“But unfortunately without the feast,” said Edmund. “It’s getting late, you know. Look how long the shadows are. And have you noticed that it isn’t so hot?”
“We shall need a camp-fire if we’ve got to spend the night here,” said Peter. “I’ve got matches. Let’s go and e if we collee dry wood.”
Everyone saw the n of this, and for the half-hour they were busy. The orchard through which they had first e into the ruins turned out not to be a good place for firewood. They tried the other side of the castle, passing out of the hall by a little side door into a maze of stony humps and hollows which must once have been passages and smaller rooms but was now all les and wild ros. Beyond this they found a wide gap in the castle wall and stepped through it into a wood of darker and bigger trees where they found dead branches and rotten wood and sticks and dry leaves and fir-es iy. They went to and fro with bundles until they had a good pile on the dais. At the fifth jourhey found the well, just outside the hall, hidden in weeds, but and fresh and deep when they had cleared the away. The remains of a stone pavement ran half-way round it. Then the girls went out to piore apples and the boys built the fire, on the dais and fairly clo to the er between two walls, which they thought would be the s and warmest place. They had great difficulty in lighting it and ud a lot of matches, but they succeeded in the end. Finally, all four sat down with their backs to the wall and their faces to the fire. They tried roasting some of the apples on the ends of sticks. But roast apples are not much good without sugar, and they are too hot to eat with your fiill they are too cold to be worth eating. So they had to tent themlves with rales, which, as Edmund said, made one realize that school suppers weren’t so bad after all—“I shouldn’t mind a good thick slice of bread and margarihis minute,” he added. But the spirit of adventure was rising in them all, and no one really wao be back at school.
Shortly after the last apple had beeen, Susa out to the well to get another drink. When she came back she was carrying something in her hand.
“Look,” she said in a rather choking kind of voice. “I found it by the well.” She ha to Peter and sat down. The others thought she looked and sounded as if she might be going to cry. Edmund and Lucy eagerly bent forward to e what was ier’s hand—a little, bright thing that gleamed in the firelight.
“Well, I’m—I’m jiggered,” said Peter, and his voice also sounded queer. Then he ha to the others.
All nohat it was—a little chess-knight, ordinary in size but extraordinarily heavy becau it was made of pure gold； and the eyes in the hor’s head were two tiny little rubies—or rather one was, for the other had been knocked out.
“Why！” said Lucy, “it’s exactly like one of the golden chessmen we ud to play with when we were Kings and Queens at Cair Paravel.”
“Cheer up, Su,” said Peter to his other sister.
“I ’t help it,” said Susan. “It brought back—oh, such lovely times. And I remembered playing chess with fauns and good giants, and the mer-people singing in the a, and my beautiful hor—and—and—”