JILLwasasleep。Eversincetheowls’parliamentbeganshehadbeenyawningterriblyandnowshehaddroppedoff。Shewasnotatallpleasedatbeingwakedagain,andatfindingherselflyingonbareboardsinadustybelfrysortofplace,completelydark,andalmostcompletelyfullofowls。Shewasevenlesspleasedwhensheheardthattheyhadtosetoffforsomewhereelse—andnot,apparently,forbed—ontheOwl’sback。
“Oh,comeon,Pole,buckup,”saidScrubb’svoice。“Afterall,itisanadventure。”
“I’msickofadventures,”saidJillcrossly。
Shedid,however,consenttoclimbontoGlimfeather’sback,andwasthoroughlywakedup(forawhile)bytheunexpectedcoldnessoftheairwhenheflewoutwithherintothenight。Themoonhaddisappearedandtherewerenostars。Farbehindhershecouldseeasinglelightedwindowwellabovetheground;doubtless,inoneofthetowersofCairParavel。Itmadeherlongtobebackinthatdelightfulbedroom,snuginbed,watchingthefirelightonthewalls。Sheputherhandsunderhercloakandwrappedittightlyroundher。Itwasuncannytoheartwovoicesinthedarkairalittledistanceaway;Scrubbandhisowlweretalkingtooneanother。“Hedoesn’tsoundtired,”thoughtJill。ShedidnotrealizethathehadbeenongreatadventuresinthatworldbeforeandthattheNarnianairwasbringingbacktohimastrengthhehadwonwhenhesailedtheEasternSeaswithKingCaspian。
Jillhadtopinchherselftokeepawake,forsheknewthatifshedozedonGlimfeather’sbackshewouldprobablyfalloff。Whenatlastthetwoowlsendedtheirflight,sheclimbedstifflyoffGlimfeatherandfoundherselfonflatground。Achillywindwasblowingandtheyappearedtobeinaplacewithouttrees。“Tu-whoo,tu-whoo!”Glimfeatherwascalling。“Wakeup,Puddleglum。Wakeup。ItisontheLion’sbusiness。”
Foralongtimetherewasnoreply。Then,alongwayoff,adimlightappearedandbegantocomenearer。Withitcameavoice。
“Owlsahoy!”itsaid。“Whatisit?IstheKingdead?HasanenemylandedinNarnia?Isitaflood?Ordragons?”
Whenthelightreachedthem,itturnedouttobethatofalargelantern。Shecouldseeverylittleofthepersonwhoheldit。Heseemedtobealllegsandarms。Theowlsweretalkingtohim,explainingeverything,butshewastootiredtolisten。Shetriedtowakeherselfupabitwhensherealizedthattheyweresayinggoodbyetoher。Butshecouldneverafterwardsremembermuchexceptthat,soonerorlater,sheandScrubbwerestoopingtoenteralowdoorwayandthen(oh,thankheavens)werelyingdownonsomethingsoftandwarm,andavoicewassaying:
“Thereyouare。Bestwecando。You’llliecoldandhard。Damptoo,Ishouldn’twonder。Won’tsleepawink,mostlikely;evenifthereisn’tathunderstormorafloodorthewigwamdoesn’tfalldownontopofusall,asI’veknownthemtodo。Mustmakethebestofit—”Butshewasfastasleepbeforethevoicehadended。
Whenthechildrenwokelatenextmorningtheyfoundthattheywerelying,verydryandwarm,onbedsofstrawinadarkplace。Atriangularopeningletinthedaylight。
“Whereoneartharewe?”askedJill。
“InthewigwamofaMarsh-wiggle,”saidEustace。
“Awhat?”
“AMarsh-wiggle。Don’taskmewhatitis。Icouldn’tseeitlastnight。I’mgettingup。Let’sgoandlookforit。”
“Howbeastlyonefeelsaftersleepinginone’sclothes,”saidJill,sittingup。
“Iwasjustthinkinghowniceitwasnottohavetodress,”saidEustace。
“Orwasheither,Isuppose,”saidJillscornfully。ButScrubbhadalreadygotup,yawned,shakenhimself,andcrawledoutofthewigwam。Jilldidthesame。
WhattheyfoundoutsidewasquiteunlikethebitofNarniatheyhadseenonthedaybefore。Theywereonagreatflatplainwhichwascutintocountlesslittleislandsbycountlesschannelsofwater。Theislandswerecoveredwithcoarsegrassandborderedwithreedsandrushes。Sometimestherewerebedsofrushesaboutanacreinextent。Cloudsofbirdswereconstantlyalightinginthemandrisingfromthemagain—duck,snipe,bitterns,herons。Manywigwamslikethatinwhichtheyhadpassedthenightcouldbeseendottedabout,butallatagooddistancefromoneanother;forMarsh-wigglesarepeoplewholikeprivacy。Exceptforthefringeoftheforestseveralmilestothesouthandwestofthem,therewasnotatreeinsight。Eastwardtheflatmarshstretchedtolowsand-hillsonthehorizon,andyoucouldtellbythesalttanginthewindwhichblewfromthatdirectionthatthesealayoverthere。TotheNorththerewerelowpale-colouredhills,inplacesbastionedwithrock。Therestwasallflatmarsh。Itwouldhavebeenadepressingplaceonawetevening。Seenunderamorningsun,withafreshwindblowing,andtheairfilledwiththecryingofbirds,therewassomethingfineandfreshandcleanaboutitsloneliness。Thechildrenfelttheirspiritsrise。
“Wherehasthethingummygotto,Iwonder?”saidJill。
“TheMarsh-wiggle,”saidScrubb,asifhewereratherproudofknowingtheword。“Iexpect—hullo,thatmustbehim。”Andthentheybothsawhim,sittingwithhisbacktothem,fishing,aboutfiftyyardsaway。Hehadbeenhardtoseeatfirstbecausehewasnearlythesamecolourasthemarshandbecausehesatsostill。
“Isupposewe’dbettergoandspeaktohim,”saidJill。Scrubbnodded。Theybothfeltalittlenervous。
Astheydrewnearer,thefigureturneditsheadandshowedthemalongthinfacewithrathersunkencheeks,atightlyshutmouth,asharpnose,andnobeard。Hewaswearingahigh,pointedhatlikeasteeple,withanenormouslywideflatbrim。Thehair,ifitcouldbecalledhair,whichhungoverhislargeearswasgreeny-grey,andeachlockwasflatratherthanround,sothattheywereliketinyreeds。Hisexpressionwassolemn,hiscomplexionmuddy,andyoucouldseeatoncethathetookaseriousviewoflife。
“Goodmorning,Guests,”hesaid。“ThoughwhenIsaygoodIdon’tmeanitwon’tprobablyturntorainoritmighthesnow,orfog,orthunder。Youdidn’tgetanysleep,Idaresay。
“Yeswedid,though,”saidJill。“Wehadalovelynight。”
“Ah,”saidtheMarsh-wiggle,shakinghishead。“Iseeyou’remakingthebestofabadjob。That’sright。You’vebeenwellbroughtup,youhave。You’velearnedtoputagoodfaceonthings。”
“Please,wedon’tknowyourname,”saidScrubb。
“Puddleglum’smyname。Butitdoesn’tmatterifyouforgetit。Icanalwaystellyouagain。”
Thechildrensatdownoneachsideofhim。Theynowsawthathehadverylonglegsandarms,sothatalthoughhisbodywasnotmuchbiggerthanadwarf’s,hewouldbetallerthanmostmenwhenhestoodup。Thefingersofhishandswerewebbedlikeafrog’s,andsowerehisbarefeetwhichdangledinthemuddywater。Hewasdressedinearthcolouredclothesthathunglooseabouthim。
“I’mtryingtocatchafeweelstomakeaneelstewforourdinner,”saidPuddleglum。“ThoughIshouldn’twonderifIdidn’tgetany。Andyouwon’tlikethemmuchifIdo。”
“Whynot?”askedScrubb。
“Why,it’snotinreasonthatyoushouldlikeoursortofvictuals,thoughI’venodoubtyou’llputaboldfaceonit。Allthesame,whileIamacatchingofthem,ifyoutwocouldtrytolightthefire—noharmtrying—!Thewood’sbehindthewigwam。Itmaybewet。Youcouldlightitinsidethewigwam,andthenwe’dgetallthesmokeinoureyes。Oryoucouldlightitoutside,andthentherainwouldcomeandputitout。Here’smytinder-box。Youwouldn’tknowhowtouseit,Iexpect。”
ButScrubbhadlearnedthatsortofthingonhislastadventure。Thechildrenranbacktogethertothewigwam,foundthewood(whichwasperfectlydry)andsucceededinlightingafirewithratherlessthantheusualdifficulty。ThenScrubbsatandtookcareofitwhileJillwentandhadsomesortofwash—notaveryniceone—inthenearestchannel。Afterthatshesawtothefireandhehadawash。Bothfeltagooddealfresher,butveryhungry。
PresentlytheMarsh-wigglejoinedthem。Inspiteofhisexpectationofcatchingnoeels,hehadadozenorso,whichhehadalreadyskinnedandcleaned。Heputabigpoton,mendedthefire,andlithispipe。Marsh-wigglessmokeaverystrange,heavysortoftobacco(somepeoplesaytheymixitwithmud)andthechildrennoticedthesmokefromPuddleglum’spipehardlyroseintheairatall。Ittrickledoutofthebowlanddownwardsanddriftedalongthegroundlikeamist。ItwasveryblackandsetScrubbcoughing。
“Now,”saidPuddleglum。“Thoseeelswilltakeamortallongtimetocook,andeitherofyoumightfaintwithhungerbeforethey’redone。Iknewalittlegirl-butI’dbetternottellyouthatstory。Itmightloweryourspirits,andthat’sathingIneverdo。So,tokeepyourmindsoffyourhunger,wemayaswelltalkaboutourplans。”
“Yes,dolet’s,”saidJill。“CanyouhelpustofindPrinceRilian?”
TheMarsh-wigglesuckedinhischeekstilltheywerehollowerthanyouwouldhavethoughtpossible。“Well,Idon’tknowthatyou’dcallithelp,”hesaid。“Idon’tknowthatanyonecanexactlyhelp。Itstandstoreasonwe’renotlikelytogetveryfaronajourneytotheNorth,notatthistimeoftheyear,withthewintercomingonsoonandall。Andanearlywintertoo,bythelookofthings。Butyoumustn’tletthatmakeyoudown-hearted。Verylikely,whatwithenemies,andmountains,andriverstocross,andlosingourway,andnexttonothingtoeat,andsorefeet,we’llhardlynoticetheweather。Andifwedon’tgetfarenoughtodoanygood,wemaygetfarenoughnottogetbackinahurry。”
Bothchildrennoticedthathesaid“we”,not“you”,andbothexclaimedatthesamemoment。“Areyoucomingwithus?”
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