13 Carried Off

CHAPTER 13 Carried Off Peter slept for a long time. Finally, he was awakened by a soft rapping on the door of his

tree. When he opened his eyes, it was still dark. He felt for his sword. "Who is it?" he asked. There was no answer, only another knock. "I said, who is it?" Still nothing, only silence. Peter was scared, but also excited. He loved adventures, especially ones that placed him in danger. His heart beat very fast. "I won't open unless you speak," he said. "Let me in, Peter," the visitor finally said in a lovely bell-like voice. It was Tinker Bell! Peter quickly unlocked the door and she flew in, her face flushed and her pretty dress stained with mud. Tinker Bell told Peter that Wendy and the boys had been captured and were now prisoners on the pirate ship. "I must save her!" Peter cried, leaping for his weapons. But first he would have a sip of the water

Wendy had left by his bed. His hand reached for the glass. "No!" Tinker Bell cried, for she had heard Hook mutter about his trick as he sped through the forest. "It is poisoned!" "What? How? By whom?" "Hook." "Don't be silly. How could Hook have gotten down here?" "I don't know, but he did." Peter Pan was stubborn, and thirsty, so he raised his glass anyway. Tinker Bell flew quickly between his lips and the glass and took a sip of the water instead. "Hey, that's my water," Peter protested. Tinker Bell did not answer. She was already spinning dizzily in the air, poisoned. "Tink?" Peter asked, suddenly afraid. "You should have listened to me," Tinker Bell said weakly. "Oh, Tink, why did you risk your life to save

me?" Peter asked. Her wings were weak, but she managed to land gracefully on Peter's shoulder and give his nose one last loving pinch. She whispered in his ear, "Because I love you, you silly donkey." Then she flew weakly back to her little cave and collapsed on her bed. Peter knelt near Tinker Bell's limp body in distress. His head filled almost the entire space of her room. Tink's light was growing darker. Peter knew she would die if it went out entirely. "Oh, Tink," he cried, "what can I do? I need

you. Please don't leave me now." "I think I could get well again if children believed in fairies," Tinker Bell gasped. But there were no children left in the cave! Peter stood up straight and screamed out to all of the children in the universe, to all who might be dreaming about Neverland, boys and girls in their pajamas, safe in their beds—maybe even you. "Do you believe?" he cried, and his question rang throughout the world. Tink sat up weakly in bed and listened, straining to hear her fate. She and Peter thought they heard some voices, but they weren't sure. "If you believe," Peter tried next, "clap your hands. Don't let Tink die!" This time they heard their answer: many children clapping. A few naughty, nasty children hissed, but mostly they clapped—until, that is, the clapping suddenly stopped, having been hushed by worried mothers who had rushed into

bedrooms to find out what all the commotion was about. Nevertheless, that bit of clapping was enough. Tinker Bell was saved. Back to her old self, she didn't even think of thanking the children who believed—although she did want revenge on the few who had hissed. "Now we must rescue Wendy!" Peter vowed. Oh, if only some clapping could work that magic as well. "Yes, yes, we must always think of Wendy," Tinker Bell said glumly. It was a cloudy night, not good weather for flying, so Peter pressed forward on the ground, in Indian fashion. He could not help but notice that the island was strangely quiet, as though it were still in shock from the recent battle. As Peter walked, he looked for things the boys might have dropped. He had trained them, if ever taken, to leave such clues. Slightly, for example, was to cut trees and Curly to drop seeds. Wendy