“We should not have Aslan for friend if we brought in that rabble,” said Trufflehunter as they came away from the cave of the Black Dwarfs.
“Oh, Aslan！” said Trumpkin, cheerily but ptuously. “What matters much more is that you wouldn’t have me.”
“Do you believe in Aslan?” said Caspian to Nikabrik.
“I’ll believe in anyone or anything,” said Nikabrik, “that’ll batter the curd Telmarine barbarians to pieces or drive them out of Narnia. Anyone or anything, Aslan or the White Witch, do you uand?”
“Silence, silence,” said Trufflehunter. “You do not know what you are saying. She was a wor ehan Miraz and all his race.”
“Not to Dwarfs, she wasn’t,” said Nikabrik.
Their visit leasanter one. As they came lower down, the mountains opened out into a great glen or wooded ge with a swift river running at the bottom. The open plaear the river’s edge were a mass of foxgloves and wild ros and the air was buzzing with bees. Here Trufflehunter called again, “Glenstlenstorm！” and after a pau Caspian heard the sound of hoofs. It grew louder till the valley trembled and at last, breaking and trampling the thickets, there came in sight the creatures that Caspian had yet en, the great taur Glenstorm and his three sons. His flanks were glossy chestnut and the beard that covered his broad chest was golden-red. He rophet and a star-gazer and knew what they had e about.
“Long live the King,” he cried. “I and my sons are ready for war. When is the battle to be joined?”
Up till now her Caspian nor the others had really been thinking of a war. They had some vague idea, perhaps, of an occasional raid on some Human farmstead or of attag a party of hunters, if it veoo far into the southern wilds. But, in the main, they had thought only of living to themlves in woods and caves and building up an attempt at Old Narnia in hiding. As soon as Glenstorm had spoken everyo much more rious.
“Do you mean a real war to drive Miraz out of Narnia?” asked Caspian.
“What el?” said the taur. “Why el does your Majesty go clad in mail and girt with sword?”
“Is it possible, Glenstorm?” said the Badger.
“The time is ripe,” said Glenstorm. “I watch the skies, Badger, for it is mio watch, as it is yours to remember. Tarva and Alambil have met in the halls of high heaven, and oh a son of Adam has once more arin to rule and he creatures. The hour has struck. Our cil at the Dang Lawn must be a cil of war.” He spoke in such a voice that her Caspian nor the others hesitated for a moment：it now emed to them quite possible that they might win a war and quite certain that they must wage one.