Пітер Пен і Венді

           Thenight’sworkwasnotyetover,foritwasnottheredskinshehadcomeouttodestroy;theywerebutthebeestobesmoked,sothatheshouldgetatthehoney.ItwasPanhewanted,PanandWendyandtheirband,butchieflyPan.

           Peterwassuchasmallboythatonetendstowonderattheman’shatredofhim.TruehehadflungHook’sarmtothecrocodile;buteventhisandtheincreasedinsecurityoflifetowhichitled,owingtothecrocodile’spertinacity,hardlyaccountforavindictivenesssorelentlessandmalignant.ThetruthisthattherewasasomethingaboutPeterwhichgoadedthepiratecaptaintofrenzy.Itwasnothiscourage,itwasnothisengagingappearance,itwasnot—.Thereisnobeatingaboutthebush,forweknowquitewellwhatitwas,andhavegottotell.ItwasPeter’scockiness.

           ThishadgotonHook’snerves;itmadehisironclawtwitch,andatnightitdisturbedhimlikeaninsect.WhilePeterlived,thetorturedmanfeltthathewasalioninacageintowhichasparrowhadcome.

           Thequestionnowwashowtogetdownthetrees,orhowtogethisdogsdown?Heranhisgreedyeyesoverthem,searchingforthethinnestones.Theywriggleduncomfortably,fortheyknewhewouldnotscrupletoramthemdownwithpoles.

           Inthemeantime,whatoftheboys?Wehaveseenthematthefirstclangofweapons,turnedasitwereintostonefigures,open-mouthed,allappealingwithoutstretchedarmstoPeter;andwereturntothemastheirmouthsclose,andtheirarmsfalltotheirsides