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"Do be more polite to him," Wendy whispered to John, when they were playing "Follow my
Leader."
"Then tell him to stop showing off," said John.
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When playing Follow my Leader, Peter would fly close to the water and touch each shark's tail in
passing, just as in the street you may run your finger along an iron railing. They could not follow him
in this with much success, so perhaps it was rather like showing off, especially as he kept looking
behind to see how many tails they missed.
"You must be nice to him," Wendy impressed on her brothers. "What could we do if he were to leave
us!"
"We could go back," Michael said.
"How could we ever find our way back without him?"
"Well, then, we could go on," said John.
"That is the awful thing, John. We should have to go on, for we don't know how to stop."
This was true, Peter had forgotten to show them how to stop.
John said that if the worst came to the worst, all they had to do was to go straight on, for the world
was round, and so in time they must come back to their own window.
"And who is to get food for us, John?"
"I nipped a bit out of that eagle's mouth pretty neatly, Wendy."
"After the twentieth try," Wendy reminded him. "And even though we became good a picking up
food, see how we bump against clouds and things if he is not near to give us a hand."
Indeed they were constantly bumping. They could now fly strongly, though they still kicked far too
much; but if they saw a cloud in front of them, the more they tried to avoid it, the more certainly did
they bump into it. If Nana had been with them, she would have had a bandage round Michael's
forehead by this time.
Peter was not with them for the moment, and they felt rather lonely up there by themselves. He could
go so much faster than they that he would suddenly shoot out of sight, to have some adventure in
which they had no share. He would come down laughing over something fearfully funny he had been
saying to a star, but he had already forgotten what it was, or he would come up with mermaid scales
still sticking to him, and yet not be able to say for certain what had been happening. It was really
rather irritating to children who had never seen a mermaid.
"And if he forgets them so quickly," Wendy argued, "how can we expect that he will go on
remembering us?"
Indeed, sometimes when he returned he did not remember them, at least not well. Wendy was sure of
it. She saw recognition come into his eyes as he was about to pass them the time of day and go on;
once even she had to call him by name.
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"I'm Wendy," she said agitatedly.
He was very sorry. "I say, Wendy," he whispered to her, "always if you see me forgetting you, just
keep on saying `I'm Wendy,' and then I'll remember."
Of course this was rather unsatisfactory. However, to make amends he showed them how to lie out
flat on a strong wind that was going their way, and this was such a pleasant change that they tried it
several times and found that they could sleep thus with security. Indeed they would have slept
longer, but Peter tired quickly of sleeping, and soon he would cry in his captain voice, "We get off
here." So with occasional tiffs, but on the whole rollicking, they drew near the Neverland; for after
many moons they did reach it, and, what is more, they had been going pretty straight all the time, not
perhaps so much owing to the guidance of Peter or Tink as because the island was looking for them.
It is only thus that any one may sight those magic shores.
"There it is," said Peter calmly.
"Where, where?"
"Where all the arrows are pointing."
Indeed a million golden arrows were pointing it out to the children, all directed by their friend the
sun, who wanted them to be sure of their way before leaving them for the night.
Wendy and John and Michael stood on tip-toe in the air to get their first sight of the island. Strange
to say, they all recognized it at once, and until fear fell upon them they hailed it, not as something
long dreamt of and seen at last, but as a familiar friend to whom they were returning home for the
holidays.
"John, there's the lagoon."
"Wendy, look at the turtles burying their eggs in the sand."
"I say, John, I see your flamingo with the broken leg!"
"Look, Michael, there's your cave!"
"John, what's that in the brushwood?"
"It's a wolf with her whelps. Wendy, I do believe that's your little whelp!"
"There's my boat, John, with her sides stove in!"
"No, it isn't. Why, we burned your boat."
"That's her, at any rate. I say, John, I see the smoke of the redskin camp!"
"Where? Show me, and I'll tell you by the way smoke curls whether they are on the war-path."
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"There, just across the Mysterious River."
"I see now. Yes, they are on the war-path right enough."
Peter was a little annoyed with them for knowing so much, but if he wanted to lord it over them his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]