ightful 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 tonight?

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 wiggled it in the wound. One
could mention many lovable traits 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 [later] he caught the word Peter.

"Most of all," Hook was saying passionately, "I want their captain,
Peter Pan. 'Twas he cut off my arm." He brandished the hook
threateningly. "I've waited long to shake his hand with this. Oh, I'll
tear him!"

"And yet," said Smee, "I have often heard you say that hook was worth a
score of hands, for combing the hair and other homely uses."

"Ay," the captain answered, "if I was a mother I would pray to have my
children born with this instead of that," and he cast a look of pride
upon his i