波波小说

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chater five uddleg（第1页）

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，PuddlegluWakeup.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，andcrawledoutofthewigwaJilldidthesame.

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，thatmustbehi”Andthentheybothsawhim，sittingwithhisbacktothem，fishing，aboutfiftyyardsaway.Hehadbeenhardtoseeatfirstbecausehewasnearlythesamecolourasthemarshandbecausehesatsostill.

“Isupposewe’dbettergoandspeaktohim，”saidJill.Scrubbnodded.Theybothfeltalittlenervous.

Astheydrewnearer，thefigureturneditsheadandshowedthemalongthinfacewithrathersunkencheeks，atightlyshutmouth，asharpnose，andnobeard.Hewaswearingahigh，pointedhatlikeasteeple，withanenormouslywideflatbriThehair，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.”

ThechildrensatdownoneachsideofhiTheynowsawthathehadverylonglegsandarms，sothatalthoughhisbodywasnotmuchbiggerthanadwarf’s，hewouldbetallerthanmostmenwhenhestoodup.Thefingersofhishandswerewebbedlikeafrog’s，andsowerehisbarefeetwhichdangledinthemuddywater.Hewasdressedinearthcolouredclothesthathunglooseabouthi

“I’mtryingtocatchafeweelstomakeaneelstewforourdinner，”saidPuddleglu“ThoughIshouldn’twonderifIdidn’tgetany.Andyouwon’tlikethemmuchifIdo.”

“Whynot？”askedScrubb.

“Why，it’snotinreasonthatyoushouldlikeoursortofvictuals，thoughI’venodoubtyou’llputaboldfaceonit.Allthesame，whileIamacatchingofthem，ifyoutwocouldtrytolightthefire—noharmtrying—！Thewood’sbehindthewigwaItmaybewet.Youcouldlightitinsidethewigwam，andthenwe’dgetallthesmokeinoureyes.Oryoucouldlightitoutside，andthentherainwouldcomeandputitout.Here’smytinder-box.Youwouldn’tknowhowtouseit，Iexpect.”

ButScrubbhadlearnedthatsortofthingonhislastadventure.Thechildrenranbacktogethertothewigwam，foundthewood（whichwasperfectlydry）andsucceededinlightingafirewithratherlessthantheusualdifficulty.ThenScrubbsatandtookcareofitwhileJillwentandhadsomesortofwash—notaveryniceone—inthenearestchannel.Afterthatshesawtothefireandhehadawash.Bothfeltagooddealfresher，butveryhungry.

PresentlytheMarsh-wigglejoinedtheInspiteofhisexpectationofcatchingnoeels，hehadadozenorso，whichhehadalreadyskinnedandcleaned.Heputabigpoton，mendedthefire，andlithispipe.Marsh-wigglessmokeaverystrange，heavysortoftobacco（somepeoplesaytheymixitwithmud）andthechildrennoticedthesmokefromPuddleglum’spipehardlyroseintheairatall.Ittrickledoutofthebowlanddownwardsanddriftedalongthegroundlikeamist.ItwasveryblackandsetScrubbcoughing.

“Now，”saidPuddleglu“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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