ld get well
again if children believed in fairies.

Peter flung out his arms. There were no children there, and it was
night-time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Neverland,
and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls in
their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.

'Do you believe?' he cried.

Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate.

She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again she
wasn't sure.

'What do you think?' she asked Peter.

'If you believe,' he shouted to them, 'clap your hands; don't let Tink
die.'

Many clapped.

Some didn't.

A few little beasts hissed.

The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed to
their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; but already Tink was
saved. First her voice grew strong; then she popped out of bed; then she
was flashing through the room more merry and impudent than ever. She
never thought of thanking those who believed, but she would have liked
to get at the ones who had hissed.

'And now to rescue Wendy.'

The moon was riding in a cloudy heaven when Peter rose from his tree,
begirt with weapons and wearing little else, to set out upon his
perilous quest. It was not such a night as he would have chosen. He had
hoped to fly, keeping not far from the ground so that nothing unwonted
should escape his eyes; but in that fitful light to have flown low would
have meant trailing his shadow through the trees, thus disturbing the
birds and acquainting a watchful foe that he was astir.

He regretted now that he had given the birds of the island such strange
names that they are very wild and difficult of approach.

There was no other course but to press forward in redskin fashion, at
which happily he was an adept. But in what direction, for he could not
be sure that the children had been taken to the ship? A slight fall of
snow had obliterated all footmarks; and a deathly silence pervaded the
island, as if for a space Nature stood still in horror of the recent
carnage. He had taught the children something of the forest lore that he
had himself learned from Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell, and knew that in
their dire hour they were not likely to forget it. Slightly, if he had
an opportunity, would blaze the trees, for instance, Curly would drop
seeds, and Wendy would leave her handkerchief at some important place.
But morning was needed to search