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“AND so，”said Trumpkin (for，as you have realized，it was he who had been telling all this story to the four children，sitting on the grass in the ruined hall of Cair Paravel)—“and so I put a crust or two in my pocket，left behind all weapons but my dagger，and took to the woods in the grey of the morning．I’d been plugging away for many hours when there came a sound that I’d never heard the like of in my born days．Eh，I won’t forget that．The whole air was full of it，loud as thunder but far longer，cool and sweet as music over water，but strong enough to shake the woods．And I said to myself，‘If that’s not the Horn，call me a rabbit． ’ And a moment later I wondered why he hadn’t blown it sooner—”
“What time was it？”asked Edmund．
“Between nine and ten of the clock，”said Trumpkin．
“Just when we were at the railway station！”said all the children，and looked at one another with shining eyes．
“Please go on，”said Lucy to the Dwarf．
I could pelt．I kept on all night—
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