such an unfavourable light.

Then he burst into tears, and the truth came out. He was as glad to
have them as she was, he said, but he thought they should have asked
his consent as well as hers, instead of treating him as a cypher in
his own house.

{}``I don't think he is a cypher,'' Tootles cried instantly. {}``Do
you think he is a cypher, Curly?''

{}``No, I don't. Do you think he is a cypher, Slightly?''

{}``Rather not. Twin, what do you think?''

It turned out that not one of them thought him a cypher; and he was
absurdly gratified, and said he would find space for them all in the
drawing-room if they fitted in.

{}``We'll fit in, sir,'' they assured him.

{}``Then follow the leader,'' he cried gaily. {}``Mind you, I am
not sure that we have a drawing-room, but we pretend we have, and
it's all the same. Hoop la!''

He went off dancing through the house, and they all cried {}``Hoop
la!''\ and danced after him, searching for the drawing-room; and
I forget whether they found it, but at any rate they found corners,
and they all fitted in.

As for Peter, he saw Wendy once again before he flew away. He did
not exactly come to the window, but he brushed against it in passing
so that she could open it if she liked and call to him. That is what
she did.

{}``Hullo, Wendy, good-bye,'' he said.

{}``Oh dear, are you going away?''

{}``Yes.''

{}``You don't feel, Peter,'' she said falteringly, {}``that you
would like to say anything to my parents about a very sweet subject?''

{}``No.''

{}``About me, Peter?''

{}``No.''

Mrs.\ Darling came to the window, for at present she was keeping
a sharp eye on Wendy. She told Peter that she had adopted all the
other boys, and would like to adopt him also.

{}``Would you send me to school?''\ he inquired craftily.

{}``Yes.''

{}``And then to an office?''

{}``I suppose so.''

{}``Soon I would be a man?''\ 

{}``Very soon.''

{}``I don't want to go to school and learn solemn things,'' he told
her passionately. {}``I don't want to be a man. O Wendy's mother,
if I was to wake up and feel there was a beard!''\ 

{}``Peter,'' said Wendy the comforter, {}``I should love you in
a beard''; and Mrs.\ Darling stretched out her arms to him, but
he repulsed her.

{}``Keep back, lady, no one is going to catch me and make me a man.''

{}``But where are you going to live?''

{}``With Tink in the house we built for Wendy. The fairies are to
put it high up among the tree tops where they sleep at nights.''

{}``How lovely,'' cried Wendy so longingly that Mrs.\ Darling tightened
her grip.

{}``I thought all the fairies were dead,'' Mrs.\ Darling said.

{}``There are always a lot of young ones,'' explained Wendy, who
was now quite an authority, {}``because you see when a new baby laughs
for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there are always new
babies there are always new fairies. They live in nests on the tops
of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls,
and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they
are.''

{}``I shall have such fun,'' said Peter, with eye on Wendy.

{}``It will be rather lonely in the evening,'' she said, {}``sitting
by the fire.''

{}``I shall have Tink.''

{}``Tink can't go a twentieth part of the way round,'' she reminded
him a little tartly.

{}``Sneaky tell-tale!''\ Tink called out from somewhere round the
corner.

{}``It doesn't matter,'' Peter said.

{}``O Peter, you know it matters.''

{}``Well, then, come with me to the little house.''

{}``May I, mummy?''

{}``Certainly not. I have got you home again, and I mean to keep
you.''

{}``But he does so need a mother.''

{}``So do you, my love.''

{}``Oh, all right,'' Peter said, as if he had asked her from politeness
merely; but Mrs.\ Darling saw his mouth twitch, and she made this
handsome offer: to let Wendy go to him for a week every year to do
his spring cleaning. Wendy would have preferred a more permanent arrangement;
and it seemed to her that spring would be long in coming; but this
promise sent Peter away quite gay again. He had no sense of time,
and was so full of adventures that all I have told you about him is
only a halfpenny-worth of them. I suppose it was because Wendy knew
this that her last words to him were these rather plaintive ones:

{}``You won't forget me, Peter, will you, before spring cleaning
time comes?''

Of course Peter promised; and then he flew away. He took Mrs.\ Darling's
kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one else, Peter took
quite easily. Funny. But she seemed satisfied.

Of course all the boys went to school; and most of them got into Class
III, but Slightly was put first into Class IV and then into Class
V.\  Class I is the top class. Before they had attended school a
week they saw what goats they had been not to remain on the island;
but it was too late now, and soon they settled down to being as ordinary
as you or me or Jenkins minor. It is sad to have to say that the power
to fly gradually left them. At first Nana tied their feet to the bed-posts
so that they should not fly away in the night; and one of their diversions
by day was to pretend to fall off buses; but by and by they ceased
to tug at their bonds in bed, and found that they hurt themselves
when they let go of the bus. In time they could not even fly after
their hats. Want of practice, they called it; but what it really meant
was that they no longer believed.

Michael believed longer than the other boys, though they jeered at
him; so he was with Wendy when Peter came for her at the end of the
first year. She flew away with Peter in the frock she had woven from
leaves and berries in the Neverland, and her one fear was that he
might notice how short it had become; but he never noticed, he had
so much to say about himself.

She had looked forward to thrilling talks with him about old times,
but new adventures had crowded the old ones from his mind.

{}``Who is Captain Hook?''\ he asked with interest when she spoke
of the arch enemy.

{}``Don't you remember,'' she asked, amazed, {}``how you killed
him and saved all our lives?''

{}``I forget them after I kill them,'' he replied carelessly.

When she expressed a doubtful hope that Tinker Bell would be glad
to see her he said, {}``Who is Tinker Bell?''

{}``O Peter,'' she said, shocked; but even when she explained he
could not remember.

{}``There are such a lot of them,'' he said. {}``I expect she is
no more.''

I expect he was right, for fairies don't live long, but they are so
little that a short time seems a good while to them.

Wendy was pained too to find that the past year was but as yesterday
to Peter; it had seemed such a long year of waiting to her. But he
was exactly as fascinating as ever, and they had a lovely spring cleaning
in the little house on the tree tops.

Next year he did not come for her. She waited in a new frock because
the old one simply would not meet; but he never came.

{}``Perhaps he is ill,'' Michael said.

{}``You know he is never ill.''

Michael came close to her and whispered, with a shiver, {}``Perhaps
there is no such person, Wendy!''\ and then Wendy would have cried
if Michael had not been crying.

Peter came next spring cleaning; and the strange thing was that he
never knew he had missed a year.

That was the last time the girl Wendy ever saw him. For a little longer
she tried for his sake not to have growing pains; and she felt she
was untrue to him when she got a prize for general knowledge. But
the years came and went without bringing the careless boy; and when
they met again Wendy was a married woman, and Peter was no more to
her than a little dust in the box in which she had kept her toys.
Wendy was grown up. You need not be sorry for her. She was one of
the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own
free will a day quicker than other girls.

All the boys were grown up and done for by this time; so it is scarcely
worth while saying anything more about them. You may see the twins
and Nibs and Curly any day going to an office, each carrying a little
bag and an umbrella. Michael is an engine-driver. Slightly married
a lady of title, and so he became a lord. You see that judge in a
wig coming out at the iron door? That used to be Tootles. The bearded
man who doesn't know any story to tell his children was once John.

Wendy was married in white with a pink sash. It is strange to think
that Peter did not alight in the church and forbid the banns.

Years rolled on again, and Wendy had a daughter. This ought not to
be written in ink but in a golden splash.

She was called Jane, and always had an odd inquiring look, as if from
the moment she arrived on the mainland she wanted to ask questions.
When she was old enough to ask them they were mostly about Peter Pan.
She loved to hear of Peter, and Wendy told her all she could remember
in the very nursery from which the famous flight had taken place.
It was Jane's nursery now, for her father had bought it at the three
per cents from Wendy's father, who was no longer fond of stairs. Mrs.\ Darling
was now dead and forgotten.

There were only two beds in the nursery now, Jane's and her nurse's;
and there was no kennel, for Nana also had passed away. She died of
old age, and at the end she had been rather difficult to get on with;
being very firmly convinced that no one knew how to look after children
except herself.

Once a week Jane's nurse had her evening off; and then it was Wendy's
part to put Jane to bed. That was the time for stories. It was Jane's
invention to raise the sheet over her mother's head and her own, this
making a tent, and in the awful darkness to whisper:

{}``What do we see now?''

{}``I don't think I see anything to-night,'' says Wendy, with a
feeling that if Nana were here she would object to further conversation.

{}``Yes, you do,'' says Jan, {}``you see when you were a little
girl.''

{}``That is a long time ago, sweetheart,'' says Wendy. {}``Ah me,
how time flies!''

{}``Does it fly,'' asks the artful child, {}``the way you flew
when you were a little girl?''

{}``The way I flew? Do you know, Jane, I sometimes wonder whether
I ever did really fly.''

{}``Yes, you did.''

{}``The dear old days when I could fly!''

{}``Why can't you fly now, mother?''

{}``Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget
the way.''

{}``Why do they forget the way?''

{}``Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless. It
is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly.''

{}``What is gay and innocent and heartless? I do wish I were gay
and innocent and heartless.''

Or perhaps Wendy admits she does see something.

{}``I do believe,'' she says, {}``that it is this nursery.''

{}``I do believe it is,'' says Jane. {}``Go on.''

They are now embarked on the great adventure of the night when Peter
flew in looking for his shadow.

{}``The foolish fellow,'' says Wendy, {}``tried to stick it on
with soap, and when he could not he cried, and that woke me, and I
sewed it on for him.''

{}``You have missed a bit,'' interrupts Jane, who now knows the
story better than her mother. {}``When you saw him sitting on the
floor crying, what did you say?''

{}``I sat up in bed and I said, `Boy, why are you crying?'''

{}``Yes, that was it,'' says Jane, with a big breath.

{}``And then he flew us all away to the Neverland and the fairies
and the pirates and the redskins and the mermaid's lagoon, and the
home under the ground, and the little house.''

{}``Yes! which did you like best of all?''

{}``I think I liked the home under the ground best of all.''

{}``Yes, so do I.\  What was the last thing Peter ever said to you?''

{}``The last thing he ever said to me was, `Just always be waiting
for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing.'''

{}``Yes,''

{}``But, alas, he forgot all about me,'' Wendy said it with a smile.
She was as grown up as that.

{}``What did his crow sound like?''\ Jane asked one evening.

{}``It was like this,'' Wendy said, trying to imitate Peter's crow.

{}``No, it wasn't,'' Jane said gravely, {}``it was like this'';
and she did it ever so much better than her mother.

Wendy was a little startled. {}``My darling, how can you know?''

{}``I often hear it when I am sleeping,'' Jane said.

{}``Ah yes, many girls hear it when they are sleeping, but I was
the only one who heard it awake.''

{}``Lucky you,'' said Jane.

And then one night came the tragedy. It was the spring of the year,
and the story had been told for the night, and Jane was now asleep
in her bed. Wendy was sitting on the floor, very close to the fire,
so as to see to darn, for there was no other light in the nursery;
and while she sat darning she heard a crow. Then the window blew open
as of old, and Peter dropped in on the floor.

He was exactly the same as ever, and Wendy saw at once that he still
had all his first teeth.

He was a little boy, and she was grown up. She huddled by the fire
not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman.

{}``Hullo, Wendy,'' he said, not noticing any difference, for he
was thinking chiefly of himself; and in the dim light her white dress
might have been the nightgown in which he had seen her first.

{}``Hullo, Peter,'' she replied faintly, squeezing herself as small
as possible. Something inside her was crying Woman, Woman, let go
of me.''

{}``Hullo, where is John?''\ he asked, suddenly missing the third
bed.

{}``John is not here now,'' she gasped.

{}``Is Michael asleep?''\ he asked, with a careless glance at Jane.

{}``Yes,'' she answered; and now she felt that she was untrue to
Jane as well as to Peter.

{}``That is not Michael,'' she said quickly, lest a judgment should
fall on her.

Peter looked. {}``Hullo, is it a new one?''

{}``Yes.''

{}``Boy or girl?''

{}``Girl.''

Now surely he would understand; but not a bit of it.

{}``Peter,'' she said, faltering, {}``are you expecting me to fly
away with you?''

{}``Of course; that is why I have come.'' He added a little sternly,
{}``Have you forgotten that this is spring cleaning time?''

She knew it was useless to say that he had let many spring cleaning
times pass.

{}``I can't come,'' she said apologetically, {}``I have forgotten
how to fly.''

{}``I'll soon teach you again.''

{}``O Peter, don't waste the fairy dust on me.''

She had risen; and now at last a fear assailed him. {}``What is it?''\ he
cried, shrinking.

{}``I will turn up the light,'' she said, {}``and then you can
see for yourself.''

For almost the only time in his life that I know of, Peter was afraid.
{}``Don't turn up the light,'' he cried.

She let her hands play in the hair of the tragic boy. She was not
a little girl heart-broken about him; she was a grown woman smiling
at it all, but they were wet eyed smiles.

Then she turned up the light, and Peter saw. He gave a cry of pain;
and when the tall beautiful creature stooped to lift him in her arms
he drew back sharply.

{}``What is it?''\ he cried again.

She had to tell him.

{}``I am old, Peter. I am ever so much more than twenty. I grew up
long ago.''

{}``You promised not to!''

{}``I couldn't help it. I am a married woman, Peter.''

{}``No, you're not.''

{}``Yes, and the little girl in the bed is my baby.''

{}``No, she's not.''

But he supposed she was; and he took a step towards the sleeping child
with his dagger upraised. Of course he did not strike. He sat down
on the floor instead and sobbed; and Wendy did not know how to comfort
him, though she could have done it so easily once. She was only a
woman now, and she ran out of the room to try to think.

Peter continued to cry, and soon his sobs woke Jane. She sat up in
bed, and was interested at once.

{}``Boy,'' she said, {}``why are you crying?''\ 

Peter rose and bowed to her, and she bowed to him from the bed.

{}``Hullo,'' he said.

{}``Hullo,'' said Jane.

{}``My name is Peter Pan,'' he told her.

{}``Yes, I know.''

{}``I came back for my mother,'' he explained, {}``to take her
to the Neverland.''

{}``Yes, I know,'' Jane said, {}``I have been waiting for you.''

When Wendy returned diffidently she found Peter sitting on the bed-post
crowing gloriously, while Jane in her nighty was flying round the
room in solemn ecstasy.

{}``She is my mother,'' Peter explained; and Jane descended and
stood by his side, with the look in her face that he liked to see
on ladies when they gazed at him.

{}``He does so need a mother,'' Jane said.

{}``Yes, I know.'' Wendy admitted rather forlornly; {}``no one
knows it so well as I.''

{}``Good-bye,'' said Peter to Wendy; and he rose in the air, and
the shameless Jane rose with him; it was already her easiest way of
moving about.

Wendy rushed to the window.

{}``No, no,'' she cried.

{}``It is just for spring cleaning time,'' Jane said, {}``he wants
me always to do his spring cleaning.''

{}``If only I could go with you,'' Wendy sighed.

{}``You see you can't fly,'' said Jane.

Of course in the end Wendy let them fly away together. Our last glimpse
of her shows her at the window, watching them receding into the sky
until they were as small as stars.

As you look at Wendy, you may see her hair becoming white, and her
figure little again, for all this happened long ago. Jane is now a
common grown-up, with a daughter called Margaret; and every spring
cleaning time, except when he forgets, Peter comes for Margaret and
takes her to the Neverland, where she tells him stories about himself,
to which he listens eagerly. When Margaret grows up she will have
a daughter, who is to be Peter's mother in turn; and thus it will
go on, so long as children are gay and innocent and heartless.
\end{document}
