波波小说

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chater even the hill f the tran trenche（第1页）

THEREisnodenyingitwasabeastofaday.Overheadwasasunlesssky，muffledincloudsthatwereheavywithsnow；underfoot，ablackfrost；blowingoverit，awindthatfeltasifitwouldtakeyourskinoff.Whentheygotdownintotheplaintheyfoundthatthispartoftheancientroadwasmuchmoreruinousthananytheyhadyetseen.Theyhadtopicktheirwayovergreatbrokenstonesandbetweenbouldersandacrossrubble：hardgoingforsorefeet.And，howevertiredtheygot，itwasfartoocoldforahalt.

Ataboutteno’clockthefirsttinysnowflakescameloiteringdownandsettledonJill’sarTenminuteslatertheywerefallingquitethickly.Intwentyminutesthegroundwasnoticeablywhite.Andbytheendofhalfanhouragoodsteadysnowstorm，whichlookedasifitmeanttolastallday，wasdrivingintheirfacessothattheycouldhardlysee.

Inordertounderstandwhatfollowed，youmustkeeponrememberinghowlittletheycouldsee.Astheydrewnearthelowhillwhichseparatedthemfromtheplacewherethelightedwindowshadappeared，theyhadnogeneralviewofitatall.Itwasaquestionofseeingthenextfewpacesahead，and，evenforthat，youhadtoscrewupyoureyes.Needlesstosay，theywerenottalking.

Whentheyreachedthefootofthehilltheycaughtaglimpseofwhatmightberocksoneachside—squarishrocks，ifyoulookedatthemcarefully，butnoonedid.Allweremoreconcernedwiththeledgerightinfrontofthemwhichbarredtheirway.Itwasaboutfourfeethigh.TheMarsh-wiggle，withhislonglegs，hadnodifficultyinjumpingontothetopofit，andhethenhelpedtheothersup.Itwasanastywetbusinessforthem，thoughnotforhim，becausethesnownowlayquitedeepontheledge.Theythenhadastiffclimb—Jillfellonce—upveryroughgroundforaboutahundredyards，andcametoasecondledge.Therewerefouroftheseledgesaltogether，atquiteirregularintervals.

Astheystruggledontothefourthledge，therewasnomistakingthefactthattheywerenowatthetopoftheflathill.Uptillnowtheslopehadgiventhemsomeshelter；here，theygotthefullfuryofthewind.Forthehill，oddlyenough，wasquiteasflatontopasithadlookedfromadistance：agreatleveltablelandwhichthestormtoreacrosswithoutresistance.Inmostplacesthesnowwasstillhardlylyingatall，forthewindkeptcatchingitupoffthegroundinsheetsandclouds，andhurlingitintheirfaces.Androundtheirfeetlittleeddiesofsnowranaboutasyousometimesseethemdoingoverice.And，indeed，inmanyplaces，thesurfacewasalmostassmoothasice.Buttomakemattersworseitwascrossedandcrisscrossedwithcuriousbanksordykes，whichsometimesdivideditupintosquaresandoblongs.Alltheseofcoursehadtobeclimbed；theyvariedfromtwotofivefeetinheightandwereaboutacoupleofyardsthick.Onthenorthsideofeachbankthesnowalreadylayindeepdrifts；andaftereachclimbyoucamedownintoadriftandgotwet.

Fightingherwayforwardwithhoodupandheaddownandnumbhandsinsidehercloak，Jillhadglimpsesofotheroddthingsonthathorribletableland—thingsonherrightthatlookedvaguelylikefactorychimneys，and，onherleft，ahugecliff，straighterthananycliffoughttobe.Butshewasn’tatallinterestedanddidn’tgivethemathought.Theonlythingsshethoughtaboutwerehercoldhands（andnoseandchinandears）andhotbathsandbedsatHarfang.

Suddenlysheskidded，slidaboutfivefeet，andfoundherselftoherhorrorslidingdownintoadark，narrowchasmwhichseemedthatmomenttohaveappearedinfrontofher.HalfasecondlatershehadreachedthebottoSheappearedtobeinakindoftrenchorgroove，onlyaboutthreefeetwide.Andthoughshewasshakenbythefall，almostthefirstthingshenoticedwasthereliefofbeingoutofthewind；forthewallsofthetrenchrosehighaboveher.Thenextthingshenoticedwas，naturally，theanxiousfacesofScrubbandPuddleglumlookingdownatherfromtheedge.

“Areyouhurt，Pole？”shoutedScrubb.

“Bothlegsbroken，Ishouldn’twonder，”shoutedPuddleglu

Jillstoodupandexplainedthatshewasallright，butthey’dhavetohelpherout.

“Whatisityou’vefalleninto？”askedScrubb.

“It’sakindoftrench，oritmightbeakindofsunkenlaneorsomething，”saidJill.“Itrunsquitestraight.”

“Yes，byJove，”saidScrubb.“Anditrunsduenorth！Iwonderisitasortofroad？Ifitwas，we’dbeoutofthisinfernalwinddownthere.Istherealotofsnowatthebottom？”

“Hardlyany.Itallblowsoverthetop，Isuppose.”

“Whathappensfartheron？”

“Halfasecond.I’llgoandsee，”saidJill.Shegotupandwalkedalongthetrench；butbeforeshehadgonefar，itturnedsharplytotheright.Sheshoutedthisinformationbacktotheothers.

“What’sroundthecorner？”askedScrubb.

NowithappenedthatJillhadthesamefeelingabouttwistypassagesanddarkplacesunderground，orevennearlyunderground，thatScrubbhadabouttheedgesofcliffs.Shehadnointentionofgoingroundthatcorneralone；especiallywhensheheardPuddleglumbawlingoutfrombehindher：

“Becareful，Pole.It’sjustthesortofplacethatmightleadtoadragon’scave.Andinagiantcountry，theremightbegiantearth-wormsorgiantbeetles.”

“Idon’tthinkitgoesanywheremuch，”saidJill，cominghastilyback.

“I’mjollywellgoingtohavealook，”saidScrubb.“Whatdoyoumeanbyanywheremuch，Ishouldliketoknow？”Sohesatdownontheedgeofthetrench（everyonewastoowetbynowtobotheraboutbeingabitwetter）andthendroppedin.HepushedpastJilland，thoughhedidn’tsayanything，shefeltsurethatheknewshehadfunkedit.Soshefollowedhimclose，buttookcarenottogetinfrontofhi

Itproved，however，adisappointingexploration.Theywentroundtheright-handturnandstraightonforafewpaces.Heretherewasachoiceofways：straightonagain，orsharptotheright.“That’snogood，”saidScrubb，glancingdowntheright-handturn，“thatwouldbetakingusback—south.”Hewentstraighton，butoncemore，inafewsteps，theyfoundasecondturntotheright.Butthistimetherewasnochoiceofways，forthetrenchtheyhadbeenfollowingherecametoadeadend.

“Nogood，”gruntedScrubb.Jilllostnotimeinturningandleadingthewayback.WhentheyreturnedtotheplacewhereJillhadfirstfallenin，theMarsh-wigglewithhislongarmshadnodifficultyinpullingthemout.

Butitwasdreadfultobeoutontopagain.Downinthosenarrowslitsoftrenches，theirearshadalmostbeguntothaw.Theyhadbeenabletoseeclearlyandbreatheeasilyandheareachotherspeakwithoutshouting.Itwasabsolutemiserytocomebackintothewitheringcoldness.AnditdidseemhardwhenPuddleglumchosethatmomentforsaying：

“Areyoustillsureofthosesigns，Pole？What’stheoneweoughttobeafter，now？”

“Oh，comeon！Botherthesigns，”saidPole.“SomethingaboutsomeonementioningAslan’sname，Ithink.ButI’mjollywellnotgoingtogivearecitationhere.”

Asyousee，shehadgottheorderwrong.Thatwasbecauseshehadgivenupsayingthesignsovereverynight.Shestillreallyknewthem，ifshetroubledtothink：butshewasnolongerso“pat”inherlessonastobesureofreelingthemoffintherightorderatamoment’snoticeandwithoutthinking.Puddleglum’squestionannoyedherbecause，deepdowninsideher，shewasalreadyannoyedwithherselffornotknowingtheLion’slessonquitesowellasshefeltsheoughttohaveknownit.Thisannoyance，addedtothemiseryofbeingverycoldandtired，madehersay，“Botherthesigns.”Shedidn’tperhapsquitemeanit.

“Oh，thatwasnext，wasit？”saidPuddleglu“NowIwonder，areyouright？Got’emmixed，Ishouldn’twonder.Itseemstome，thishill，thisflatplacewe’reon，isworthstoppingtohavealookat.Haveyounoticed—”

“OhLor！”saidScrubb，“isthisatimeforstoppingtoadmiretheview？Forgoodness’sakelet’sgeton.”

“Oh，look，look，look，”criedJillandpointed.Everyoneturned，andeveryonesaw.Somewayofftothenorth，andagooddealhigherupthanthetablelandonwhichtheystood，alineoflightshadappeared.Thistime，evenmoreobviouslythanwhenthetravellershadseenthemthenightbefore，theywerewindows：smallerwindowsthatmadeonethinkdeliciouslyofbedrooms，andlargerwindowsthatmadeonethinkofgreathallswithfiresroaringonthehearthandhotsouporjuicysirloinssmokingonthetable.

“Harfang！”exclaimedScrubb.

“That’sallverywell，”saidPuddleglu“ButwhatIwassayingwas—”

“Oh，shutup，”saidJillcrossly.“Wehaven’tamomenttolose.Don’tyourememberwhattheLadysaidabouttheirlockingupsoearly？Wemustgetthereintime，wemust，wemust.We’lldieifwe’reshutoutonanightlikethis.”

“Well，itisn’texactlyanight，notyet，”beganPuddleglum；butthetwochildrenbothsaid，“Comeon，”andbeganstumblingforwardontheslipperytablelandasquicklyastheirlegswouldcarrytheTheMarsh-wigglefollowedthem：stilltalking，butnowthattheywereforcingtheirwayintothewindagain，theycouldnothaveheardhimeveniftheyhadwantedto.Andtheydidn’twant.Theywerethinkingofbathsandbedsandhotdrinks；andtheideaofcomingtoHarfangtoolateandbeingshutoutwasalmostunbearable.

Inspiteoftheirhaste，ittookthemalongtimetocrosstheflattopofthathill.Andevenwhentheyhadcrossedit，therewerestillseveralledgestoclimbdownonthefarside.ButatlasttheyreachedthebottomandcouldseewhatHarfangwaslike.

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