The Spell Begins To Break
魔法开始失灵
Now we must go back to Mr and Mrs Beaver and the three other children. As soon as Mr Beaver said， “There‘s no time to lose，” everyone began bundling themselves into coats， except Mrs Beaver， who started picking up sacks and laying them on the table and said： “Now， Mr Beaver， just reach down that ham. And here’s a packet of tea， and there‘s sugar， and some matches. And if someone will get two or three loaves out of the crock over there in the corner.”
“What are you doing， Mrs Beaver？” exclaimed Susan.
“Packing a load for each of us， dearie，” said Mrs Beaver very coolly. “You didn’t think we‘d set out on a journey with nothing to eat， did you？”
“But we haven’t time！” said Susan， buttoning the collar of her coat. “She may be here any minute.”
“That‘s what I say，” chimed in Mr Beaver.
“Get along with you all，” said his wife. “Think it over， Mr Beaver. She can’t be here for quarter of an hour at least.”
“But don‘t we want as big a start as we can possibly get，” said Peter， “if we’re to reach the Stone Table before her？”
“You‘ve got to remember that， Mrs Beaver，” said Susan. “As soon as she has looked in here and finds we’re gone she‘ll be off at top speed.”
“That she will，” said Mrs Beaver. “But we can’t get there before her whatever we do， for she‘ll be on a sledge and we’ll be walking.”
“Then-have we no hope？” said Susan.
“Now don‘t you get fussing， there’s a dear，” said Mrs Beaver， “but just get half a dozen clean handkerchiefs out of the drawer. ‘Course we’ve got a hope. We can‘t get there before her but we can keep under cover and go by ways she won’t expect and perhaps we‘ll get through.”
“That’s true enough， Mrs Beaver，” said her husband. “But it‘s time we were out of this.”
“And don’t you start fussing either， Mr Beaver，” said his wife. “There. That‘s better. There’s five loads and the smallest for the smallest of us： that‘s you， my dear，” she added， looking at Lucy.
“Oh， do please come on，” said Lucy.
“Well， I’m nearly ready now，” answered Mrs Beaver at last， allowing her husband to help her into her snow-boots. “I suppose the sewing machine‘s too heavy to bring？”
“Yes. It is，” said Mr Beaver. “A great deal too heavy. And you don’t think you‘ll be able to use it while we’re on the run， I suppose？”
“I can‘t abide the thought of that Witch fiddling with it，” said Mrs Beaver， “and breaking it or stealing it， as likely as not.”
“Oh， please， please， please， do hurry！” said the three children. And so at last they all got outside and Mr Beaver locked the door （“It’ll delay her a bit，” he said） and they set off， all carrying their loads over their shoulders.
The snow had stopped and the moon had come out when they began their journey. They went in single file-first Mr Beaver， then Lucy， then Peter， then Susan， and Mrs Beaver last of all. Mr Beaver led them across the dam and on to the right bank of the river and then along a very rough sort of path among the trees right down by the river-bank. The sides of the valley， shining in the moonlight， towered up far above them on either side. “Best keep down here as much as possible，” he said. “She‘ll have to keep to the top， for you couldn’t bring a sledge down here.”
It would have been a pretty enough scene to look at it through awindow from a comfortable armchair； and even as things were， Lucy enjoyed it at first. But as they went on walking and walking-and walking-and as the sack she was carrying felt heavier and heavier， she began to wonder how she was going to keep up at all. And she stopped looking at the dazzling brightness of the frozen river with all its waterfalls of ice and at the white masses of the tree-tops and the great glaring moon and the countless stars and could only watch the little short legs of Mr Beaver going pad-pad-pad-pad through the snow in front of her as if they were never going to stop. Then the moon disappeared and the snow began to fall once more. And at last Lucy was so tired that she was almost asleep and walking at the same time when suddenly she found that Mr Beaver had turned away from the river-bank to the right and was leading them steeply uphill into the very thickest bushes. And then as she came fully awake she found that Mr Beaver was just vanishing into a little hole in the bank which had been almost hidden under the bushes until you were quite on top of it. In fact， by the time she realized what was happening， only his short flat tail was showing.
Lucy immediately stooped down and crawled in after him. Then she heard noises of scrambling and puffing and panting behind her and in a moment all five of them were inside.
“Wherever is this？” said Peter‘s voice， sounding tired and pale in the darkness. （I hope you know what I mean by a voice sounding pale.）“It’s an old hiding-place for beavers in bad times，” said Mr Beaver， “and a great secret. It‘s not much of a place but we must get a few hours’ sleep.”
“If you hadn‘t all been in such a plaguey fuss when we were starting， I’d have brought some pillows，” said Mrs Beaver.
It wasn‘t nearly such a nice cave as Mr Tumnus’s， Lucy thought- just a hole in the ground but dry and earthy. It was very small so that when they all lay down they were all a bundle of clothes together， and what with that and being warmed up by their long walk they were really rather snug. If only the floor of the cave had been a little smoother！ Then Mrs Beaver handed round in the dark a little flask outof which everyone drank something-it made one cough and splutter a little and stung the throat， but it also made you feel deliciously warm after you‘d swallowed-and everyone went straight to sleep.