The pirate attack had been a complete surprise: a sure proofthat the unscrupulous Hook had conducted it improperly, for tosurprise redskins fairly is beyond the wit of the white man.

By all the unwritten laws of savage warfare it is always theredskin who attacks, and with the wiliness of his race he does itjust before the dawn, at which time he knows the courage of thewhites to be at its lowest ebb. The white men have in themeantime made a rude stockade on the summit of yonder undulatingground, at the foot of which a stream runs, for it is destructionto be too far from water. There they await the onslaught, theinexperienced ones clutching their revolvers and treading ontwigs, but the old hands sleeping tranquilly until just beforethe dawn. Through the long black night the savage scoutswriggle, snake-like, among the grass without stirring a blade. The brushwood closes behind them, as silently as sand into whicha mole has dived. Not a sound is to be heard, save when theygive vent to a wonderful imitation of the lonely call of thecoyote. The cry is answered by other braves; and some of them doit even better than the coyotes, who are not very good at it. So the chill hours wear on, and the long suspense is horriblytrying to the paleface who has to live through it for the firsttime; but to the trained hand those ghastly calls and stillghastlier silences are but an intimation of how the night ismarching.

That this was the usual procedure was so well known to Hookthat in disregarding it he cannot be excused on the plea ofignorance.

The Piccaninnies, on their part, trusted implicitly to hishonour, and their whole action of the night stands out in markedcontrast to his. They left nothing undone that was consistentwith the reputation of their tribe. With that alertness of thesenses which is at once the marvel and despair of civilisedpeoples, they knew that the pirates were on the island from themoment one of them trod on a dry stick; and in an incrediblyshort space of time the coyote cries began. Every foot of groundbetween the spot where Hook had landed his forces and the homeunder the trees was stealthily examined by braves wearing theirmocassins with the heels in front. They found only one hillockwith a stream at its base, so that Hook had no choice; here hemust establish himself and wait for just before the dawn. Everything being thus mapped out with almost diabolical cunning,the main body of the redskins folded their blankets around them,and in the phlegmatic manner that is to them, the pearl of manhoodsquatted above the children's home, awaiting the cold moment whenthey should deal pale death.

Here dreaming, though wide-awake, of the exquisite tortures towhich they were to put him at break of day, those confidingsavages were found by the treacherous Hook. From the accountsafterwards supplied by such of the scouts as escaped thecarnage, he does not seem even to have paused at the risingground, though it is certain that in that grey light he must haveseen it: no thought of waiting to be attacked appears from firstto last to have visited his subtle mind; he would not even holdoff till the night was nearly spent; on he pounded with no policybut to fall to [get into combat]. What could the bewilderedscouts do, masters as they were of every war-like artifice savethis one, but trot helplessly after him, exposing themselvesfatally to view, while they gave pathetic utterance to thecoyote cry.

Around the brave Tiger Lily were a dozen of her stoutestwarriors, and they suddenly saw the perfidious pirates bearingdown upon them. Fell from their eyes then the film through whichthey had looked at victory. No more would they torture at thestake. For them the happy hunting-grounds was now. They knew it;but as their father's sons they acquitted themselves. Even thenthey had time to gather in a phalanx [dense formation] that wouldhave been hard to break had they risen quickly, but this theywere forbidden to do by the traditions of their race. It iswritten that the noble savage must never express surprise in thepresence of the white. Thus terrible as the sudden appearance ofthe pirates must have been to them, they remained stationary fora moment, not a muscle moving; as if the foe had come byinvitation. Then, indeed, the tradition gallantly upheld, theyseized their weapons, and the air was torn with the war-cry; butit was now too late.

It is no part of ours to describe what was a massacre ratherthan a fight. Thus perished many of the flower of thePiccaninny tribe. Not all unavenged did they die, for with LeanWolf fell Alf Mason, to disturb the Spanish Main no more, andamong others who bit the dust were Geo. Scourie, Chas. Turley,and the Alsatian Foggerty. Turley fell to the tomahawk of theterrible Panther, who ultimately cut a way through the pirateswith Tiger Lily and a small remnant of the tribe.

To what extent Hook is to blame for his tactics on thisoccasion is for the historian to decide. Had he waited on therising ground till the proper hour he and his men would probablyhave been butchered; and in judging him it is only fair to takethis into account. What he should perhaps have done was toacquaint his opponents that he proposed to follow a new method. On the other hand, this, as destroying the element of surprise,would have made his strategy of no avail, so that the wholequestion is beset with difficulties. One cannot at leastwithhold a reluctant admiration for the wit that had conceivedso bold a scheme, and the fell [deadly] genius with which it wascarried out.

What were his own feelings about himself at that triumphantmoment? Fain [gladly] would his dogs have known, as breathingheavily and wiping their cutlasses, they gathered at a discreetdistance from his hook, and squinted through their ferret eyes atthis extraordinary man. Elation must have been in his heart, buthis face did not reflect it: ever a dark and solitary enigma, hestood aloof from his followers in spirit as in substance.

The night's work was not yet over, for it was not the redskinshe 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, Panand Wendy and their band, but chiefly Pan.

Peter was such a small boy that one tends to wonder at theman's hatred of him. True he had flung Hook's arm to thecrocodile, but even this and the increased insecurity of life towhich it led, owing to the crocodile's pertinacity [persistance],hardly account for a vindictiveness so relentless and malignant. The truth is that there was a something about Peter which goadedthe pirate captain to frenzy. It was not his courage, it was nothis engaging appearance, it was not --. There is no beating aboutthe bush, for we know quite well what it was, and have got totell. It was Peter's cockiness.

This had got on Hook's nerves; it made his iron claw twitch,and at night it disturbed him like an insect. While Peter lived,the tortured man felt that he was a lion in a cage into which asparrow had come.

The question now was how to get down the trees, or how to gethis dogs down? He ran his greedy eyes over them, searching forthe thinnest ones. They wriggled uncomfortably, for they knew hewould not scruple [hesitate] to ram them down with poles.

In the meantime, what of the boys? We have seen them at thefirst clang of the weapons, turned as it were into stone figures,open-mouthed, all appealing with outstretched arms to Peter; andwe return to them as their mouths close, and their arms fall totheir sides. The pandemonium above has ceased almost as suddenlyas it arose, passed like a fierce gust of wind; but they knowthat 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 heardPeter's answer.

"If the redskins have won," he said, "they will beat the tom-tom; it is always their sign of victory."

Now Smee had found the tom-tom, and was at that moment sittingon it. "You will never hear the tom-tom again," he muttered, butinaudibly of course, for strict silence had been enjoined[urged]. To his amazement Hook signed him to beat the tom-tom, and slowly there came to Smee an understanding of the dreadfulwickedness of the order. Never, probably, had this simple manadmired Hook so much.

Twice Smee beat upon the instrument, and then stopped to listengleefully.

"The tom-tom," the miscreants heard Peter cry; "an Indianvictory!"The doomed children answered with a cheer that was music to theblack hearts above, and almost immediately they repeated theirgood-byes to Peter. This puzzled the pirates, but all theirother feelings were swallowed by a base delight that the enemywere about to come up the trees. They smirked at each other andrubbed their hands. Rapidly and silently Hook gave his orders: one man to each tree, and the others to arrange themselves in aline two yards apart.