ence to his present girth, and
instead of reducing himself to fit his tree he had, unknown to the
others, whittled his tree to make it fit him.

Sufficient of this Hook guessed to persuade him that Peter at last lay
at his mercy; but no word of the dark design that now formed in the
subterranean caverns of his mind crossed his lips; he merely signed that
the captives were to be conveyed to the ship, and that he would be
alone.

How to convey them? Hunched up in their ropes they might indeed be
rolled down hill like barrels, but most of the way lay through a morass.
Again Hook's genius surmounted difficulties. He indicated that the
little house must be used as a conveyance. The children were flung into
it, four stout pirates raised it on their shoulders, the others fell in
behind, and singing the hateful pirate chorus the strange procession set
off through the wood. I don't know whether any of the children were
crying; if so, the singing drowned the sound; but as the little house
disappeared in the forest, a brave though tiny jet of smoke issued from
its chimney as if defying Hook.

Hook saw it, and it did Peter a bad service. It dried up any trickle of
pity for him that may have remained in the pirate's infuriated breast.

The first thing he did on finding himself alone in the fast falling
night was to tiptoe to Slightly's tree, and make sure that it provided
him with a passage. Then for long he remained brooding; his hat of ill
omen on the sward, so that a gentle breeze which had arisen might play
refreshingly through his hair. Dark as were his thoughts his blue eyes
were as soft as the periwinkle. Intently he listened for any sound from
the nether world, but all was as silent below as above; the house under
the ground seemed to be but one more empty tenement in the void. Was
that boy asleep, or did he stand waiting at the foot of Slightly's tree,
with his dagger in his hand?

There was no way of knowing, save by going down. Hook let his cloak slip
softly to the ground, and then biting his lips till a lewd blood stood
on them, he stepped into the tree. He was a brave man; but for a moment
he had to stop there and wipe his brow, which was dripping like a
candle. Then silently he let himself go into the unknown.

He arrived unmolested at the foot of the shaft, and stood still again,
biting at his breath, which had almost left him. As his eyes became
accustomed to the dim light various objects in the home under the