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The Flight
YouevenlikedNanatosaythatthiswasjustthemantelpieceoverhere,andthattheNeverlandwasallmake-believe.
OfcoursetheNeverlandhadbeenmake-believeinthosedays;butitwasrealnow,andtherewerenonight-lights,anditwasgettingdarkereverymoment,andwherewasNana?
Theyhadbeenflyingapart,buttheyhuddledclosetoPeternow.Hiscarelessmannerhadgoneatlast,hiseyesweresparkling,andatinglewentthroughthemeverytimetheytouchedhisbody.Theywerenowoverthefearsomeisland,flyingsolowthatsometimesatreegrazedtheirfeet.Nothinghorridwasvisibleintheair,yettheirprogresshadbecomeslowandlaboured,exactlyasiftheywerepushingtheirwaythroughhostileforces.SometimestheyhungintheairuntilPeterhadbeatenonitwithhisfists.
’Theydon’twantustoland,’heexplained.
’Whoarethey?’Wendywhispered,shuddering.
Buthecouldnotorwouldnotsay.TinkerBellhadbeenasleeponhisshoulder,butnowhewakenedherandsentheroninfront.
Sometimeshepoisedhimselfintheair,listeningintentlywithhishandtohisear,andagainhewouldstaredownwitheyessobrightthattheyseemedtoboretwoholestoearth.Havingdonethesethings,hewentonagain.
Hiscouragewasalmostappalling.’Doyouwantanadventurenow,’hesaidcasuallytoJohn,’orwouldyouliketohaveyourteafirst?’
Wendysaid’teafirst’quickly,andMichaelpressedherhandingratitude,butthebraverJohnhesitated.
’Whatkindofadventure?’heaskedcautiously.
’There’sapirateasleepinthepampasjustbeneathus,’Petertoldhim.
