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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.
We've all three been up against some rotten bad luck, haven't we? Good-by, then. I'll go up to Tootles now." "No, no," she said, "don't. That'd bring my old uncle to life right away. She'd guess you was in on this, all right. Slip off and let me have a chance with my movie stuff." With a mixture of emotion and hilarity she suddenly waved the check above her head.
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.
He wasn't in the mood to have a thing like that hanging over him. So we concentrated on Tootles. And pretty early in the proceedings we saw that the only way to get Tootles worked up to the spirit of the thing was to introduce sweets of some sort as a sub-motive, so to speak.
That boy's got a big heart and he's generous and kind, and he won't forget. I brought you here for this, such a chance as it was, and if I can see you properly fixed up and happy, my old uncle's little bit of velvet will have come in mighty useful, eh? Got a plan for to-night?" Tootles nodded again. "If I don't win to-night," she said, "it's all over.
"I cannot strike," he said with awe, "there is something stays my hand." All looked at him in wonder, save Nibs, who fortunately looked at Wendy. "It is she," he cried, "the Wendy lady, see, her arm!" Nibs bent over her and listened reverently. "I think she said, 'Poor Tootles," he whispered. "She lives," Peter said briefly. Slightly cried instantly, "The Wendy lady lives."
At this moment Wendy was grand. 'These are my last words, dear boys, she said firmly. 'I feel that I have a message to you from your real mothers, and it is this: "We hope our sons will die like English gentlemen." Even the pirates were awed; and Tootles cried out hysterically, 'I am going to do what my mother hopes. What are you to do, Nibs? 'What my mother hopes. What are you to do, Twin?
'I cannot strike, he said with awe, 'there is something stays my hand. All looked at him in wonder, save Nibs, who fortunately looked at Wendy. 'It is she, he cried, 'the Wendy lady; see, her arm. Wonderful to relate, Wendy had raised her arm. Nibs bent over her and listened reverently. 'I think she said "Poor Tootles," he whispered. 'She lives, Peter said briefly.
There was a sense of humanity about this girl that had the effect of a magnet. She inspired confidence, as Martin did. "Thanks most awfully," said Tootles. "You're kinder than you think to let me stay here. And I'm glad you're going to sit down for a bit. I like you, and I don't mind who knows it." "And I like you," said Joan. And they both laughed again, feeling like children.
If she loved him, poor little soul, and he was not made of the stuff to take advantage of it, well, there it was. He, himself, was different, but then he had no Joan as a silent third. No, he would let things alone. Poor old Tootles. "Great weather," he said, wrenching the conversation into a harmless generality. "Are you sleeping on the yawl to-night?" "Yes," replied Martin.
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