Peter Pan - JM Barrie

them on the subject. But henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after your two two is the beginning of the end. Of course, they lived at fourteen, 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 tick mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East. However many you discover,

there's always one more. And her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get though there it was perfectly conspicuous in the right hand corner. The way mister 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 mister 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. Mister 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. Missus Darling was married and 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 Missus 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. Mister Darling was frightfully proud of her, but he was very honorable, and he sat on the edge of Missus 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, ahem, 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 knot not in my check book, makes eight nine seven.

don't waggle your finger 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 Fulson's kindergarten school, accompanied

by their nurse. Missus Darling loved to have everything just so, and mister Darling had a passion for being exactly like his neighbors. 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 ne 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 bathtime 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 a stalking around your throat. She believed to her last day in old fashioned remedies like rhubarb leaf, and made sounds of contempt over all this newfangled 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 betting

them back into line if they strayed. On John's soccer day, she never once forgot his sweater, and she usually carried an umbrella in her mouth in case of rain. There's a room in the basement of miss Fulsome'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 Missus 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 mister Darling knew it. Yet he sometimes wondered uneasily whether the neighbors 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. Missus da Arling 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 gayety of these romps, the gayest of all was Missus 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. Missus Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up her children's minds.

Is the nightly custom of every good mother, after her children are asleep, to rummage in their minds and put things straight for the 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 say, 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 stewing 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's 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 color 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, needlework, murders, hangings, verbs that take the dative chocolate pudding day, getting into braces say ninety nine threepence 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. Johns, 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 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 a forever 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 in the tablecloth, it is not in the least alarming, But in the two minutes before you go to sleep, it becomes very nearly real. That is why there are night lights. Occasionally, in her travels through her children's minds, missus 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 missus 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.

doubted whether there was any such person. Besides, she said to Wendy, he would be grown up by this time. Oh no, he hasn'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 it. She just knew it. Missus Darling consulted mister Darling, but he smiled, pooh, pooh, mark my words. He said, it is just 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 Missus 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 that when they were in the wood they 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 Missus 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 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.

examined them 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 a tape down 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 Missus 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 cozy that she smiled at her fears now and sat down tranquility 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 Missus 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 Missus 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 Missus 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 missus 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.

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 Missus 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 Missus 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 mister Darling, but he was totting up winter greatcoats 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, mister Darling always said, I am responsible for it all I,

George Darling, did it. Mayaculpa, Mayaculpa. 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 twenty seven, Missus Darling said, if only I had not poured my medicine into Nana's bowl, said mister Darling.

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.

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, missus Darling, that you are now a mother, in just such a tone as mister Darling himself may have used on the real occasion. Wendy had danced with joy, just

as the real Missus 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's and 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.

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 bedpost? But round my neck, no, oh, dear, no begs to be excused, he thought. Missus 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 tonight, 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,

Missus 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 mister 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 missus Darling, now recalling it, our last romp. Mister Darling groaned, Oh, George, do you remember? Michael suddenly said to me, how did you get.

tears coming. Of course, Missus Darling brushed him, but he began to talk again about its being a mistake to have a dog for a nurse.

still discussing it. You remember, says mister 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. Missus Darling left the room to get a chocolate for him, and mister 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 me well. He really thought this was true, and Wendy, who was now in her nightgown, believed it also, and she said to encourage Michael, that medicine you sometimes take,

father is much nastier. Isn't it so much nastier? Mister 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 washstand. 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 spirit 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, mister 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 than 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'm 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 mister Darling.

Are you ready Michael. Wendy gave the words one, two, three, and Michael took his medicine, but mister Darling slipped his behind his back. There was a yell of rage from Michael, and oh father, Wendy exclaimed, what you mean by oh, father? Mister Darling demanded, stop that row, Michael. I meant to take mine, but I 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 color of milk. But the children did not have their father's sense of humor, 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 Missus 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 mister Darling such a look, not an angry look. She showed him the great red tear that makes us so sorry for noble day, and crept into her kennel. Mister Darling was frightfully ashamed of himself, but he would not give in. In a horrid silence, Missus Darling smelt the bowl. Oh 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?

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 forever. 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 tonight and anxious to get the grown ups out of the way. So as soon as the door of twenty seven closed on mister and missus Darling, there was a commotion in the firmament, and the smallest of all the stars in the milky way screamed out, now, Peter. End of chapter two.

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 umboonpoin. 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. Ting 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 King's toss happens 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 it 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. 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 Mora 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 the 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 overrated persons. Wendy, however, felt at once that she was in the presence of a tragedy. Oh, 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'd 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 patronizingly. 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 dare say 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 detached 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 bedclothes. 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. He 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's gone to, he said, rising, and he called Tink by. Wendy's heart went flutter with a sudden thrill. Peter, she cried, clutching him. You don't mean to tell me that there's 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 came 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. Oh, 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. Oh 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 a 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 arm chair by this time, and Wendy plied him with more questions. If you don't live

in Kensington Gardens now? 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?

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 some one 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. Oh, 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 seen 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. Oh, 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. Oh 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. Ooh, none of us has ever been tucked in at night.

was on the floor already. Hello, 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. Paul was as still as salt. Then everything was right. No, stop, everything was wrong. Nana, who'd 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 temper, 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, listened to their gentle breathing. Here, Michael, encouraged by his success, breathe 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 from 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 the chain

until at last she broke it. In another moment, she burst into the dining room of twenty seven and flung up her paws to heaven, her most expressive way of making a communication. Mister and Missus 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 returned 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 one 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 born. 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, the 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. Ooh,

and there are pirates. Pirates, cried John, seizing his Sunday hat, let us go at once. It was just at this moment that mister and Missus Darling hurried with Nana out of twenty seven. 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.

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 stared out at once into the night, followed by John and Michael and Wendy. Mister and Missus, Darling and Nana rushed into the nursery too late. The birds were flown end of chapter three, Chapter four, the flight.

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 were 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 her, and the sport then grossed

in 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 he got behind him in blue, 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 cannot 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 upon 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 at 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 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's voice, we get off here. So with occasional tips, but on the

whole rollicking they drew near the Neverland. For after many moons did they 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 was 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 tiptoe 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 is the lagoon, Wendy. Look 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, WHI 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 there are on the war path there just to cross 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 Heaven 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 he grazed their feet.

Nothing horrid was visible in the air, Yet their progress had become slow and labored 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 she 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 to sleep in the pumpas 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.

he said that hated word. Just Hook. I then, indeed, Michael began to cry, and even John could speak in gulps, only for they knew Hook's reputation. He was Blackbeard's bosin. John whispered huskily. He's the worst of them all. He's the only man of whom Barbecue was afraid. That's him, said Peter. What is he like? Is he big? He's not so big as he was. How do you mean I cut off a bit of him?

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's 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.

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 of 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 echo seemed to cry savagely, where are they? Where are they?

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, but 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. End of chapter four.

with the coming of Peter, who hates lethargy. They are under weigh 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 tonight 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 seemed 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 tonight. Take care less. An adventure is now offered you, which, if accepted, will plunge you in deepest woe, Toodles. 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. But 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, A vast belay yoho heftu a pirting we go, and if we're parted by a shot, we're

sure to meet below. A more villainous looking lot never hung in a row on execution. Doc 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 Seco 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 Guadjomeo. Here is Bill Jukes, every inch of him tattooed, the same Bill Jukes who got six dozen on the walrus from Flint before he would drop the bag of Mordores and Cookson said to be

Black Murphy's brother, but this was never proved. And gentlemen, Starkey wants an usher in a public school, and still dainty in his ways of killing, and skylights Morgan's skylights, and the Irish Bosun Smee, an oddly genial man who stabbed, so to speak, without offense, and was the only nonconformist in Hook's crew, and Noodler whose hands were fixed on backwards, and Robert 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 j A. S. 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 blackavised, 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 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 demeanor 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 color. In Drassees somewhat aped the attire associated with the name of Charles the Second, 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 grimest 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 in 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 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 bell of the pickaninnies, coquettish, cold and amorous. By turns, there is not a brave who would not have the wayward thing to wife. But she stays off the altar with

a hatchet. Serve 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 favored island. Their tongues are hanging out. They are hungry. Tonight, 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 lookout 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 favorite. 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, NIBBs told them, is that she often said to my father, Oh, how I wish I had a check book of my own. I don't know what a check 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, yo, yo, the pirate life, the flag of skull and bones, a very hour hemp and rope and hay for Davy Jones at once the lost boys. 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 reconnoiter. 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 to night? As the pirates advanced, the quick eye of Starkey sighted Nibs disappearing through the wood. Had 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, aye, 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

Bosun 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 I've often heard you say that hook was worth a score of hands for combing the

hair and other homely uses. Aye, 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 crocodile's Not of crocodile's, Hook corrected him. But of that one crocodile. He lowered his voice.

It liked my arm so much me 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. Aye, he said, that's the fear that haunts me, since sitting down he had felt curiously warm. Smee, he said,

this seed is hot. He jumped up, odds Bob's 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. Strangers 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 neighborhood. 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 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 have been waiting for it. Han, rip 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 mermaid's 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 it is to eat rich damp cake. He burst into laughter, not hollow laughter now, but honest laughter.

on it and smothered it. But as it came nearer it was more distinct.

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 Wendy's. 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 diskies of friendship and was darting at her victim from every direction, pinching savagely each time she touched. Hello, Tink, cried the wondering boys. Tink's reply rang out, Peter, want 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, Toodles, Quick, she screamed, Peter will be so pleased. Toodles 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. End of chapter.

would have all 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 sorry for themselves, and when he took a step nearer they turned from him. Tootle's face was very white, but there was a dignity about him now that there never had been before. I did it, he said, reflecting when ladies used to come to me in dreams, I always said, pretty mother, Pretty mother. But when at last she really came, I shot her. He moved slowly away. It 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 signaled his return.

a mother for you all. Still no sound except a little thud from Toodles as he dropped.

and 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 all would have been glad to follow him 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, lying, Peter said, Tootles on his knees. Oh dastard hand, Peter said, and he raised the arrow to use it as a dagger.

Toodles 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 which 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.

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 be gone from me forever. She flew on to his shoulder and pleaded, but he brushed her off. Not until Wendy raised her arm did he relent sufficiently to say, well, not forever, but for a whole week. Do you think the tinker

Bell was grateful to Wendy for raising her arm? Oh, dear, No, never wanted to pinch her so much. Fairies are indeed 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 into the house, curly, suggested, I 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 got out the house be sharp. In a moment, they were as busy as Taylor's the night before a wedding. They scurried this way and that down for betting, up for firewood. And while they were at it, who should

appear but John and Michael. As they dragged up along the ground, they fell asleep, standing, stopped, woke up, moved another feet 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. Hello, Peter, they said, Hello, 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?

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 hue and carry chairs and defender. First, Peter wrotered, then we should build a house around them, I 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, aye, aye, said slightly at once, then disappeared,

scratching his head. But as he knew Peter must be obeyed, 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 their dinners. If they broke down,

and they make believe he wrapped 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 look. 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 un said slightly. This has cured her. I am glad, said Peter. 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

cozy dwelling already lay at Wendy's feet. If we only knew, said one, the kind of house she likes, bas Peter shouted, another, she is moving in her sleep. Her mouth opens, cried a third, looking respectfully into it. Oh, lovely, Perhaps she's 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, I wish I had a pretty house, the littlest ever seen, with funny little red head walls and roof of mossy green. 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. We've built the little walls in ruth and

made a lovely door. So tell us, mother, Wendy, what are you wanting more to this? She answered greedily, Oh really, Next, I think I'll have gay windows all about, with roses peeping in, you know, and babies peeping out. With a blow of their fist, they made windows and large yellow leaves with the blinds. But roses, 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. We've made the roses peeping out. The babes are at the door. We cannot make ourselves, you know, cause we've been made before. 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 cozy 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 a bit of it. There's no chimney, said Peter. We must have a chimney. It certainly does need a chimney, said John. Importantly, that 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 cap, Jimmy, 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 was wondering was would anyone answer the knock If a lady, what would she be like? The door opened and the 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.

I have no real experience. That doesn't matter, said Peter, as if he were the only person present who knew at 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 not eat, 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 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 cozy and safe in the darkness, with a bright light showing through its blow, and the chimneys 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 ferry path at night, they would have mischief, but they just tweaked Peter's nose and passed.

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 color, which were used as stools.

A never tree tried hard to grow in the center 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 hole 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 enose rmous fireplace, which was in almost any part of the room where you cared to light it, and across this Wendy stretched strings made of fiber, from which she suspended her washing. The bed was tilted against the wall by day and let down at six thirty, 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 birdcage, 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 bedchamber 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 and authentic charming the sixth and the carpet and rugs the best. The early period of Marjorie and Robin, there was a chandelier from Tiddley Winks 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 rampageous 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 a boil 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 round her. 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 favorite 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 p 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 and 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 insists stood 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, what was the color 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 forty words on how I spent my last holidays or the characters of father and mother compared only one of these to be attempted, or one describe mother's laugh. Two, describe father's laugh. Three,

describe mother's party dress. Four 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 color of mother's eyes? And so on. Wendy, you see, had been forgetting two adventures, of course, as we shall see, were of daily occurrence.

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 him for several sons. 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.

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 today, what are you Toodles? And Toodles answered redskin, what are you? Nits? And nib

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. 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 Mermaid's Lagoon and so made her his ally. Or we could tell of that cake the Pirate's 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 one. This almost makes one wish that the

gulch or the cake or tank's leaf had won. Of course I could do it again and make it the best out of three. However, perhaps fairest to stick to the lagoon and of chapter seven of Peter Pan Chapter.

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 Marooner's 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 Marooner's 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 now have to tell Wendy had never seen the lagoon by moonlight from fear, for of course Peter would have accompanied her then. Because she had strict rules about everyone 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 colors 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 until 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 midday 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 Marooner's 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.

must stick to your rule. About half an hour after the midday 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.

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 whale would go 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 hoist the red skin 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. He now imitated the voice of hook ahoy, there you lubbers, he called. It was a marvelous 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 red skin on the rock. Smee called out, set her free. Came the astonishing answer free, yes, cut her bonds and let her go. But captain, at once, d'ye hear, cried Peter, or I'll

plunge my hook and you this is queer. Smee gasped. Better do it, the captain orders, said Starkey nervously. Aye, 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 himself. 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. Oh, 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?

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.

Twas your own orders. The bowsun faltered. You called over the water to us to let her go, said Starkey. Brimstone and Gall thundered Hook, what cousining 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, hagmer, 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 Jolly 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. Hoo, Hook, he called, have you another voice?

In the confusion, some struck at their own side. The corkscrew of Smee got tootles in the fourth rib, but he was himself pinked and turned by Curly. Further up the rock, Starkey was pressing slightly in 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 too, 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 than 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, shouted 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're 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's 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? I 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.

the sea. He was too far away to hear their doors shut, but every door in the coral caves where they 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 in to the water, she was able to some extent to guide her strange craft. But by the time Peter recognized 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 missus 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 each other, but they forgot their manners. I want you to get into the nest, the bird called, speaking as slowly and distinctly as possible, and then you can drift ashore. But I am too tired to bring it any nearer, so you must try to swim to it. What are you quacking about? Peter answered, why don't you let the nest drift as usual?

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 forgot 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 sight of buried treasure. The children had discovered the glittering horde, and when in a mischievous mood, used to fling showers of moy doors, 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.

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 taken 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 glorifying and having them all home again safe and sound, was scandalized 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 bedtime at limping about and carrying their arms in slings.

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 groveled at his feet, is glad to see the piccaninny warriors protecting his wigwam from the pirates. Meet Tiger Lily, that lovely creature, would reply, Peter, pan save me me, his very nice friend me, nor 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 sympathized 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 sque We have now reached the evening that was to be known among them as the Night of Nights, because of its adventures and their upshone the day as if quietly gathering

its forces had been almost uneventful. And now the Redskins and 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. Emil happened to be a make believe tea, and they sat around the board, guzzling in their greed and really but with their chattering 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 the toodles had pushed their elbow. There was a fixed rule that they mane 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 scandalized. 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, Doodles 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, Toodles said, getting heavier and heavier and heavier. Do you think I could be a twin?

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 am too big for a cradle. I must have somebody in a cradle, she said, almost heartily, And you are the littlest. A cradle is such a nice homely thing to have about a house, well,

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 in 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 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 humor. But we want you to dance. Peter was really the best dancer among them, but he pretended to be scandalized.

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 to 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?

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 nittled. Perhaps tinker Bell will tell me. Oh, yes, tinker Bell will tell you. Wendy retorted, scornful. She is

an abandoned little creature. Here Tink, who was in her bedroom heavesdropping, 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 none, 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 nightgowns. Such a deliciously creepy song it was, in which they pretended to be frightened at their own shadows, little wedding 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. Impossibly, if he had done either of those things, this time they might all still be on the island. But tonight he remained on his stool, and we shall see what happened.

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. Quite 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 mister 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 NIBBs. 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. Oh, Wendy, cried Tootles. Was one of the lost children, called Tootles, Yes, he was. I am in a story. Hooray, I am in a story. NIBBs. Hush, Now, I want you to consider the feelings of the unhappy parents,

with all her children flown away. Oh, they all moaned, though they were not really considering the feelings of the unhappy parents. One jot think of the empty beds. Ooh, 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? Oh, Wendy, who is she cried NIBBs, every bit as excited as if he didn't know. Can it be? Yes? No, it is 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.

entirely selfish time. And then when we have need of special attention, we nobly returned for it, confident that we shall be rewarded instead of smacked. So great indeed was their faith in a mother's love, but 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 candor, 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?

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 cooly 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 party

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, a 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 sillinness and spoke with dignity. I am this 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 son was at noon.

There 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 tire as you sow. 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.

NIBBs had to knock twice before he got an answer, though Tink had really been sitting up in bed listening for some time.

up and dress at once. I will open the curtains, and then we shall all see you in your neglige O. 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 especially for Peter, but each of the boys was thinking exclusively of himself, and at once they jumped with joy. But won't they think is rather a handful NIBBs 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 the 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 draft, for just as she had prepared it, she saw a look on his face that made her heart Sinkings 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 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 edge stick a bundle. Their first thought was that 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 mother's, he said darkly, I hope you will like them. The awful cynisen of this made an uncomfortable impression, and most of them begun to look rather doubtful. After all, their faces said, were they not noodles to want to go?

was dead silence. Mouths opened and remained open when he 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.

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 tranquility, until just before the dawn. Through the long black night, the savage scouts wriggle snakelike among the grass, without stirring a blade. The brushwood closes behind them as silently as sand into which shimole has dived. Not a sound is to be heard, save when they give vent to a wonderful imitation and

the lonely call of the coyote. The cry is answered by other braves, some of them do it even better than the coyotes, who are not very good at it. So the chill hours wear on and a long suspense is horribly trying to the pale face who has to live through it for the first time. But to the train hand, those ghastly calls and still ghastlier silences are

but an intimation of how the night is marching. But 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 honor, and their election 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 civilized 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 coyute cries began. Every foot of ground between the spot where Hook had landed his forces and the home own of the trees was stealthily examined by braves wearing their mucksins 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 a phlegmatic manner, that is to them the pearl of man who had squatted above the children's home, awaiting a cold moment when they should deal pale death here,

dreaming though wide awake of the acquisite tortures to which they were to put him. Out break of day, those confiding savages were found by the treacherous Hook Bok. 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 the gray light he must have seen it. No thought of waiting to be attacked appears from first to

last to have visited his huttle 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, are they aware of every warlike artifst saved 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 gruns was now they knew it. But as their father's sons, they quitted themselves. Even then they had time to gather in a phalanx that would have

been far 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.

perished many of the flower of the Piccaninny tribe. Not all unavenged did they die for with lean Wulf fell alf Mason to disturb the spanish Man no more, And among others who bit the dust were George Scry, Charles Turley, and the Alsatian Foggerty Urley fell to the tomahawk of the Terrible Panther, who ultimately cut away through the pirates with tirely and a small remnant of the tribe. To what extent Hook is to blame for his tactics on

this occasion, it's 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. Neither hand, this as destroying the ailment 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 fel 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 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 Knight'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 in 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 armed 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 something about Peter which goaded the pirate captain to frenzy. It was not his courage, It was not his engaging appearance. It was not There is no beating about the bush, for we know quite well what it was, and had got to tell It was Peter's cockiness. This had got on Hook's nerves. It made his iron clawed twitch, and at night it disturbed him like an insect. While Peter lived, the tortured man felt that he was aligned in a

cage into which a sparrow had gone. The question now was how to get down the trees, or how to get his dogs down. He ran his eyes over them, searching for the thinnest ones. They readled uncomfortably, for they knew he would not scruple to ram them down with poles. In the meantime, one 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 returned 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'll 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 Silen 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 miss Grants 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 goodbyes to Peter. This puzzled the pirates, but all their other feelings were swollen by a base delight that the enemy were about to plump 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.

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 distngay that she was too fascinated to cry out she was only a little girl, perhaps at his tell tale to divulge that for a moment, hook In trees against her, And we tell on her only because her slip let the 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 trusting 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 and going round and leave no tags with which to tie a knot. The pirates kicked him in their rage, just as you kicked 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 mastermind had gone far beneath slightly surface, probing not for effects but for causes, and his exultations 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 kneeds 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 these 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 downhill 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 person 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 slight his 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 still a lewde 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 dreamed, and they were more painful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not be separated from those 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 defenseless hook found him. He stood silent at the foot of the tree, looking across the chamber at his head. Enemy. Did no feeling of compassion disturb his somber 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 hunt, undred pieces, every one of them would have disregarded the incident and leaped at the sleeper. Though a light from the one lamp shone dimly on the bed, Hooks stood in darkness himself, and at the first stealthy step forward he discovered an obstacle, the door of slightly stree. 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 straight away, and immediately knew that the sleep 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 rings 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 than 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, 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 doore, 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 can never guess, she cried, and offered him three guesses. Out with it, he shouted, and in one ungrammatical sentence, as long as the ribbons the conjurors pulled 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 ever to be just so I'll rescue her, he cried, leaping at his weapons. As he leaped, he thought of something he could do to please her. He could take his medicine. His hand closed on the fatal draft. No, shrieked Tinker Pell, 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?

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. Oh Tink, did you drink it to save me?

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.

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, but girt 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 a fly own 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 red skinned 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 the space on which the moonlight played, one finger on his lip and his dagger at the ready. He was frightfully happy.

could have reached the shore. There were little sound, and none agreeable, save the whirr 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

teers and made it flow. Of this, as of almost everything else, Smee was quite unconscious a few of the pirates lent over the bulwarks, drinking in the miasma of the night. Others sprawled by barrel over games of dice and cards. And the exhausted four who had carried little House laid 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, oh man, unfathomable. It was his hour of triumph. Peter had been removed forever from his path, and all the other boys were in the brig about to walk the plank. It was his grimaced deed since the days when he had brought barbecue to heal. And knowing as we do, how vain a tabernacle is manned, could we be surprised had he now paced the deck unsteadily, bellied out by the wind of

his success. But there was no elation in his gait, which kept pace with the action of his somber 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 inscribable man never felt more alone than once 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 get, he had been at a famous public school, and its tradition 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 appeared to his walk to the school's distinguished slouch. But above all he retained the passion for a 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 in good form today? Was their eternal question. Fame, fame, that glittering bauble at his 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? What house caimed? The cutting report most disquieting reflection of all. Was it not a 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 doublets. Oft times he drew his sleeve across his face, but there was no damning that trickle ah and be not Hook. There came to him a presentiment of his early dissolution. It was as if Peter's terrible oath had bordered 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 I had never troubled him before. Perhaps a 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, took itch 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. Good form had the boats in good form without knowing it, which is the best form of all. You remember that you have to prove you don't know you have it before you're eligible for pop. With a cry of rage, he raised his iron hand over Smee's head, but he did not take 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 poose 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?

it to be? Don't irritate him unnecessarily have been when these 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.

you that here, Bully, if you join? What do you think? Michael asked John? What would you call me if I joined? 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 at the king? John inquired brew 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 don't

ask now. Then I refuse, he cried, banging the barrel in front of Hook. And I refuse, cried Michael. Rule Britannia, speaked Billy. The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth, and Hook roared out, that seals your doom, and bring up their mother. Get the plank ready. They were only boys, and they went white as they saw Jukes and Checko preparing fatal plank. But they tried to look brave when Wendy was brought up. No words of mine can tell

you how Wendy despised these 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 in 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 around 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 gentleman, though he was, the intensity of his communings had soiled his rough, 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.

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 the 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 pick tick of the crocodile. They all heard it. Pirates, boys, Wendy, and immediately every head was blown in one direction, not to the water. Whence the sound proceeded, but toward a hook. All knew that what was about to happen concerned him alone, and that from being actors there were suddenly becoming spectators. Very frightful was it to see the chains that came

over him. It was as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heat. The sound came steadily nearer, and in advance of it came this ghastly thought the crocodile was about to board the ship. Even the iron claw hung inactive, as if knowing that it was no intrinsic part of the attacking force wanted let left so fearfully alone any other man. Riblin 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 on board. 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 strange surprise of the night of Nights, for it was no crocodile that was coming to their aid. It was Peter. He signed them not to give vent to any cry of admiration that might arise suspicion. Then he went on taking end Chapter fourteen.

his lips and his dagger at the ready. He had seen the crocodile pass by without noticing anything peculiar it, but by and bye 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 dick, so that wild beasts should believe he was the crocodile and let

him pass unmolestic. 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 passed 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 boat the brick 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 covering from him with hook in their midst, as abject as if he had heard the crocodile the crocodile. No sooner did it be to remember it than he heard the ticking. At first he thought the sound did come from the crocodile, and he looked behind him swiftly. Then he realized 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 it taint. 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 groom. 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 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 stood Johnny Plank he cried, brazenly, hating the boys more than ever because they had seen him unbent. He broke into the villainous ditty. Yo ho yo ho, the frisky blank. You walks along it so till it goes down, and

you goes down to Davy Jones below. 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 on nine days before? You walked 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.

Aye aye, 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. Yo ho, yo oh, Hold the scratch chain cat. Its tails are nine, you know, and when they are writ upon your back. 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 Checko hesitated for a moment, and then swung into the cabin. He tottered out, haggard, what's the matter with Bill Jukes? You talk, hissed Hook, towering over him. The matter with him is he's dead, stad replied Checko in a hollow voice. Bill

Jukes dead, cried the startled pirates. The cabin's as black as a pit, Checko said, almost gibbering. But there is something terrible in there. The thing you heard crowing, the exaltation of the boys, the lowering looks of the pirates, both were seen by Hook Checko. He said, in his most steely voice, Go back and fetch me out that doodledoo. Checko, bravest of the brave, covered before his captain, crying no, no, But Hook was purring to his claw. Did you say

you would go, Checko? He said, musingly. Checko went first, flinging his arms despairingly. There was no more singing or listen now and again came a dead screech, and again a crow. No one spoke except slightly three, he said, Hook rallied Stalks with a gesture. Is depth the nought's fish? He thundered, Who is to bring me that doodledoo? Wait till Cheko 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, Starky cried, my hook, thinks you did, said Hook, crossing to him. I wonder if it would not be advisable Starky to humor the hook. I'll swim 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. Starky is ringleader Captain Mercy. Starky whimpered, all of it tremble Now, shake hands, Starcky, 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 said Hook courteously. Did any other gentleman say mutiny? Seizing a lantern and raising his claw with a menacing gesture. I'll bring out that doodledom 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 a checko, demanded Noodler, he's as dead as Juke's, said Hook. Shortly. His reluctance to return to the cabin impressed them all unfavorably, and the mutinous sounds again broke forth. All pirates are superstitious, and cooksin cried. They do say. The surest sign a ship's accursed is when there's one on board more than

can be accounted for. I've heard, muttered Mullins. He always boats the pirate craft. Last had he a tale captain, they say, said another, looking viciously at Hook, That when he comes in the likeness of the wickedest man aboard. Had he a hook? Captain asked Cooksen 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 licked 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 crew 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 that 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 o meet 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 panicstritten. 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 casual or strike as need be, But never quailing for an instant, I thought it out. There's a jonah aboard, aye, they snarled, a man with

a hook. Now, lads, no, it's the girl. Never was luck on a pirate ship with a woman on board. We'll ride the ship when she is gone. Some of them remembered that this had been a saying of flints. It's worth trying, they said, doubtfully. Fling the girl overboard, cried Hook, and they made a rush at the figure in the cloak. This nun can save you. Now, Missy Mullin's hest 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 it was 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 fear's heart broke. At last he cried, cleave them to the briskette, 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.

There was little sound to be heard, but the clang of weapons, an occasional screech or splash, and slightly monotonously counting five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, 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 shield, when another, who had just passed his sword through mulleins, sprang into the Fray. Put up your swords, boys, cried the newcomer, this man a small 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 a strange smile upon his face. So pan said Hook, at last,

this is all you are doing, aye, 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 with 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 anone He followed up a faint with a lunge that caught past his for's defense, but his shorter reag stood him in ill stead, and

he could not dry the steel home. Hook, scarcely, his inferior and 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 favorite thrust, taught him long ago by barbecue at rio. But to his astonishment he found his thrust turned aside again and again. Then he sought to close and give the quietness 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 color 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 the tragic feeling that Peter was showing good form hit heurto 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. Dot 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's zone. And again an 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 a 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 sympathizing with him that in the end he was true to the traditions of his race. The other boys were flying round him now, flouting scornful, and he staggered about the deck, striking up at them impotently. His mind was

no longer with them. It was louching in the playing fields of long ago, or being sent up to the headmaster 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 bone 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 James 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 pirate's bunks pretty quickly, you may be sure, all but Peter, who strotted 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. End of Chapter fifteen.

woman aboard. The rest were tars before the mast and lived in the forecastle. 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 hardies, 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 returned the ship round and nosed her for the mainland. Captain Pan calculated, after consulting the ship's art, that if this weather lasted, they should strike the Azores about the twenty first of June, after which it would save time

to fly. Some of them wanted it to be an honest ship, and others were in favor 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 one person after another, as they had to captain Hook, 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 number fourteen all this time, And yet we may be sure that missus 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?

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 cun It would be the moral lesson that they have been in

need of ever since we met them. But if we contrived things in this way, Missus 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 leaped 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 Missus Darling may not even offer Wendy her mouth, and mister Darling may exclaim pittishly.

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 no longer there. When the children flew away, mister Darling felt in his bones, that all the blame was his for having changed 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 missus 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 mister Darling did, he had to do it 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 mister 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 neighbors. 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 criticized his little home, and he always lifted his hat courteously to any lady who looked inside. It may have been quizotic, 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, missus 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 gayety 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 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 her 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're on their 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, Oh, 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 mister Darling put 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. She had no imagination, It 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 Eliza. 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 missus 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 draft. Oh, George, he ever 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 ridden 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 whispered, close the window, bar it. That's right now, You and I must get away by that 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 back, 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 what 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 missus 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 mister Darling was asleep. It would have been sad if those had been the first words he heard as 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 this 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 served them right. It is very careless of mother, said the young scoundrel John, not to be here when we come back. It was then that missus 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 for having gone. 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 missus 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 envelope 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 mister 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 in noomble that other children can never know, But he was looking through the window at the one joy from which he must be forever barred.

They said nothing, but their eyes asked her to have them. They ought to have looked at mister Darling also, but they forgot about him.

was behaving unworthily, but he could not help it. We could lie doubled up, said NIBBs. I always cut their hair myself, said Wendy. George, missus Darling exclaimed, pained to see her dear one showing himself in such an unfavorable 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 like a cipher in his own house. I don't think he

is a cipher, Tootles cried instantly. Do you think he is a cipher? Curly, No, I don't. Do you think he is a cipher?

so soon I should 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, Oh, 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 missus 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 missus Darling tightened her grip. I thought all the fairies were dead, missus Darling said. There are always a lot of young ones, explained Wendy, who is not 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 one 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 around, She reminded him. A little tartly, sneaky, tell tale tink called out from somewhere round the corner.

It doesn't matter, Peter said, Oh, Peter, you know it matters. Well, then come with me to the little house, may I?

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 hapeney 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 missus Darling's kiss with him, the kiss that had been for no one else took

quite easily funny, but she seemed satisfied. Of course, all the boys went to school, and most of them got into class three, but slightly was put first into class four and then into class five. Class one 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 bedposts 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 bye 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 the 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 out the old ones from his mind. Who is Captain Hook, he asked her 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 killed 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? Oh, 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 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 Peter did not alight in the church and forbid the bands. 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 three percents from Wendy's father, who was no longer fond of stairs. Missus 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 her 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 in her own, thus making a tent and in the awful darkness to whisper, what do.

when I could fly? Why can't you fly now?

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.

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. Hello, 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. Hello 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. Jahn 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?

Oh Peter, don't waste the fairy dust on me. She had risen, and now at last a fear assailed him.

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.

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, oh, said Jane. My name is Peter Pan He told her, Yes, I know. I came back from 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 bedpost 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 a look on her face that he'd 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. Goodbye, 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.

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 from 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 so it will go on, so long

as children are gay and innocent and heartless. End of Chapter seventeen.