CHAPTER NINE: HOW THEY DISCOVERED SOMETHING WORTH KNOWING

THE others admitted afterwards that Jill had been wonderful that day. As soon as the King and the rest of the hunting party had set off, she began making a tour of the whole castle and asking questions, but all in such an innocent, babyish way that no one could suspect her of any secret design. Though her tongue was never still, you could hardly say she talked: she prattled and giggled. She made love to everyone—the grooms, the porters, the housemaids, the ladies-in-waiting, and the elderly giant lords whose hunting days were past. She submitted to being kissed and pawed about by any number of giantesses, many of whom seemed sorry for her and called her “a poor little thing” though none of them explained why. She made especial friends with the cook and discovered the allimportant fact there was a scullery door which let you out through the outer wall, so that you did not have to cross the courtyard or pass the great gatehouse. In the kitchen she pretended to be greedy, and ate all sorts of scraps which the cook and scullions delighted to give her. But upstairs among the ladies she asked questions about how she would be dressed for the great feast, and how long she would be allowed to sit up, and whether she would dance with some very, very small giant. And then (it made her hot all over when she remembered it afterwards) she would put her head on one side in an idiotic fashion which grown-ups, giant and otherwise, thought very fetching, and shake her curls, and fidget, and say, “Oh, I do wish it was tomorrow night, don't you? Do you think the time will go quickly till then?” And all the giantesses said she was a perfect little darling; and some of them dabbed their eyes with enormous handkerchiefs as if they were going to cry.

“They're dear little things at that age,” said one giantess to another. “It seems almost a pity...”

Scrubb and Puddleglum both did their best, but girls do that kind of thing better than boys. Even boys do it better than Marsh-wiggles.

At lunchtime something happened which made all three of them more anxious than ever to leave the castle of the Gentle Giants. They had lunch in the great hall at a little table of their own, near the fireplace. At a bigger table, about twenty yards away, half a dozen old giants were lunching. Their conversation was so noisy, and so high up in the air, that the children soon took no more notice of it than you would of hooters outside the window or traffic noises in the street. They were eating cold venison, a kind of food which Jill had never tasted before, and she was liking it.

Suddenly Puddleglum turned to them, and his face had gone so pale that you could see the paleness under the natural muddiness of his complexion. He said:

“Don't eat another bite.”

“What's wrong?” asked the other two in a whisper.

“Didn't you hear what those giants were saying? ‘That's a nice tender haunch of venison,’ said one of them. ‘Then that stag was a liar,’ said another. ‘Why?’ said the first one. ‘Oh,’ said the other. ‘They say that when he was caught he said, Don't kill me, I'm tough. You won't like me.”’

For a moment Jill did not realize the full meaning of this. But she did when Scrubb's eyes opened wide with horror and he said: “So we've been eating a Talking stag.”

This discovery didn't have exactly the same effect on all of them. Jill, who was new to that world, was sorry for the poor stag and thought it rotten of the giants to have killed him. Scrubb, who had been in that world before and had at least one Talking beast as his dear friend, felt horrified; as you might feel about a murder. But Puddleglum, who was Narnian born, was sick and faint, and felt as you would feel if you found you had eaten a baby.

“We've brought the anger of Aslan on us,” he said. “That's what comes of not attending to the signs. We're under a curse, I expect. If it was allowed, it would be the best thing we could do, to take these knives and drive them into our own hearts.”

And gradually even Jill came to see it from his point of view. At any rate, none of them wanted any more lunch. And as soon as they thought it safe they crept quietly out of the hall.

It was now drawing near to that time of the day on which their hopes of escape depended, and all became nervous. They hung about in passages and waited for things to become quiet. The giants in the hall sat on a dreadfully long time after the meal was over. The bald one was telling a story. When that was over, the three travellers dawdled down to the kitchen. But there were still plenty of giants there, or at least in the scullery, washing up and putting things away. It was agonizing, waiting till these finished their jobs and, one by one, wiped their hands and went away. At last only one old giantess was left in the room. She pottered about, and pottered about, and at last the three travellers realized with horror that she did not intend to go away at all.

“Well, dearies,” she said to them. “That job's about through. Let's put the kettle there. That'll make a nice cup of tea presently. Now I can have a little bit of a rest. Just look into the scullery, like good poppets, and tell me if the back door is open.”

“Yes, it is,” said Scrubb.

“That's right. I always leave it open so as Puss can get in and out, the poor thing.”

Then she sat down on one chair and put her feet up on another.

“I don't know as I mightn't have forty winks,” said the giantess. “If only that blarney hunting party doesn't come back too soon.”

All their spirits leaped up when she mentioned forty winks, and flopped down again when she mentioned the return of the hunting party.

“When do they usually comeback?” asked Jill.

“You never can tell,” said the giantess. “But there; go and be quiet for a bit, my dearies.”

They retreated to the far end of the kitchen, and would have slipped out into the scullery there and then if the giantess had not sat up, opened her eyes, and brushed away a fly.

“Don't try it till we're sure she's really asleep,” whispered Scrubb. “Or it'll spoil everything.”

So they all huddled at the kitchen end, waiting and watching. The thought that the hunters might come back at any moment was terrible. And the giantess was fidgety. Whenever they thought she had really gone to sleep, she moved.

“I can't bear this,” thought Jill. To distract her mind, she began looking about her. Just in front of her was a clean wide table with two clean pie-dishes on it, and an open book. They were giant pie-dishes of course. Jill thought that she could lie down just comfortably in one of them. Then she climbed up on the bench beside the table to look at the book. She read:

MALLARD. This delicious bird can be cooked in a variety of ways.

“It's a cookery book,” thought Jill without much interest, and glanced over her shoulder. The giantess's eyes were shut but she didn't look as if she were properly asleep. Jill glanced back at the book. It was arranged alphabetically: and at the very next entry her heart seemed to stop beating; it ran—

MAN. This elegant little biped has long been valued as a delicacy. It forms a traditional part of the Autumn Feast, and is served between the fish and the joint. Each Man—

but she could not bear to read any more. She turned round. The giantess had wakened up and was having a fit of coughing. Jill nudged the other two and pointed to the book. They also mounted the bench and bent over the huge pages. Scrubb was still reading about how to cook Men when Puddleglum pointed to the next entry below it. It was like this:

MARSH-WIGGLE. Some authorities reject this animal altogether as unfit for giants' consumption because of its stringy consistency and muddy flavour. The flavour can, however, be greatly reduced if—

Jill touched his feet, and Scrubb's, gently. All three looked back at the giantess. Her mouth was slightly open and from her nose there came a sound which at that moment was more welcome to them than any music; she snored. And now it was a question of tiptoe work, not daring to go too fast, hardly daring to breathe, out through the scullery (giant sculleries smell horrid), out at last into the pale sunlight of a winter afternoon.

They were at the top of a rough little path which ran steeply down. And, thank heavens, on the right side of the castle; the City Ruinous was in sight. In a few minutes they were back on the broad, steep road which led down from the main gate of the castle. They were also in full view from every single window on that side. If it had been one, or two, or five windows there'd be a reasonable chance that no one might be looking out. But there were nearer fifty than five. They now realized, too, that the road on which they were, and indeed all the ground between them and the City Ruinous, didn't offer as much cover as would hide a fox; it was all coarse grass and pebbles and flat stones. To make matters worse, they were now in the clothes that the giants had provided for them last night: except Puddleglum, whom nothing would fit. Jill wore a vivid green robe, rather too long for her, and over that a scarlet mantle fringed with white fur. Scrubb had scarlet stockings, blue tunic and cloak, a gold-hilted sword, and a feathered bonnet.

“Nice bits of colour, you two are,” muttered Puddleglum. “Show up very prettily on a winter day. The worst archer in the world couldn't miss either of you if you were in range. And talking of archers, we'll be sorry not to have our own bows before long, I shouldn't wonder. Bit thin, too, those clothes of yours, are they?”

“Yes, I'm freezing already,” said Jill.

A few minutes ago when they had been in the kitchen, she had thought that if only they could once get out of the castle, their escape would be almost complete. She now realized that the most dangerous part of it was still to come.

“Steady, steady,” said Puddleglum. “Don't look back. Don't walk too quickly. Whatever you do, don't run. Look as if we were just taking a stroll, and then, if anyone sees us, he might, just possibly, not bother. The moment we look like people running away, we're done.”

The distance to the City Ruinous seemed longer than Jill would have believed possible. But bit by bit they were covering it. Then came a noise. The other two gasped. Jill, who didn't know what it was, said, “What's that?”

“Hunting horn,” whispered Scrubb.

“But don't run even now,” said Puddleglum. “Not until I give the word.”

This time Jill couldn't help glancing over her shoulder. There, about half a mile away, was the hunt returning from behind them on the left.

They walked on. Suddenly a great clamour of giant voices arose: then shouts and hollas.

“They've seen us. Run,” said Puddleglum.

Jill gathered up her long skirts—horrible things for running in—and ran. There was no mistaking the danger now. She could hear the music of the hounds. She could hear the King's voice roaring out, “After them, after them, or we'll have no man-pies tomorrow.”

She was last of the three now, cumbered with her dress, slipping on loose stones, her hair getting in her mouth, running—pains across her chest. The hounds were much nearer. Now she had to run uphill, up the stony slope which led to the lowest step of the giant stairway. She had no idea what they would do when they got there, or how they would be any better off even if they reached the top.

But she didn't think about that. She was like a hunted animal now; as long as the pack was after her, she must run till she dropped.

The Marsh-wiggle was ahead. As he came to the lowest step he stopped, looked a little to his right, and all of a sudden darted into a little hole or crevice at the bottom of it. His long legs, disappearing into it, looked very like those of a spider. Scrubb hesitated and then vanished after him. Jill, breathless and reeling, came to the place about a minute later. It was an unattractive hole—a crack between the earth and the stone about three feet long and hardly more than a foot high. You had to fling yourself flat on your face and crawl in. You couldn't do it so very quickly either. She felt sure that a dog's teeth would close on her heel before she had got inside.

“Quick, quick. Stones. Fill up the opening,” came Puddleglum's voice in the darkness beside her. It was pitch black in there, except for the grey light in the opening by which they had crawled in. The other two were working hard. She could see Scrubb's small hands and the Marshwiggle's big, frog-like hands black against the light, working desperately to pile up stones. Then she realized how important this was and began groping for large stones herself, and handing them to the others. Before the dogs were baying and yelping at the cave mouth, they had it pretty well filled; and now, of course, there was no light at all.

“Further in, quick,” said Puddleglum's voice.

“Let's all hold hands,” said Jill.

“Good idea,” said Scrubb. But it took them quite a long time to find one another's hands in the darkness. The dogs were sniffing at the other side of the barrier now.

“Try if we can stand up,” suggested Scrubb. They did and found that they could. Then, Puddleglum holding out a hand behind him to Scrubb, and Scrubb holding a hand out behind him to Jill (who wished very much that she was the middle one of the party and not the last), they began groping with their feet and stumbling forwards into the blackness. It was all loose stones underfoot. Then Puddleglum came up to a wall of rock. They turned a little to their right and went on. There were a good many more twists and turns. Jill had now no sense of direction at all, and no idea where the mouth of the cave lay.

“The question is,” came Puddleglum's voice out of the darkness ahead, “whether, taking one thing with another, it wouldn't be better to go back (if we can) and give the giants a treat at that feast of theirs, instead of losing our way in the guts of a hill where, ten to one, there's dragons and deep holes and gases and water and—Ow! Let go! Save yourselves. I'm—”

After that all happened quickly. There was a wild cry, a swishing, dusty, gravelly noise, a rattle of stones, and Jill found herself sliding, sliding, hopelessly sliding, and sliding quicker every moment down a slope that grew steeper every moment. It was not a smooth, firm slope, but a slope of small stones and rubbish. Even if you could have stood up, it would have been no use. Any bit of that slope you had put your foot on would have slid away from under you and carried you down with it. But Jill was more lying than standing. And the further they all slid, the more they disturbed all the stones and earth, so that the general downward rush of everything (including themselves) got faster and louder and dustier and dirtier. From the sharp cries and swearing of the other two, Jill got the idea that many of the stones which she was dislodging were hitting Scrubb and Puddleglum pretty hard. And now she was going at a furious rate and felt sure she would be broken to bits at the bottom.

Yet somehow they weren't. They were a mass of bruises, and the wet sticky stuff on her face appeared to be blood. And such a mass of loose earth, shingle, and larger stones was piled up round her (and partly over her) that she couldn't get up. The darkness was so complete that it made no difference at all whether you had your eyes open or shut. There was no noise. And that was the very worst moment Jill had ever known in her life. Supposing she was alone: supposing the others... Then she heard movements around her. And presently all three, in shaken voices, were explaining that none of them seemed to have any broken bones.

“We can never get up that again,” said Scrubb's voice.

“And have you noticed how warm it is?” said the voice of Puddleglum. “That means we're a long way down. Might be nearly a mile.”

No one said anything. Some time later Puddleglum added: “My tinder-box has gone.”

After another long pause Jill said, “I'm terribly thirsty.”

No one suggested doing anything. There was so obviously nothing to be done. For the moment, they did not feel it quite so badly as one might have expected; that was because they were so tired.

Long, long afterwards, without the slightest warning, an utterly strange voice spoke. They knew at once that it was not the one voice in the whole world for which each had secretly been hoping; the voice of Aslan. It was a dark, flat voice—almost, if you know what that means, a pitch-black voice. It said:

“What make you here, creatures of the Overworld?”

第九章 重要发现

后来，另外两人都承认，吉尔那天的表现棒极了。国王带领狩猎团一出发，她就开始满城堡地参观，问东问西，但始终是以一种天真的孩子气的方式，所以没有人会怀疑她有什么秘密企图。尽管她的舌头一直都没有闲着，但你很难说她是在说话，还是一直在咿咿呀呀叽叽咯咯。她对每个人都示好——马夫、看门人、女佣、女侍从，还有无法去打猎的年老的巨人爵士们。她顺从地接受数不清的女巨人的亲吻和爱抚，她们似乎都很可怜她，都叫她“可怜的小东西”，不过没有人解释这到底是为什么。她和厨师交上了朋友，并发现了至关重要的事情：后厨的洗碗间有一扇门，可以让他们直接穿过外墙，因此他们就不必穿过庭院或是经过门房。在厨房里面，她装作非常贪吃的样子，把厨师和杂工开心地给她的各种食物残渣都吃了。不过到了楼上，和夫人们在一起时，她又开始打听应该穿什么样的衣服出席盛宴，宴会过程中她能待多久，是不是可以和一个个子非常非常矮小的巨人跳舞。这时（后来每当她回忆起来时，都感觉浑身发烫）她歪着脑袋摆出一副白痴相——成年人、巨人和其他人都觉得这个姿势很迷人——晃动着一头鬈发，坐立不安地说：“啊，我真想现在就是明天晚上了，你们呢？你们觉得时间能过得快一些吗？”所有的女巨人都说她真是个完美的小宝贝，有些人用大手帕抹着眼睛，似乎就要哭出来了。

“他们这个年纪的都是些可爱的小东西，”一个女巨人对另一个说，“这似乎很遗憾……”

斯克罗布和普登格伦姆也都尽了全力，然而在这种事情上，女孩就是表现得比男孩好。不过男孩依然表现得比沼泽怪好。

午饭的时候，发生了一些事，让这三个人都更急于离开文雅巨人的城堡。他们在大厅中离壁炉不远的一张专门给他们用的小桌子边用餐。距离他们大约二十码远的地方，有一张大桌子，有五六个老巨人在那边吃午饭。他们的谈话声非常吵，而且又高高在上，两个孩子很快就不注意这些话了，正如你很快就会不注意窗户外面的汽笛声或街道上车马往来的声音。他们吃的是冷鹿肉，吉尔过去从来都没有吃过这种东西，她很喜欢吃。

突然之间，普登格伦姆转头望向他们，他的脸刷的一下变得十分苍白，即便是他的皮肤上蒙了一层天生的泥土色，你依然能看到他苍白的脸色。他说：“一口也别再吃了。”

“怎么了？”两个孩子悄声问。

“你们没听到那些巨人刚才说的话吗？‘这块鹿的腰腿肉真是又美味又软嫩。’其中一个说。‘这么说，那头公鹿真是个骗子。’另一个说。‘为什么这么说呀？’第一个说。‘噢，’另一个说，‘他们说，他被抓住的时候，说：“不要杀我，我的肉很硬，你们不会喜欢的。”’”

吉尔一时没有理解这些话的真正含义。直到斯克罗布惊恐地睁大眼睛，说：“所以我们吃的是一头会说话的公鹿。”

对于这个发现，每个人的感觉不尽相同。吉尔对这个世界还不熟悉，觉得那头公鹿很可怜，认为杀了他的巨人很坏。而斯克罗布曾经来过这个世界，至少有一个会说话的动物是他的好朋友，所以他觉得非常害怕，就像你对谋杀的感觉一样。而普登格伦姆生来就是纳尼亚人，他恶心难受，头晕目眩，就仿佛你发现自己吃了一个婴儿一样。

“我们惹得阿斯兰对我们发怒了，”普登格伦姆说，“这就是我们没有留意到那些提示的结果。我们被诅咒了，我觉得是。如果可以的话，我们能做的最好的事情就是拿起这些刀子，插入我们自己的心脏。”

最后，即便是吉尔也能从普登格伦姆的立场来看待这件事情了。总之，他们没有一个人再吃得下午饭。他们一等到认为比较安全的时候，就轻手轻脚地溜出了大厅。

现在离他们希望能安全逃出去的时间越来越近了，三个人都紧张了起来。他们在走廊中走来走去，等待一切都安静下来。大厅中的巨人们在吃过饭后又坐了极其漫长的一段时间。一个秃头的巨人讲了一个故事。等到他们结束，三个旅行者便悄悄地溜进了厨房。不过那里还有很多巨人，至少在洗碗间里面还有很多巨人忙着擦洗碗碟，收拾东西。等待这些巨人一个接一个地干完各自的活儿，擦干手离开厨房的过程真是让人痛苦难耐。终于，厨房里只剩下一个年老的女巨人了。她东晃晃，西晃晃，最后三个旅行者惊恐地意识到，她根本没打算离开。

“好啦，宝贝们，”她对他们说，“那些活儿都差不多干完了。咱们把水壶放那边，很快就能泡出一杯好喝的茶来。现在我要休息一小会儿。好乖乖们，你们看看洗碗间里面，告诉我后门开着没。”

“是开着的。”斯克罗布说。

“好的。我总是把后门开着，这样小猫就能进出了，那可怜的小东西。”

然后她坐在一把椅子里，把脚架在了另一把椅子上。

“不知道我能不能打个盹，”女巨人说，“但愿喜欢找茬的狩猎队不会回来得太早。”

听到她说“打个盹”，三个人的精神都提了起来，但听到她说狩猎队回来，就又一下落了下去。

“他们通常都什么时候回来？”吉尔问。

“谁也说不准。”女巨人说，“好啦，你们去一边安静一会儿，小宝贝们。”

他们退到厨房的另一头，要不是那个女巨人坐起来，睁开眼睛，挥手赶走了一只苍蝇，他们可能早就溜到洗碗间里去了。“在我们肯定她真的睡着了之前不要轻举妄动。”斯克罗布低声说，“不然会把事情搞砸的。”所以，他们都挤在厨房的那一端，等待着，观察着。去打猎的人随时都有可能回来，一想到这个，他们就觉得可怕极了。而女巨人又一直都睡得不安生。每次他们认为她真的睡着了，她就会动一动。

“我受不了了。”吉尔心想。为了分散注意力，她开始打量四周。她面前正好是一张干净的宽桌子，上面摆着两个干净的馅饼模子，还有一本打开的书。当然，它们是巨大的馅饼模子。吉尔觉得自己都可以舒舒服服地躺到其中的一个里面去。然后，她就爬到了桌边的长椅上，想看看那本书。她读道：

野鸭。这种美味的鸟有多种烹饪方法。

“这是一本厨艺书。”吉尔没有多少兴趣，她扭过头望了望，女巨人的眼睛是闭着的，不过她的样子似乎并没有真的睡着。吉尔又转头继续看书。这本书是按照字母排序的，看到下一个条目时，她的心几乎停止了跳动。这一条是这样的：

人。这种外形优雅的小型两足动物很久以前就被当作美味佳肴，成为秋季盛宴的一道传统菜。在鱼和烤肉之间上桌。每个人……

她读不下去了。她转过身。女巨人又醒了，爆发出一阵咳嗽。吉尔用胳膊肘推了推另外两个人，指着那本书。他们也都爬上长椅，伏在巨大的书页上。斯克罗布还在读着如何烹饪人的那部分，普登格伦姆指向了下面一个条目。那个条目是这样的：

沼泽怪。有些专家不吃这种动物，因为其肉质多筋还带有土腥味，不适合巨人的消化系统。不过土腥味可以极大程度地降低，只要……

吉尔轻轻地碰了碰他的脚，又碰了碰斯克罗布的脚。三个人都转头望向女巨人。她的嘴微微张着，鼻子发出了此刻在他们听来比任何音乐都要动人的声音：她在打鼾。现在的关键就是踮着脚尖走路了，他们不敢走得太快，几乎都不敢喘气，他们穿过洗碗间（巨人的洗碗间味道极其可怕），最终走到了冬季午后苍白暗淡的阳光里。

他们站在一条崎岖的小路的顶上，这是一条下坡路，十分陡峭。而且，谢天谢地，这条路正在城堡的正面，他们能够看到古城遗迹。过了一会儿，他们就走上了从城堡大门向下的宽敞陡峭的大路。而这一边的每一扇窗户，都可以一览无遗地看到他们。如果这面只有一扇窗户，或是两扇，哪怕是五扇，那还有相当的可能性没有人往外看。但这里可不是五扇窗，而是差不多有五十扇。而且，他们现在也发现了，他们正在走的这条路，乃至他们与古城遗迹之间的整片地方，都没有什么能够提供掩护，哪怕是掩护一只小狐狸，这里全是坑坑洼洼的野草、鹅卵石和平坦的石块。而雪上加霜的是，他们现在穿的衣服是昨天晚上巨人给他们的衣服，普登格伦姆除外，因为没有适合他的衣服。吉尔穿的是一件鲜绿色的长袍，对她来说特别特别长，外面披着一件镶了白色皮毛边的猩红色斗篷。斯克罗布穿的是猩红色的长袜、蓝色束腰上衣和蓝色斗篷，配一把金柄的剑，头戴一顶装饰着羽毛的无边帽。

“真是色彩缤纷啊，你们俩。”普登格伦姆咕哝，“在冬天这么穿真是很显眼呢。只要你们在射程内，这个世界上最糟糕的弓箭手也不会失手。说到弓箭手，我们用不了多久就会遗憾没有带上弓，我一点儿都不觉得奇怪。你们的那些衣服还有点儿薄，是不是？”

“是，我已经冻坏了。”吉尔说。

几分钟之前，他们还在厨房里的时候，她本来以为只要他们能离开城堡，他们的逃亡就差不多大功告成了。现在她才意识到，最危险的部分还没有开始呢。

“稳住，稳住，”普登格伦姆说，“不要回头看。不要走太快。无论做什么，都不要跑。表现得就像我们只是在闲逛一样，这样的话，如果有人看到我们，他可能，只是可能不会在意我们。如果我们表现得像逃跑的人，就完蛋了。”

和古城遗迹之间的距离似乎比吉尔认为的要长。不过，他们还是在一点点儿地往前走。这时，传来了一阵动静。另外两个人都倒吸了一口凉气。吉尔并不知道那是什么声音，问：“那是什么？”

“狩猎的号角。”斯克罗布轻声说。

“不过现在也不能跑。”普登格伦姆说，“绝对不能跑，除非我发话。”

这一次，吉尔不由自主地扭头望了望。他们左后方半英里远的地方，是归来的狩猎队。

他们继续向前走。突然之间，传来一阵巨大的喧嚣声，紧接着是各种喊叫声。

“他们看见我们了。快跑！”普登格伦姆说。

吉尔拎起长裙——穿着这样的衣服逃跑真是可怕——放开脚步跑了起来。现在真的有危险了。她能听到猎狗的叫声。她能听到国王的吼声：“追上他们，追上他们，要不明天我们就没有人肉馅饼吃了。”

她是三个人当中跑在最后面的，衣服很碍事，她在松动的石头上滑了一下，头发飘进了嘴里，因为奔跑而产生的痛苦直击胸口。猎犬离他们的距离比刚才近了很多。而现在，她必须得跑上山，爬上怪石嶙峋的陡坡，这条陡坡通向巨人台阶最下面的一层。她不知道到了那里之后该怎么办，也不知道就算他们到了顶上，又能好到哪里去。不过她没有想那么多。现在的她就像一只被追猎的动物，只要后面还有人追着，她就必须一直跑，直到倒下为止。

沼泽怪跑在最前面。他刚到最低的台阶边，就停下脚步，向右边望了望，突然之间就钻进了台阶底部的一个小洞中，也可能是一道裂缝。他的长腿一下就缩进去不见了，样子特别像只蜘蛛。斯克罗布迟疑了一下，跟着他躲了进去。吉尔上气不接下气，头昏脑涨，比他们晚了一分钟到那个地方。这个洞看起来真的不会让人产生爬进去的欲望——是一道泥土和石头之间的裂缝，大约三英尺长，几乎不到一英尺高。你必须趴下去，才能爬进去。而且，你也没有办法很快地躲进去。她觉得，她还没有进去，猎狗的牙齿就肯定会咬住她的脚后跟。

“快点儿，快点儿。石头，堵住洞口。”普登格伦姆的声音从她身边的黑暗中传来。下面一片漆黑，只有他们爬进去的洞口处有些灰蒙蒙的光。另外两个人正在卖力干活。她能看到斯克罗布的小手和沼泽怪像青蛙爪子一样的大手，背着光看起来黑漆漆的，正在拼命地堆石头。这时，她才意识到这有多重要，自己也开始摸索大石头，递给另外两个人。在猎狗吠叫着到达洞口前，他们把洞口堵得严严实实的，而现在，当然，洞内一点儿光都没有了。

“再往里走，快。”是普登格伦姆的声音。

“咱们手拉着手吧。”吉尔说。

“好主意。”斯克罗布说。不过他们花了好一会儿工夫才在黑暗中握到彼此的手。此刻，猎狗们正在他们筑起的障碍的另一面嗅来嗅去。

“试试我们能不能站起来。”斯克罗布提议。他们试了试，发现可以站起来。然后，普登格伦姆向后探着手给斯克罗布，斯克罗布向后探着手给吉尔（她真的希望自己是在中间，而不是在最后），他们开始伸出脚探路，在黑暗中跌跌撞撞地向前。脚底下全都是松动的石头。这时，普登格伦姆遇到了一面石壁。他们向右拐了一些，继续向前。一路上非常曲折，还有很多拐弯处。吉尔完全失去了方向感，已经不知道洞口在何方了。

“问题是，”普登格伦姆的声音从前面的黑暗中传来，“综合权衡之下，就算我们可以回去，再回去给巨人们的盛宴添菜也不会有什么好处吧，哪怕我们会在一座山的内部迷路，我敢说，这里十有八九会有龙，有深坑，有毒气，有大水，有——哎哟！松手！顾好你们自己！我……”

这之后的一切瞬息万变。先是传来一声狂叫，然后嗖的一声，紧接着灰尘四起，一阵沙沙的声音，还有石头滚动的声音，然后吉尔发现自己正在下滑，下滑，势不可挡地下滑，下滑的速度越来越快，而身下的斜坡也越来越陡。这并不是一个光滑而牢固的斜坡，而是由碎石和垃圾组成的斜坡。即便你能够站起来，也不会有什么用。无论你站在这个斜坡上的哪一点，这个地方都会滑动起来，并且带着你一起往下。更何况吉尔不是站着的，而是躺着的。他们滑行的距离越远，带动的石头和泥土也就越多，所以，整个下滑的洪流（包括他们自己）也就越来越快，声音越来越大，灰尘越来越多，一切都越来越脏。从其他两个人发出来的尖叫声和咒骂声，吉尔大体听得出来她带动起来的很多石头都重重地砸在了斯克罗布和普登格伦姆身上。她的速度快得像疯了似的，她很肯定自己滑到底部，必然会摔成碎片。

然而，不知怎么回事，他们并没有。他们都有很多瘀伤，脸上有湿漉漉黏糊糊的东西，那应该是血。她身子周围堆了一大圈松动的土、鹅卵石和大石头（有些压在了她身上），她站不起来。周围是一片黑暗，睁着眼睛和闭着眼睛根本不会有什么区别。而且一片静寂。这是吉尔这一生经历的最糟糕的时刻了。她以为她是孤单一人，她以为另外两个都……这时，她听到了身边传来的动静。没多久，三个人就都用颤抖的声音解释说自己似乎没有摔断骨头。

“我们再也上不去了。”斯克罗布的声音说。

“你们注意到这里有多暖和了吗？”普登格伦姆的声音说，“这意味着我们下滑了很长一段路。也许差不多有一英里。”

没有人再说什么。过了一会儿，普登格伦姆又说：“我的火绒盒不见了。”

又是很长一段时间的沉默，然后吉尔说：“我要渴死了。”

没有人提议做什么事情，因为很明显无事可做。那个时候，他们的感觉并不像大家以为的那么糟糕，因为他们都太累了。

过了很久很久，丝毫没有预兆，出现了一个非常奇怪的声音。他们立刻就听出来了，这并不是他们各自心中都最期待的那个声音，这不是阿斯兰的声音。这是一个阴森单调的声音，是一个几乎漆黑一片的声音，要是你能理解的话。这个声音说：“你们怎么到了这里，地上世界的生物？”