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1Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were more painful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could
2not be separated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, I think, with the riddle of his
3existence. 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
4dear ways of her own invention, and when he grew calmer to put him back to bed before he quite woke up, so that he
5should not know of the indignity to which she had subjected him. But on this occasion he had fallen at once into a
6dreamless sleep. One arm dropped over the edge of the bed, one leg was arched, and the unfinished part of his laugh was
7stranded on his mouth, which was open, showing the little pearls. Thus defenceless Hook found him. He stood silent at
8the foot of the tree looking across the chamber at his enemy. Did no feeling of compassion disturb his sombre breast?
9The man was not wholly evil; he loved flowers (I have been told) and sweet music (he was himself no mean performer on
10the harpsichord); and, let it be frankly admitted, the idyllic nature of the scene stirred him profoundly. Mastered by
11his better self he would have returned reluctantly up the tree, but for one thing. What stayed him was Peter's
12impertinent appearance as he slept. The open mouth, the drooping arm, the arched knee: they were such a personification
13of cockiness as, taken together, will never again, one may hope, be presented to eyes so sensitive to their
14offensiveness. They steeled Hook's heart. If his rage had broken him into a hundred pieces every one of them would have
15disregarded the incident, and leapt at the sleeper. Though a light from the one lamp shone dimly on the bed, Hook stood
16in darkness himself, and at the first stealthy step forward he discovered an obstacle, the door of Slightly's tree. It
17did not entirely fill the aperture, and he had been looking over it. Feeling for the catch, he found to his fury that it
18was low down, beyond his reach. To his disordered brain it seemed then that the irritating quality in Peter's face and
19figure visibly increased, and he rattled the door and flung himself against it. Was his enemy to escape him after all?
20But what was that? The red in his eye had caught sight of Peter's medicine standing on a ledge within easy reach. He
21fathomed what it was straightaway, and immediately knew that the sleeper was in his power. Lest he should be taken
22alive, Hook always carried about his person a dreadful drug, blended by himself of all the death-dealing rings that had
23come into his possession. These he had boiled down into a yellow liquid quite unknown to science, which was probably the
24most virulent poison in existence. Five drops of this he now added to Peter's cup. His hand shook, but it was in
25exultation rather than in shame. As he did it he avoided glancing at the sleeper, but not lest pity should unnerve him;
26merely to avoid spilling. Then one long gloating look he cast upon his victim, and turning, wormed his way with
27difficulty up the tree. As he emerged at the top he looked the very spirit of evil breaking from its hole. Donning his
28hat at its most rakish angle, he wound his cloak around him, holding one end in front as if to conceal his person from
29the night, of which it was the blackest part, and muttering strangely to himself, stole away through the trees. Peter
30slept on. The light guttered and went out, leaving the tenement in darkness; but still he slept. It must have been not
31less 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
32cautious tapping on the door of his tree. Soft and cautious, but in that stillness it was sinister. Peter felt for his
33dagger till his hand gripped it. Then he spoke. "Who is that?" For long there was no answer: then again the knock. "Who
34are you?" No answer. He was thrilled, and he loved being thrilled. In two strides he reached the door. Unlike Slightly's
35door, it filled the aperture, so that he could not see beyond it, nor could the one knocking see him. "I won't open
36unless you speak," Peter cried. Then at last the visitor spoke, in a lovely bell-like voice. "Let me in, Peter." It was
37Tink, and quickly he unbarred to her. She flew in excitedly, her face flushed and her dress stained with mud. "What is
38it?" "Oh, you could never guess!" she cried, and offered him three guesses. "Out with it!" he shouted, and in one
39ungrammatical sentence, as long as the ribbons that conjurers pull from their mouths, she told of the capture of Wendy
40and the boys. Peter's heart bobbed up and down as he listened. Wendy bound, and on the pirate ship; she who loved
41everything to be just so! "I'll rescue her!" he cried, leaping at his weapons. As he leapt he thought of something he
42could do to please her. He could take his medicine. His hand closed on the fatal draught. "No!" shrieked Tinker Bell,
43who had heard Hook mutter about his deed as he sped through the forest. "Why not?" "It is poisoned." "Poisoned? Who
44could have poisoned it?" "Hook." "Don't be silly. How could Hook have got down here?" Alas, Tinker Bell could not
45explain this, for even she did not know the dark secret of Slightly's tree. Nevertheless Hook's words had left no room
46for doubt. The cup was poisoned. "Besides," said Peter, quite believing himself, "I never fell asleep." He raised the
47cup. No time for words now; time for deeds; and with one of her lightning movements Tink got between his lips and the
48draught, and drained it to the dregs. "Why, Tink, how dare you drink my medicine?" But she did not answer. Already she
49was reeling in the air. "What is the matter with you?" cried Peter, suddenly afraid. "It was poisoned, Peter," she told
50him softly; "and now I am going to be dead." "O Tink, did you drink it to save me?" "Yes." "But why, Tink?" Her wings
51would scarcely carry her now, but in reply she alighted on his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. She whispered
52in his ear "You silly ass," and then, tottering to her chamber, lay down on the bed. His head almost filled the fourth
53wall of her little room as he knelt near her in distress. Every moment her light was growing fainter; and he knew that
54if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run
55over 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
56that she thought she could get well again if children believed in fairies. Peter flung out his arms. There were no
57children there, and it was night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Neverland, and who were
58therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from
59trees. "Do you believe?" he cried. Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate. She fancied she heard
60answers in the affirmative, and then again she wasn't sure. "What do you think?" she asked Peter. "If you believe," he
61shouted to them, "clap your hands; don't let Tink die." Many clapped. Some didn't. A few beasts hissed. The clapping
62stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed to their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; but already
63Tink was saved. First her voice grew strong, then she popped out of bed, then she was flashing through the room more
64merry and impudent than ever. She never thought of thanking those who believed, but she would have liked to get at the
65ones who had hissed. "And now to rescue Wendy!" The moon was riding in a cloudy heaven when Peter rose from his tree,
66begirt with weapons and wearing little else, to set out upon his perilous quest. It was not such a night as he would
67have chosen. He had hoped to fly, keeping not far from the ground so that nothing unwonted should escape his eyes; but
68in that fitful light to have flown low would have meant trailing his shadow through the trees, thus disturbing birds and
69acquainting a watchful foe that he was astir.
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