Chapter Four

Peter sped away from his friends with all the bravado of a superhero and the forward planning of a firefly – in other words, none at all. Still, he had a fairly good idea of where the Injuns had been until recently, and was confident that, if they had moved on (either from choice, or because they were being hounded by Hook and his men) then he would be able to track them without too much trouble.

He soared high above the Petrified Forest, scanning it constantly for any clue to the whereabouts of the Injun boys.

"I'd spot their campfire if it was evening!" he thought to himself " … but I can't waste the whole day waiting for that! They were near the coast last I saw of them, planning a sneak attack on Old Hooky: that's the best place to start searching for them ………. "

Suddenly he remembered what Wendy had said about sensing 'something nasty' above her, in the sky. Instead of going into a shallow dive towards the treetops as he'd intended he flipped onto his back, putting his hands behind his head to form a comfortable pillow.

Hovering on the spot, he looked all around. Nothing seemed untoward or out of place: above him only sky, around him nothing more dangerous than fluffy white clouds.

From this vantage point he had an uninterrupted view of the whole of the Petrified Forest below and all routes which led out of it, either inland or towards the bay where Hook's ship had most recently been moored. Everything seemed perfectly 'normal', he thought – or as normal as things can be in a magical place such as Neverland – but at the same instant he realised that he didn't really have a clue what the 'something nasty' Wendy had been so frightened by might be, or what it looked like ….. it might have been a good idea to ask, before you charged off on your own, he thought to himself, then frowned. Where did that piece of sensible, grown-up nonsense come from? It certainly wasn't in his nature to be sensible or plan ahead, think of possible dangers ….. was this another (and most unwelcome!) sign of maturity, of growing up? Because if it was, he wanted no part of it!

Clear skies, no danger, he decided. Flipping back onto his stomach he angled himself towards a tree which stood slightly taller than those nearest to it on the edge of the forest closest to the shoreline. If Hook's ship was still in the bay, he would be able to see it from there without being spotted if any of the crew happened to be keeping watch.

As he reached his target, Peter stretched both arms out and grasped the very tip of the topmost branch lightly, swinging around the tree three or four times for the sheer fun of it before dropping to stand on a convenient bough which allowed him to poke his head above the top layer of leaves. Hook's ship was still in the bay, he noted. That was good. At least he knew where his old enemy was: he wouldn't have to go searching for him.

Now, if only the Injun Boys were as easy to track down…….

On his toes, light as the shadow which danced at his feet, Peter hopped from branch to branch until he was close to ground level. None of the branches he landed on quivered for more than a split-second: not even the most observant of Hook's crew ordered to perform sentry duty would have had grounds to suspect his presence.

Just before he dropped from the lowest bough to the soft pile of fir needles around the base of the tree, Peter stiffened. Somebody (or something) was making its stealthy way along the path which snaked past his vantage point. He concentrated hard, focussing all his senses on the disturbance as it approached. It was too cautious to be a band of pirates returning from patrol: surely that only left one possibility ……………..?

The path could only have been made by a forest dweller of some sort, certainly by one which was more comfortable moving about on four legs rather than two. Peter watched and waited as he caught occasional glimpses of three …. no, four! …. feathers which twitched along with a not-quite-syncopated rhythm, approaching the curve which would bring them directly into his line of sight.

Four Injun boys crawled around the corner on all fours, carefully lifting one arm or leg at a time as Peter had taught them, placing hands and feet carefully in the same spot as the boy in front: only the leader had to concentrate on avoiding twigs or other objects which might snap and give warning of their approach.

Peteer was bursting with the urge to laugh out loud, or perhaps jump down and shout "Boo!", but deep inside he knew this would not be a wise move so close to a bay in which Cap'n Hook has moored his ship. He forced himself to take deep, controlled breaths until the file of Injuns had passed the tree before he skipped down right behind the last man.

"Gotcha!" he said in a dramatic stage whisper which sounded as loud as a cannon shot in the still woodlands. With a simultaneous hiss of surprise and alarm all four spun to face him, hands reaching to the waistband for their weapons – again, as Peter had taught them.

Seeing this, he nodded his approval as they stood, bewildered, and relaxed the grip on their half-drawn swords as they recognised the person who, quite literally, 'had the drop' on them.

If only for a moment, Peter seemed back to his old impish, incorrigible self as he put his hands on his hips, threw back his head, and laughed:

"Well, my buckaroos! All game for a new adventure, are we?"

The Injun boys rose as one, then whipped out their swords and raised them to their foreheads in formal salute as they chorused:

"Aye-aye, Peter! Ready when you are!"