"Peter," shouted another, "she is moving in her sleep."

"Her mouth opens," cried a third, looking respectfully into it.
"Oh, lovely!"

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

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


"I wish I had a pretty house,
The littlest ever seen,
With funny little red 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 and roof
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."

"Please, sir," Peter explained, "a lady lies very ill."

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

"Tut, tut, tut," he said, "where does she lie?"

"In yonder glade."

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moment when the glass thing was withdrawn.

"How is she?" inquired Peter.

"Tut, tut, tut," said Slightly, "this has cured her."

"I am glad!" Peter cried.

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

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

"If only we knew," said one, "the kind of house she likes
best."

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

"Please, sir," said Peter, going to him, "are you a doctor?"

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

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

"Yes, my little man," anxiously replied Slightly, who had
chapped knuckles.

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

"Curly," said Peter in his most captainy voice, "see that these
boys help in the building of the house."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Build a house?" exclaimed John.

"For the Wendy," said Curly.

"For Wendy?" John said, aghast. "Why, she is only a girl!"

"That," explained Curly, "is why we are her servants."

"You? Wendy's servants!"

"Yes," said Peter, "and you also. Away with them."

The astounded brothers were dragged away to hack and hew and
carry. "Chairs and a fender [fireplace] first," Peter ordered.
"Then we shall build a house round them."

"Ay," said Slightly, "that is how a house is built; it all
comes back to me."

Peter thought of everything. "Slightly," he cried, "fetch a
doctor."

"John, John," Michael would cry, "wake up! Where is Nana,
John, and mother?"

And then John would rub his eyes and mutter, "It is true, we
did fly."

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

"Hullo, Peter," they said.

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

"Is Wendy asleep?" they asked.

"Yes."

"That,"

said Slightly, "is was I was thinking."

"But if she lies there," Tootles said, "she will die."

"Ay, she will die," Slightly admitted, "but there is no way
out."

"Yes, there is," cried Peter. "Let us build a little house
round her."

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

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

"See," he said, "the arrow struck against this. It is the kiss
I gave her. It has saved her life."

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

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

"Listen to Tink," said Curly, "she is crying because the Wendy lives."

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

"Listen, Tinker Bell," he cried, "I am your friend no more.
Begone from me for ever."

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

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

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

"Let us carry her down into the house," Curly suggested.

"Ay," said Slightly, "that is what one does with ladies."

"No, no," Peter said, "you must not touch her. It would not be
sufficiently respectful."

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

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

"It is she," he cried, "the Wendy lady, see, her arm!"

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

"She lives," Peter said briefly.

Slightly cried instantly, "The Wendy lady lives."

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

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

"Whose arrow?" he demanded sternly.

"Mine, Peter," said Tootles on his knees.

"Oh, dastard hand," Peter said, and he raised the arrow to use
it as a dagger.

Tootles did not flinch. He bared his breast. "Strike, Peter,"
he said firmly, "strike true."

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

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

"She is dead," he said uncomfortably. "Perhaps she is
frightened at being dead."

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

He frowned.

"I am back," he said hotly, "why do you not cheer?"

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

"Great news, boys," he cried, "I have brought at last a mother
for you all."

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

"Have you not seen her?" asked Peter, becoming troubled. "She
flew this way."

"Ah me!" once voice said, and another said, "Oh, mournful day."

"Don't go," they called in pity.

"I must," he answered, shaking; "I am so afraid of Peter."

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

"Peter!" they cried, for it was always thus that he signalled
his return.

"Hide her," they whispered, and gathered hastily around Wendy.
But Tootles stood aloof.

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

"A lady to take care of us at last," said one of the twins,
"and you have killed her!"

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

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

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

He moved slowly away.

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

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

"A lady?" said Tootles, and fell a-trembling.

"And we have killed her," Nibs said hoarsely.

They all whipped off their caps.

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

All but Tootles

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

"Quick, Tootles, quick," she screamed. "Peter will be so
pleased."

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



Chapter 6

THE LITTLE HOUSE


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

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

"I remember," said Slightly instantly, "there are birds called
Wendies."

"See, it comes!" cried Curly, pointing to Wendy in the heavens.

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

"Hullo, Tink," cried the wondering boys.

Tink's reply rang out: "Peter wants you to shoot the Wendy."

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

"Save me, save me!" cried Nibs, falling on the ground.

"But what can we do, what can we do?"

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

"What would Peter do?" they cried simultaneously.

Almost in the same breath they cried, "Peter would look at them
through his legs."

And then, "Let us do what Peter would do."

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

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

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

"What kind of a bird, do you think?"

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

"Poor Wendy?"

Tick tick tick tick.!

Hook stood shuddering, one foot in the air.

"The crocodile!" he gasped, and bounded away, followed by his
bo'sun.

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

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

Smee had listened with growing admiration.

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


"Avast, belay, when I appear,
By fear they're overtook;
Nought's left upon your bones when you
Have shaken claws with Cook."

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

Hook nodded.

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

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

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

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

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