nearer them they turned from him.

Tootles' face was very white, but there was a dignity about him now that
had never been there before.

'I did it,' he said, reflecting. 'When ladies used to come to me in
dreams, I said, "Pretty mother, pretty mother." But when at last she
really came, I shot her.'

He moved slowly away.

'Don't go,' they called in pity.

'I must,' he answered, shaking; 'I am so afraid of Peter.'

It was at this tragic moment that they heard a sound which made the
heart of every one of them rise to his mouth. They heard Peter crow.

'Peter!' they cried, for it was always thus that he signalled his
return.

'Hide her,' they whispered, and gathered hastily around Wendy. But
Tootles stood aloof.

Again came that ringing crow, and Peter dropped in front of them.
'Greeting, boys,' he cried, and mechanically they saluted, and then
again was silence.

He frowned.

'I am back,' he said hotly, 'why do you not cheer?'

They opened their mouths, but the cheers would not come. He overlooked
it in his haste to tell the glorious tidings.

'Great news, boys,' he cried, 'I have brought at last a mother for you
all.'

Still no sound, except a little thud from Tootles as he dropped on his
knees.

'Have you not seen her?' asked Peter, becoming troubled. 'She flew this
way.'

'Ah me,' one voice said, and another said, 'Oh, mournful day.'

Tootles rose. 'Peter,' he said quietly, 'I will show her to you'; and
when the others would still have hidden her he said, 'Back, twins, let
Peter see.'

So they all stood back, and let him see, and after he had looked for a
little time he did not know what to do next.

'She is dead,' he said uncomfortably. 'Perhaps she is frightened at
being dead.'

He thought of hopping off in a comic sort of way till he was out of
sight of her, and then never going near the spot any more. They would
all have been glad to follow if he had done this.

But there was the arrow. He took it from her heart and faced his band.

'Whose arrow?' he demanded sternly.

'Mine, Peter,' said Tootles on his knees.

'Oh, dastard hand,' Peter said, and he raised the arrow to use it as a
dagger.

Tootles did not flinch. He bared his breast.

'Strike, Peter,' he said firmly, 'strike true.'

Twice did Peter raise the arrow, and twice did his hand fall. 'I cannot
strike,' he said with awe, 'there is something stays my hand.'

All looked at him in wonder, save Nibs, who fortunately look