CHAPTER TEN THE RETURN OF THE LION（第2/3页）

“And for another，”continued Trumpkin，“if we’d gone my way，we’d have walked straight into that new outpost，most likely; or at least had just the same trouble avoiding it．I think this Glasswater route has turned out for the best．”

“A blessing in disguise，”said Susan．

“Some disguise！”said Edmund．

“I suppose we’l l have to go right up the gorge again now，”said Lucy.

“Lu，you’re a hero，”said Peter．“That’s the nearest you’ve got today to saying I told you so．Let’s get on．”

“And as soon as we’re well up into the forest，”said Trumpkin，

“whatever anyone says，I’m going to light a fire and cook supper.But we must get well away from here．”

There is no need to describe how they toiled back up the gorge．It was pretty hard work，but oddly enough everyone felt more cheerful．They were getting their second wind; and the word supper had had a wonderful effect．

They reached the fir wood which had caused them so much trouble while it was still daylight，and bivouacked in a hollow just above it．It was tedious gathering the firewood; but it was grand when the fire blazed up and they began producing the damp and smeary parcels of bear-meat which would have been so very unattractive to anyone who had spent the day indoors．The Dwarf had splendid ideas about cookery．Each apple (they still had a few of these) was wrapped up in bear’s meat—as if it was to be apple dumpling with meat instead of pastry，only much thicker—and spiked on a sharp stick and then roasted．And the juice of the apple worked all through the meat，like apple sauce with roast pork．Bear that has lived too much on other animals is not very nice，but bear that has had plenty of honey and fruit is excellent，and this turned out to be that sort of bear．It was a truly glorious meal．And，of course，no washing up—only lying back and watching the smoke from Trumpkin’s pipe and stretching one’s tired legs and chatting．Everyone felt quite hopeful now about finding King Caspian tomorrow and defeating Miraz in a few days．It may not have been sensible of them to feel like this，but they did．

They dropped off to sleep one by one，but all pretty quickly．

Lucy woke out of the deepest sleep you can imagine，with the feeling that the voice she liked best in the world had been calling her name．She thought at first it was her father’s voice，but that did not seem quite right．Then she thought it was Peter’s voice，but that did not seem to fit either．She did not want to get up; not because she was still tired—on the contrary she was wonderfully rested and all the aches had gone from her bones-but because she felt so extremely happy and comfortable．She was looking straight up at the Narnian moon，which is larger than ours，and at the starry sky，for the place where they had bivouacked was comparatively open．

“Lucy，”came the call again，neither her father’s voice nor Peter’s．She sat up，trembling with excitement but not with fear．The moon was so bright that the whole forest landscape around her was almost as clear as day，though it looked wilder．Behind her was the fir wood; away to her right the jagged cliff-tops on the far side of the gorge; straight ahead，open grass to where a glade of trees began about a bow-shot away．Lucy looked very hard at the trees of that glade．

“Why，I do believe they’re moving，”she said to herself．“They’re walking about．”

She got up，her heart beating wildly，and walked towards them．There was certainly a noise in the glade，a noise such as trees make in a high wind，though there was no wind tonight.Yet it was not exactly an ordinary tree-noise either．Lucy felt there was a tune in it，but she could not catch the tune any more than she had been able to catch the words when the trees had so nearly talked to her the night before．But there was，at least，a lilt; she felt her own feet wanting to dance as she got nearer．And now there was no doubt that the trees were really moving— moving in and out through one another as if in a complicated country dance．(“And I suppose，”thought Lucy，“When trees dance,it must be a very,very country dance indeed.” She was almost among them now．

The first tree she looked at seemed at first glance to be not a tree at all but a huge man with a shaggy beard and great bushes of hair．She was not frightened: she had seen such things before．But when she looked again he was only a tree，though he was still moving.You couldn’t see whether he had feet or roots，of course，because when trees move they don’t walk on the surface of the earth; they wade in it as we do in water．The same thing happened with every tree she looked at.At one moment they seemed to be the friendly，lovely giant and giantess forms which the tree-people put on when some good magic has called them into full life: next moment they all looked like trees again．But when they looked like trees，it was like strangely human trees，and when they looked like people，it was like strangely branchy and leafy people—and all the time that queer lilting，rustling，cool，merry noise．

“They are almost awake，not quite，”said Lucy．She knew she herself was wide awake，wider than anyone usually is．

She went fearlessly in among them，dancing herself as she leaped this way and that to avoid being run into by these huge partners．But she was only half interested in them．She wanted to get beyond them to something else; it was from beyond them that the dear voice had called．

She soon got through them (half wondering whether she had been using her arms to push branches aside，or to take hands in a Great Chain with big dancers who stooped to reach her) for they were really a ring of trees round a central open place．She stepped out from among their shifting confusion of lovely lights and shadows.

A circle of grass，smooth as a lawn，met her eyes，with dark trees dancing all round it．And then—oh joy！ For he was there: the huge Lion，shining white in the moonlight，with his huge black shadow underneath him．

But for the movement of his tail he might have been a stone lion，but Lucy never thought of that．She never stopped to think whether he was a friendly lion or not．She rushed to him．She felt her heart would burst if she lost a moment．And the next thing she knew was that she was kissing him and putting her arms as far round his neck as she could and burying her face in the beautiful rich silkiness of his mane．

“Aslan，Aslan．Dear Aslan，”sobbed Lucy．“At last．”

The great beast rolled over on his side so that Lucy fell，half sitting and half lying between his front paws．He bent forward and just touched her nose with his tongue．His warm breath came all round her．She gazed up into the large wise face．

“Welcome，child，”he said．

“Aslan，”said Lucy，“you’re bigger．”