but soon the boys appear again, for the procession must continue indefinitely until one of the parties stops or changes its pace. Then quickly they will be on top of each other.
All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but none suspects that the danger may be creeping up from behind. This shows how real the island was.
The first to fall out of the moving circle was the boys. They flung themselves down on the sward, close to their underground home.
“I do wish Peter would come back,” every one of them said nervously, though in height and still more in breadth they were all larger than their captain.
“I am the only one who is not afraid of the pirates,” Slightly said, in the tone that prevented his being a general favourite, but perhaps some distant sound disturbed him, for he added hastily, “but I wish he would come back, and tell us whether he has heard anything more about Cinderella.”
They talked of Cinderella, and Tootles was confident that his mother must have been very like her.
It was only in Peter’s absence that they could speak of mothers, the subject being forbidden by him as silly.
“All I remember about my mother,” Nibs told them, “is that she often said to father, ‘Oh, how I wish I had a cheque-bookof my own!’ I don’t know what a cheque-book is, but I should just love to give my mother one.”
While they talked they heard a distant sound. You or I, not being wild things of the woods, would have heard nothing, but they heard it, and it was the grim song:
“Yo ho, yo ho, the pirate life,
The flag o’ skull and bones,
A merry hour, a hempen rope,
And hey for Davy Jones.”
At once the lost boys—but where are they? They are no longer there. Rabbits could not have disappeared more quickly.
I will tell you where they are. With the exception of Nibs, who has darted away to reconnoitre, they are already in their home under the ground, a very delightful residence of which we shall see a good deal presently. But how have they reached it? For there is no entrance to be seen, not so much as a large stone, which if rolled away would disclose the mouth of a cave. Look closely, however, and you may note that there are here seven large trees, each with a hole in its hollow trunk as large as a boy. These are the seven entrances to the home under the ground, for which Hook has been searching in vain these many moons. Will he find it to-night?
As the pirates advanced, the quick eye of Starkey sighted Nibs disappearing through the wood, and at once his pistol flashed out. But an iron claw gripped his shoulder.
“Captain, let go!” he cried, writhing.
Now for the first time we hear the voice of Hook. It was a black voice. “Put back that pistol first,” it said threateningly.
“It was one of those boys you hate. I could have shot him dead.”
“Ay, and the sound would have brought Tiger Lily’s redskins upon us. Do you want to lose your scalp?”
“Shall I after him, Captain,” asked pathetic Smee, “and tickle him with Johnny Corkscrew?” Smee had pleasant names for everything, and his cutlass was Johnny Corkscrew, because he wriggled it in the wound. One could mention many lovabletraits in Smee. For instance, after killing, it was his spectacles he wiped instead of his weapon.
“Johnny’s a silent fellow,” he reminded Hook.
“Not now, Smee,” Hook said darkly. “He is only one, and I want to mischief all the seven. Scatter and look for them.”
The pirates disappeared among the trees, and in a moment their captain and Smee were alone. Hook heaved a heavy sigh, and I know not why it was, perhaps it was because of the soft beauty of the evening, but there came over him a desire to confide to his faithful bo’sun the story of his life. He spoke long and earnestly, but what it was all about Smee, who was rather stupid, did not know in the least.
Anon he caught the word Peter.
“Most of all,” Hook was saying passionately, “I want their captain, Peter Pan.
All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but none suspects that the danger may be creeping up from behind. This shows how real the island was.
The first to fall out of the moving circle was the boys. They flung themselves down on the sward, close to their underground home.
“I do wish Peter would come back,” every one of them said nervously, though in height and still more in breadth they were all larger than their captain.
“I am the only one who is not afraid of the pirates,” Slightly said, in the tone that prevented his being a general favourite, but perhaps some distant sound disturbed him, for he added hastily, “but I wish he would come back, and tell us whether he has heard anything more about Cinderella.”
They talked of Cinderella, and Tootles was confident that his mother must have been very like her.
It was only in Peter’s absence that they could speak of mothers, the subject being forbidden by him as silly.
“All I remember about my mother,” Nibs told them, “is that she often said to father, ‘Oh, how I wish I had a cheque-bookof my own!’ I don’t know what a cheque-book is, but I should just love to give my mother one.”
While they talked they heard a distant sound. You or I, not being wild things of the woods, would have heard nothing, but they heard it, and it was the grim song:
“Yo ho, yo ho, the pirate life,
The flag o’ skull and bones,
A merry hour, a hempen rope,
And hey for Davy Jones.”
At once the lost boys—but where are they? They are no longer there. Rabbits could not have disappeared more quickly.
I will tell you where they are. With the exception of Nibs, who has darted away to reconnoitre, they are already in their home under the ground, a very delightful residence of which we shall see a good deal presently. But how have they reached it? For there is no entrance to be seen, not so much as a large stone, which if rolled away would disclose the mouth of a cave. Look closely, however, and you may note that there are here seven large trees, each with a hole in its hollow trunk as large as a boy. These are the seven entrances to the home under the ground, for which Hook has been searching in vain these many moons. Will he find it to-night?
As the pirates advanced, the quick eye of Starkey sighted Nibs disappearing through the wood, and at once his pistol flashed out. But an iron claw gripped his shoulder.
“Captain, let go!” he cried, writhing.
Now for the first time we hear the voice of Hook. It was a black voice. “Put back that pistol first,” it said threateningly.
“It was one of those boys you hate. I could have shot him dead.”
“Ay, and the sound would have brought Tiger Lily’s redskins upon us. Do you want to lose your scalp?”
“Shall I after him, Captain,” asked pathetic Smee, “and tickle him with Johnny Corkscrew?” Smee had pleasant names for everything, and his cutlass was Johnny Corkscrew, because he wriggled it in the wound. One could mention many lovabletraits in Smee. For instance, after killing, it was his spectacles he wiped instead of his weapon.
“Johnny’s a silent fellow,” he reminded Hook.
“Not now, Smee,” Hook said darkly. “He is only one, and I want to mischief all the seven. Scatter and look for them.”
The pirates disappeared among the trees, and in a moment their captain and Smee were alone. Hook heaved a heavy sigh, and I know not why it was, perhaps it was because of the soft beauty of the evening, but there came over him a desire to confide to his faithful bo’sun the story of his life. He spoke long and earnestly, but what it was all about Smee, who was rather stupid, did not know in the least.
Anon he caught the word Peter.
“Most of all,” Hook was saying passionately, “I want their captain, Peter Pan.
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