“Owls ahoy！” it said. “What is it？ Is the King dead？ Has n enemy landed in Narnia？ Is it a flood？ Or dragons？” When the light reached them， it turned out to be that f a large lantern. Jill could see very little of the person ho held it. He seemed to be all legs and arms. The owls ere talking to him， explaining everything， but she was too red to listen. She tried to wake herself up a bit when she ealized that they were saying goodbye to her. But she could ever afterwards remember much except that， sooner or ter， she and Scrubb were stooping to enter a low doorway nd then （oh， thank heavens） were lying down on something oft and warm， and a voice was saying：
“There you are. Best we can do. You’ll lie cold and hard. amp too， I shouldn‘t wonder. Won’t sleep a wink， most kely； even if there isn‘t a thunderstorm or a flood or the igwam doesn’t fall down on top of us all， as I‘ve known hem do. Must make the best of it.” But she was fast sleep before the voice had ended.
When the children woke late next morning they found hat they were lying， very dry and warm， on beds of straw in dark place. A triangular opening let in the daylight. “Where on earth are we？” asked Jill.
“In the wigwam of a Marsh.wiggle，” said Eustace. “A what？”
