crocodiles."

"Not of crocodiles," Hook corrected him, "but of that one
crocodile." He lowered his voice. "It liked my arm so much,
Smee, that it has followed me ever since, from sea to sea and
from land to land, licking its lips for the rest of me."

"In a way," said Smee, "it's sort of a compliment."

"I want no such compliments," Hook barked petulantly. "I want
Peter Pan, who first gave the brute its taste for me."

He sat down on a large mushroom, and now there was a quiver in
his voice. "Smee," he said huskily, "that crocodile would have
had me before this, but by a lucky chance it swallowed a clock
which goes tick tick inside it, and so before it can reach me I
hear the tick and bolt." He laughed, but in a hollow way.

"Some day," said Smee, "the clock will run down, and then he'll
get you."

Hook wetted his dry lips. "Ay," he said, "that's the fear that
haunts me."

Since sitting down he had felt curiously warm. "Smee," he
said, "this seat is hot." He jumped up. "Odds bobs, hammer and
tongs I'm burning."

They examined the mushroom, which was of a size and solidity
unknown on the mainland; they tried to pull it up, and it came