was broken, and something gave Peter a
loving little pinch.

"Then tell her," Wendy begged, "to put out her light."

"She can't put it out. That is about the only thing fairies can't do. It
just goes out of itself when she falls asleep, same as the stars."

"Then tell her to sleep at once," John almost ordered.

"She can't sleep except when she's sleepy. It is the only other thing
fairies can't do."

"Seems to me," growled John, "these are the only two things worth
doing."

Here he got a pinch, but not a loving one.

"If only one of us had a pocket," Peter said, "we could carry her in
it." However, they had set off in such a hurry that there was not a
pocket between the four of them.

He had a happy idea. John's hat!

Tink agreed to travel by hat if it was carried in the hand. John carried
it, though she had hoped to be carried by Peter. Presently Wendy took
the hat, because John said it struck against his knee as he flew; and
this, as we shall see, led to mischief, for Tinker Bell hated to be
under an obligation to Wendy.

In the black topper the light was completely hidden, and they flew on in
silence. It was the stillest silence they had ever known, broken once by
a distant lapping, which Peter explained was the wild beasts drinking at
the ford, and again by a rasping sound that might have been the branches
of trees rubbing together, but he said it was the redskins sharpening
their knives.

Even these noises ceased. To Michael the loneliness was dreadful. "If
only something would make a sound!" he cried.

As if in answer to his request, the air was rent by the most tremendous
crash he had ever heard. The pirates had fired Long Tom at them.

The roar of it echoed through the mountains, and the echoes seemed to
cry savagely, "Where are they, where are they, where are they?"

Thus sharply did the terrified three learn the difference between an
island of make-believe and the same island come true.

When at last the heavens were steady again, John and Michael
found themselves alone in the darkness. John was treading the air
mechanically, and Michael without knowing how to float was floating.

"Are you shot?" John whispered tremulously.

"I haven't tried [myself out] yet," Michael whispered back.

We know now that no one had been hit. Peter, however, had been carried
by the wind of the shot far out to sea, while Wendy was blown upwards
with no companion but Tinker Bell.

It would have been well for