ver the sea; but on the sea one
shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them, and Peter felt
just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with
that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, 'To
die will be an awfully big adventure.'

[Illustration: "TO DIE WILL BE AN AWFULLY BIG ADVENTURE"]

CHAPTER IX

THE NEVER BIRD

The last sounds Peter heard before he was quite alone were the mermaids
retiring one by one to their bedchambers under the sea. He was too far
away to hear their doors shut; but every door in the coral caves where
they live rings a tiny bell when it opens or closes (as in all the
nicest houses on the mainland), and he heard the bells.

Steadily the waters rose till they were nibbling at his feet; and to
pass the time until they made their final gulp, he watched the only
thing moving on the lagoon. He thought it was a piece of floating paper,
perhaps part of the kite, and wondered idly how long it would take to
drift ashore.

Presently he noticed as an odd thing that it was undoubtedly out upon
the lagoon with some definite purpose, for it was fighting the tide, and
sometimes winning; and when it won, Peter, always sympathetic to the
weaker side, could not help clapping; it was such a gallant piece of
paper.

It was not really a piece of paper; it was the Never bird, making
desperate efforts to reach Peter on her nest. By working her wings, in a
way she had learned since the nest fell into the water, she was able to
some extent to guide her strange craft, but by the time Peter recognised
her she was very exhausted. She had come to save him, to give him her
nest, though there were eggs in it. I rather wonder at the bird, for
though he had been nice to her, he had also sometimes tormented her. I
can suppose only that, like Mrs. Darling and the rest of them, she was
melted because he had all his first teeth.

She called out to him what she had come for, and he called out to her
what was she doing there; but of course neither of them understood the
other's language. In fanciful stories people can talk to the birds
freely, and I wish for the moment I could pretend that this was such a
story, and say that Peter replied intelligently to the Never bird; but
truth is best, and I want to tell only what really happened. Well, not
only could they not understand each other, but they forgot their
manners.

'I--want--you--to--get--into--the--nest,