Fighting her way forward with hood up and head down and numb hands inside her cloak, Jill had glimps of other odd things on that horrible tableland — things on her right that looked vaguely like factory eys, and, on her left, a huge cliff, straighter than any cliff ought to be. But she wasn’t at all ied and didn’t give them a thought. The only things she thought about were her cold hands （and no and and ears） and hot baths and beds at Harfang.
Suddenly she skidded, slid about five feet, and found herlf to her horror sliding down into a dark, narrow chasm which emed that moment to have appeared in front of her. Half a d later she had reached the bottom. She appeared to be in a kind of trench roove, only about three feet wide. And though she was shaken by the fall, almost the first thing she noticed was the relief of being out of the wind; for the walls of the trench ro high above her. The hing she noticed was, naturally, the anxious faces of Scrubb and Puddleglum looking down at her from the edge.
“Are you hurt, Pole?” shouted Scrubb.
“Both legs broken, I shouldn’t wonder,” shouted Puddleglum.
Jill stood up and explaihat she was all right, but they’d have to help her out.
“What is it you’ve fallen into?” asked Scrubb.