The more quickly this horror is disposed of the better. Thefirst to emerge from his tree was Curly. He rose out of it intothe arms of Cecco, who flung him to Smee, who flung him toStarkey, who flung him to Bill Jukes, who flung him to Noodler,and so he was tossed from one to another till he fell at the feetof the black pirate. All the boys were plucked from their treesin this ruthless manner; and several of them were in the airat 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 otherswere being gagged. He did it with such an air, he was sofrightfully DISTINGUE [imposingly distinguished], that she wastoo fascinated to cry out. She was only a little girl.

Perhaps it is tell-tale to divulge that for a moment Hookentranced her, and we tell on her only because her slip led tostrange results. Had she haughtily unhanded him (and we shouldhave loved to write it of her), she would have been hurledthrough the air like the others, and then Hook would probably nothave been present at the tying of the children; and had he notbeen at the tying he would not have discovered Slightly'ssecret, and without the secret he could not presently have madehis foul attempt on Peter's life.

They were tied to prevent their flying away, doubled up withtheir knees close to their ears; and for the trussing of them theblack pirate had cut a rope into nine equal pieces. All wentwell until Slightly's turn came, when he was found to be likethose irritating parcels that use up all the string in goinground and leave no tags [ends] with which to tie a knot. Thepirates kicked him in their rage, just as you kick the parcel(though in fairness you should kick the string); and strange tosay it was Hook who told them to belay their violence. His lipwas curled with malicious triumph. While his dogs were merelysweating because every time they tried to pack the unhappy ladtight in one part he bulged out in another, Hook's master mindhad gone far beneath Slightly's surface, probing not for effectsbut for causes; and his exultation showed that he had found them. Slightly, white to the gills, knew that Hook had surprised[discovered] his secret, which was this, that no boy so blown outcould use a tree wherein an average man need stick. PoorSlightly, most wretched of all the children now, for he was in apanic about Peter, bitterly regretted what he had done. Madlyaddicted to the drinking of water when he was hot, he had swelledin consequence to his present girth, and instead of reducinghimself to fit his tree he had, unknown to the others, whittledhis tree to make it fit him.

Sufficient of this Hook guessed to persuade him that Peter atlast lay at his mercy, but no word of the dark design that nowformed in the subterranean caverns of his mind crossed his lips; hemerely 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 mightindeed be rolled down hill like barrels, but most of the way laythrough 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 ontheir shoulders, the others fell in behind, and singing thehateful pirate chorus the strange procession set off through thewood. I don't know whether any of the children were crying; ifso, the singing drowned the sound; but as the little housedisappeared in the forest, a brave though tiny jet of smokeissued from its chimney as if defying Hook.

Hook saw it, and it did Peter a bad service. It dried up anytrickle of pity for him that may have remained in the pirate'sinfuriated breast.

The first thing he did on finding himself alone in the fastfalling night was to tiptoe to Slightly's tree, and make surethat it provided him with a passage. Then for long he remainedbrooding; his hat of ill omen on the sward, so that any gentlebreeze which had arisen might play refreshingly through his hair. Dark as were his thoughts his blue eyes were as soft as theperiwinkle. Intently he listened for any sound from the netherworld, but all was as silent below as above; the house under theground seemed to be but one more empty tenement in the void. Wasthat boy asleep, or did he stand waiting at the foot ofSlightly's tree, with his dagger in his hand?

There was no way of knowing, save by going down. Hook let hiscloak slip softly to the ground, and then biting his lips till alewd blood stood on them, he stepped into the tree. He was abrave man, but for a moment he had to stop there and wipe his brow,which was dripping like a candle. Then, silently, he let himselfgo into the unknown.

He arrived unmolested at the foot of the shaft, and stood stillagain, biting at his breath, which had almost left him. As hiseyes became accustomed to the dim light various objects in thehome under the trees took shape; but the only one on which hisgreedy gaze rested, long sought for and found at last, was thegreat bed. On the bed lay Peter fast asleep.

Unaware of the tragedy being enacted above, Peter hadcontinued, for a little time after the children left, to playgaily on his pipes: no doubt rather a forlorn attempt to proveto himself that he did not care. Then he decided not to take hismedicine, so as to grieve Wendy. Then he lay down on the bedoutside the coverlet, to vex her still more; for she had alwaystucked them inside it, because you never know that you may notgrow chilly at the turn of the night. Then he nearly cried; butit struck him how indignant she would be if he laughed instead;so he laughed a haughty laugh and fell asleep in the middle ofit.

Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were morepainful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not beseparated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, I think, with the riddle of his existence. Atsuch times it had been Wendy's custom to take him out of bed andsit with him on her lap, soothing him in dear ways of her owninvention, and when he grew calmer to put him back to bed beforehe quite woke up, so that he should not know of the indignity towhich she had subjected him. But on this occasion he had fallenat once into a dreamless sleep. One arm dropped over the edge ofthe bed, one leg was arched, and the unfinished part of his laughwas stranded on his mouth, which was open, showing the littlepearls.

Thus defenceless Hook found him. He stood silent at the footof the tree looking across the chamber at his enemy. Did nofeeling of compassion disturb his sombre breast? The man was notwholly evil; he loved flowers (I have been told) and sweet music(he was himself no mean performer on the harpsichord); and, letit be frankly admitted, the idyllic nature of the scene stirredhim profoundly. Mastered by his better self he would havereturned 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 weresuch a personification of cockiness as, taken together, willnever again, one may hope, be presented to eyes so sensitive totheir offensiveness. They steeled Hook's heart. If his rage hadbroken him into a hundred pieces every one of them would havedisregarded the incident, and leapt at the sleeper.

Though a light from the one lamp shone dimly on the bed, Hookstood in darkness himself, and at the first stealthy step forwardhe discovered an obstacle, the door of Slightly's tree. It didnot 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 thatthe irritating quality in Peter's face and figure visiblyincreased, 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 ofPeter's medicine standing on a ledge within easy reach. Hefathomed what it was straightaway, and immediately knew that thesleeper was in his power.

Lest he should be taken alive, Hook always carried about hisperson a dreadful drug, blended by himself of all the death-dealing rings that had come into his possession. These he hadboiled down into a yellow liquid quite unknown to science, whichwas probably the most virulent poison in existence.

Five drops of this he now added to Peter's cup. His handshook, but it was in exultation rather than in shame. As he didit he avoided glancing at the sleeper, but not lest pity shouldunnerve him; merely to avoid spilling. Then one long gloatinglook he cast upon his victim, and turning, wormed his way withdifficulty up the tree. As he emerged at the top he looked thevery spirit of evil breaking from its hole. Donning his hat atits most rakish angle, he wound his cloak around him, holding oneend in front as if to conceal his person from the night, of whichit was the blackest part, and muttering strangely to himself,stole away through the trees.

Peter slept on. The light guttered [burned to edges] andwent 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 hespoke.

"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 strideshe reached the door. Unlike Slightly's door, it filled theaperture [opening], so that he could not see beyond it, nor couldthe 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 inexcitedly, her face flushed and her dress stained with mud.

"What is it?"

"Oh, you could never guess!" she cried, and offered him threeguesses. "Out with it!" he shouted, and in one ungrammaticalsentence, as long as the ribbons that conjurers [magicians] pullfrom their mouths, she told of the capture of Wendy and the boys.

Peter's heart bobbed up and down as he listened. Wendy bound,and on the pirate ship; she who loved everything to be just so!

"I'll rescue her!" he cried, leaping at his weapons. As heleapt he thought of something he could do to please her. Hecould take his medicine.

His hand closed on the fatal draught.

"No!" shrieked Tinker Bell, who had heard Hook mutter about hisdeed as he sped through the forest.

"Why not?"

"It is poisoned."

"Poisoned? Who could have poisoned it?"

"Hook."

"Don't be silly. How could Hook have got down here?"

Alas, Tinker Bell could not explain this, for even she did notknow the dark secret of Slightly's tree. Nevertheless Hook'swords had left no room for doubt. The cup was poisoned.

"Besides," said Peter, quite believing himself "I never fellasleep."

He raised the cup. No time for words now; time for deeds; andwith one of her lightning movements Tink got between his lips andthe draught, and drained it to the dregs.

"Why, Tink, how dare you drink my medicine?"

But she did not answer. Already she was reeling in the air.

"What is the matter with you?" cried Peter, suddenly afraid.

"It was poisoned, Peter," she told him softly; "and now I amgoing to be dead."

"O Tink, did you drink it to save me?"

"Yes."

"But why, Tink?"

Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in reply shealighted on his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. Shewhispered in his ear "You silly ass," and then, tottering to herchamber, lay down on the bed.

His head almost filled the fourth wall of her little room as heknelt near her in distress. Every moment her light was growingfainter; and he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful fingerand let them run over it.

Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out whatshe said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thoughtshe could get well again if children believed in fairies.

Peter flung out his arms. There were no children there, and itwas night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of theNeverland, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think:boys and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in theirbaskets hung from trees.

"Do you believe?" he cried.

Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate.

She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and thenagain she wasn't sure.

"What do you think?" she asked Peter.

"If you believe," he shouted to them, "clap your hands; don'tlet Tink die."

Many clapped.

Some didn't.

A few beasts hissed.

The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers hadrushed to their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; butalready Tink was saved. First her voice grew strong, then shepopped out of bed, then she was flashing through the room moremerry and impudent than ever. She never thought of thankingthose who believed, but she would have like to get at the oneswho had hissed.

"And now to rescue Wendy!"

The moon was riding in a cloudy heaven when Peter rose from histree, begirt [belted] with weapons and wearing little else, toset out upon his perilous quest. It was not such a night as hewould have chosen. He had hoped to fly, keeping not far from theground so that nothing unwonted should escape his eyes; but inthat fitful light to have flown low would have meant trailing hisshadow through the trees, thus disturbing birds and acquainting awatchful foe that he was astir.

He regretted now that he had given the birds of the island suchstrange names that they are very wild and difficult of approach.

There was no other course but to press forward in redskinfashion, at which happily he was an adept [expert]. But in whatdirection, for he could not be sure that the children had beentaken to the ship? A light fall of snow had obliterated allfootmarks; and a deathly silence pervaded the island, as if for aspace Nature stood still in horror of the recent carnage. He hadtaught the children something of the forest lore that he hadhimself learned from Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell, and knew that intheir dire hour they were not likely to forget it. Slightly, ifhe had an opportunity, would blaze [cut a mark in] the trees, forinstance, Curly would drop seeds, and Wendy would leave herhandkerchief at some important place. The morning was needed tosearch for such guidance, and he could not wait. The upper worldhad called him, but would give no help.

The crocodile passed him, but not another living thing, not asound, not a movement; and yet he knew well that sudden deathmight 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, hedarted across a space on which the moonlight played, one fingeron his lip and his dagger at the ready. He was frightfullyhappy.