“I think it’s the river.god， but hush，” said Lucy. “Bacchus，” said Aslan. “Deliver him from his chains.” “That means the bridge， I expect，” thought Lucy. And soit did. Bacchus and his people splashed forward into the shallow water， and a minute later the most curious things began happening. Great， strong trunks of ivy came curling up all the piers of the bridge， growing as quickly as a fire grows， wrapping the stones round， splitting， breaking， separating them. The walls of the bridge turned into hedges gay with hawthorn for a moment and then disappeared as the whole thing with a rush and a rumble collapsed into the swirling water. With much splashing， screaming， and laughter the revellers waded or swam or danced across the ford （“Hurrah！ It‘s the Ford of Beruna again now！” cried the girls） and up the bank on the far side and into the town.
