THELionwaspacingtoandfroaboutthatemptylandandsinginghisnewsong.Itwassofterandmoreliltingthanthesongbywhichhehadcalledupthestarsandthesun;agentle,ripplingmusic.Andashewalkedandsangthevalleygrewgreenwithgrass.ItspreadoutfromtheLionlikeapool.Itranupthesidesofthelittlehillslikeawave.Inafewminutesitwascreepingupthelowerslopesofthedistantmountains,makingthatyoungworldeverymomentsofter.Thelightwindcouldnowbeheardrufflingthegrass.Soontherewereotherthingsbesidesgrass.Thehigherslopesgrewdarkwithheather.Patchesofrougherandmorebristlinggreenappearedinthevalley.Digorydidnotknowwhattheywereuntilonebegancomingupquiteclosetohim.Itwasalittle,spikythingthatthrewoutdozensofarmsandcoveredthesearmswithgreenandgrewlargerattherateofaboutanincheverytwoseconds.Thereweredozensofthesethingsallroundhimnow.Whentheywerenearlyastallashimselfhesawwhattheywere.“Trees!”heexclaimed.
Thenuisanceofit,asPollysaidafterwards,wasthatyouweren’tleftinpeacetowatchitall.JustasDigorysaid“Trees!”hehadtojumpbecauseUncleAndrewhadsidleduptohimagainandwasgoingtopickhispocket.Itwouldn’thavedoneUncleAndrewmuchgoodifhehadsucceeded,forhewasaimingattheright-handpocketbecausehestillthoughtthegreenringswere“homeward”rings.ButofcourseDigorydidn’twanttoloseeither.
“Stop!”criedtheWitch.“Standback.No,furtherback.Ifanyonegoeswithintenpacesofeitherofthechildren,Iwillknockouthisbrains.”Shewaspoisinginherhandtheironbarthatshehadtornoffthelamp-post,readytothrowit.Somehownoonedoubtedthatshewouldbeaverygoodshot.
“So!”shesaid.“Youwouldstealbacktoyourownworldwiththeboyandleavemehere.”
UncleAndrew’stemperatlastgotthebetterofhisfears.“Yes,Ma’am,Iwould,”hesaid.“MostundoubtedlyIwould.Ishouldbeperfectlyinmyrights.Ihavebeenmostshamefully,mostabominablytreated.Ihavedonemybesttoshowyousuchcivilitiesaswereinmypower.Andwhathasbeenmyreward?Youhaverobbed-Imustrepeattheword—robbedahighlyrespectablejeweller.Youhaveinsistedonmyentertainingyoutoanexceedinglyexpensive,nottosayostentatious,lunch,thoughIwasobligedtopawnmywatchandchaininordertodoso(andletmetellyou,Ma’am,thatnoneofourfamilyhavebeeninthehabitoffrequentingpawnshops,exceptmycousinEdward,andhewasintheYeomanry).Duringthatindigestiblemeal-I’mfeelingtheworseforitatthisverymoment-yourbehaviourandconversationattractedtheunfavourableattentionofeveryonepresent.IfeelIhavebeenpubliclydisgraced.Ishallneverbeabletoshowmyfaceinthatrestaurantagain.Youhaveassaultedthepolice.Youhavestolen-”
“Ohstowit,Guv’nor,dostowit,”saidtheCabby.“Watchin’andlistenin’sthethingatpresent;nottalking.”
Therewascertainlyplentytowatchandtolistento.ThetreewhichDigoryhadnoticedwasnowafull-grownbeechwhosebranchesswayedgentlyabovehishead.Theystoodoncool,greengrass,sprinkledwithdaisiesandbuttercups.Alittlewayoff,alongtheriverbank,willowsweregrowing.Ontheothersidetanglesoffloweringcurrant,lilac,wildrose,andrhododendronclosedthemin.Thehorsewastearingupdeliciousmouthfulsofnewgrass.
AllthistimetheLion’ssong,andhisstatelyprowl,toandfro,backwardsandforwards,wasgoingon.Whatwasratheralarmingwasthatateachturnhecamealittlenearer.Pollywasfindingthesongmoreandmoreinterestingbecauseshethoughtshewasbeginningtoseetheconnectionbetweenthemusicandthethingsthatwerehappening.Whenalineofdarkfirsspranguponaridgeaboutahundredyardsawayshefeltthattheywereconnectedwithaseriesofdeep,prolongednoteswhichtheLionhadsungasecondbefore.Andwhenheburstintoarapidseriesoflighternotesshewasnotsurprisedtoseeprimrosessuddenlyappearingineverydirection.Thus,withanunspeakablethrill,shefeltquitecertainthatallthethingswerecoming(asshesaid)“outoftheLion’shead”.Whenyoulistenedtohissongyouheardthethingshewasmakingup:whenyoulookedroundyou,yousawthem.Thiswassoexcitingthatshehadnotimetobeafraid.ButDigoryandtheCabbycouldnothelpfeelingabitnervousaseachturnoftheLion’swalkbroughthimnearer.AsforUncleAndrew,histeethwerechattering,buthiskneeswereshakingsothathecouldnotrunaway.
SuddenlytheWitchsteppedboldlyouttowardtheLion.Itwascomingon,alwayssinging,withaslow,heavypace.Itwasonlytwelveyardsaway.Sheraisedherarmandflungtheironbarstraightatitshead.
Nobody,leastofallJadis,couldhavemissedatthatrange.ThebarstrucktheLionfairbetweentheeyes.Itglancedoffandfellwithathudinthegrass.TheLioncameon.Itswalkwasneitherslowernorfasterthanbefore;youcouldnottellwhetheritevenknewithadbeenhit.Thoughitssoftpadsmadenonoise,youcouldfeeltheearthshakebeneaththeirweight.
TheWitchshriekedandran:inafewmomentsshewasoutofsightamongthetrees.UncleAndrewturnedtodolikewise,trippedoveraroot,andfellflatonhisfaceinalittlebrookthatrandowntojointheriver.Thechildrencouldnotmove.Theywerenotevenquitesurethattheywantedto.TheLionpaidnoattentiontothem.Itshugeredmouthwasopen,butopeninsongnotinasnarl.Itpassedbythemsoclosethattheycouldhavetoucheditsmane.Theywereterriblyafraiditwouldturnandlookatthem,yetinsomequeerwaytheywisheditwould.Butforallthenoticeittookofthemtheymightjustaswellhavebeeninvisibleandunsmellable.Whenithadpassedthemandgoneafewpacesfurtheritturned,passedthemagain,andcontinueditsmarcheastward.
UncleAndrew,coughingandspluttering,pickedhimselfup.
“Now,Digory,”hesaid,“we’vegotridofthatwoman,andthebruteofalionisgone.Givemeyourhandandputonyourringatonce.”
“Keepoff,”saidDigory,backingawayfromhim.“Keepclearofhim,Polly.Comeoverherebesideme.NowIwarnyou,UncleAndrew,don’tcomeonestepnearer,we’lljustvanish.”
“Dowhatyou’retoldthisminute,sir,”saidUncleAndrew。
“you’reanextremelydisobedient,ill-behavedlittleboy.”
“Nofear,”saidDigory.“Wewanttostayandseewhathappens.Ithoughtyouwantedtoknowaboutotherworlds.Don’tyoulikeitnowyou’rehere?”
“Likeit!”exclaimedUncleAndrew.“JustlookatthestateI’min.Anditwasmybestcoatandwaistcoat,too.”Hecertainlywasadreadfulsightbynow:forofcourse,themoredressedupyouweretobeginwith,theworseyoulookafteryou’vecrawledoutofasmashedhansoncabandfallenintoamuddybrook.“I’mnotsaying,”headded,“thatthisisnotamostinterestingplace.IfIwereayoungerman,now-perhapsIcouldgetsomelivelyyoungfellowto
comeherefirst.Oneofthosebig-gamehunters.Somethingmightbemadeofthiscountry.Theclimateisdelightful.Ineverfeltsuchair.Ibelieveitwouldhavedonemegoodif-ifcircumstanceshadbeenmorefavourable.Ifonlywe’dhadagun.”
“Gunsbeblowed,”saidtheCabby.“IthinkI’llgoandseeifIcangiveStrawberryarubdown.Thathorse‘asmoresensethansome’umansasIcouldmention.”HewalkedbacktoStrawberryandbeganmakingthehissingnoisesthatgroomsmake.
“DoyoustillthinkthatLioncouldbekilledbyagun?”askedDigory.“Hedidn’tmindtheironbarmuch.”
“Withallherfaults,”saidUncleAndrew,“that’sapluckygel,myboy.Itwasaspiritedthingtodo.”Herubbedhishandsandcrackedhisknuckles,asifhewereoncemoreforgettinghowtheWitchfrightenedhimwhenevershewasreallythere.
“Itwasawickedthingtodo,”saidPolly.“Whatharmhadhedoneher?”
“Hullo!What’sthat?”saidDigory.Hehaddartedforwardtoexaminesomethingonlyafewyardsaway.“Isay,Polly,”hecalledback.“Docomeandlook.”
UncleAndrewcamewithher;notbecausehewantedtoseebutbecausehewantedtokeepclosetothechildren—theremightbeachanceofstealingtheirrings.ButwhenhesawwhatDigorywaslookingat,evenhebegantotakeaninterest.Itwasaperfectlittlemodelofalamp-post,aboutthreefeethighbutlengthening,andthickeninginproportion,astheywatchedit;infactgrowingjustasthetreeshadgrown.
“It’salivetoo-Imean,it’slit,”saidDigory.Andsoitwas;thoughofcourse,thebrightnessofthesunmadethelittleflameinthelanternhardtoseeunlessyourshadowfellonit.
“Remarkable,mostremarkable,”mutteredUncleAndrew.“EvenIneverdreamtofMagiclikethis.We’reinaworldwhereeverything,evenalamp—post,comestolifeandgrows.NowIwonderwhatsortofseedalamp—postgrowsfrom?”
“Don’tyousee?”saidDigory.“Thisiswherethebarfell-thebarshetoreoffthelamp-postathome.Itsankintothegroundandnowit’scomingupasayounglamp—post.”(Butnotsoveryyoungnow;itwasastallasDigorywhilehesaidthis.)
“That’sit!Stupendous,stupendous,”saidUncleAndrew,rubbinghishandsharderthanever.“Ho,ho!TheylaughedatmyMagic.ThatfoolofasisterofminethinksI’malunatic.Iwonderwhatthey’llsaynow?Ihavediscoveredaworldwhereeverythingisburstingwithlifeandgrowth.Columbus,now,theytalkaboutColumbus.ButwhatwasAmericatothis?Thecommercialpossibilitiesofthiscountryareunbounded.Bringafewoldbitsofscrapironhere,bury’em,anduptheycomeasbrandnewrailwayengines,battleships,anythingyouplease.They’llcostnothing,andIcansell’ematfullpricesinEngland.Ishallbeamillionaire.Andthentheclimate!Ifeelyearsyoungeralready.Icanrunitasahealthresort.Agoodsanatoriumheremightbeworthtwentythousandayear.OfcourseIshallhavetoletafewpeopleintothesecret.Thefirstthingistogetthatbruteshot.”
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