"What is it?" she asked, anxious about him at once.

"I can't help you, Wendy. Hook wounded me. I can neither fly
nor swim."

"Do you mean we shall both be drowned?"

"Look how the water is rising."

They put their hands over their eyes to shut out the sight.
They thought they would soon be no more. As they sat thus
something brushed against Peter as light as a kiss, and stayed
there, as if saying timidly, "Can I be of any use?"

It was the tail of a kite, which Michael had made some days
before. It had torn itself out of his hand and floated away.

"Michael's kite," Peter said without interest, but next moment
he had seized the tail, and was pulling the kite toward him.

"It lifted Michael off the ground," he cried; "why should it
not carry you?"

"Both of us!"

"It can't lift two; Michael and Curly tried."

"Let us draw lots," Wendy said bravely.