was not in the water that they met. Hook rose to the rock
to breathe, and at the same moment Peter scaled it on the opposite side.
The rock was slippery as a ball, and they had to crawl rather than
climb. Neither knew that the other was coming. Each feeling for a grip
met the other's arm: in surprise they raised their heads; their faces
were almost touching; so they met.

Some of the greatest heroes have confessed that just before they fell to
they had a sinking. Had it been so with Peter at that moment I would
admit it. After all, this was the only man that the Sea-Cook had feared.
But Peter had no sinking, he had one feeling only, gladness; and he
gnashed his pretty teeth with joy. Quick as thought he snatched a knife
from Hook's belt and was about to drive it home, when he saw that he was
higher up the rock than his foe. It would not have been fighting fair.
He gave the pirate a hand to help him up.

It was then that Hook bit him.

Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Peter. It made
him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Every child is
affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he
has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you
have been unfair to him he will love you again, but he will never
afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first
unfairness; no one except Peter. He often met it, but he always forgot
it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the rest.

So when he met it now it was like the first time; and he could just
stare, helpless. Twice the iron hand clawed him.

A few minutes afterwards the other boys saw Hook in the water striking
wildly for the ship; no elation on his pestilent face now, only white
fear, for the crocodile was in dogged pursuit of him. On ordinary
occasions the boys would have swum alongside cheering; but now they were
uneasy, for they had lost both Peter and Wendy, and were scouring the
lagoon for them, calling them by name. They found the dinghy and went
home in it, shouting 'Peter, Wendy' as they went, but no answer came
save mocking laughter from the mermaids. 'They must be swimming back or
flying,' the boys concluded. They were not very anxious, they had such
faith in Peter. They chuckled, boylike, because they would be late for
bed; and it was all mother Wendy's fault!

When their voices died away there came cold silence over the lagoon, and
then a feeble cr