“All our squirrels （and we haven’t many），” said Nikabrik， “are rather flighty. The only one I‘d trust on a job like that would be Pattertwig.”
“Let it be Pattertwig， then，” said King Caspian. “And who for our other messenger？ I know you’d go， Trufflehunter， but you haven‘t the speed. Nor you， Doctor Cornelius.”
“I won’t go，” said Nikabrik. “With all these Humans and beasts about， there must be a Dwarf here to see that the Dwarfs are fairly treated.”
“Thimbles and thunderstorms！” cried Trumpkin in a rage. “Is that how you speak to the King？ Send me， Sire， I‘ll go.”
“But I thought you didn’t believe in the Horn， Trumpkin，” said Caspian.
“No more I do， your Majesty. But what‘s that got to do with it？ I might as well die on a wild goose chase as die here. You are my King. I know the difference between giving advice and taking orders. You’ve had my advice， and now it‘s the time for orders.”
“I will never forget this， Trumpkin，” said Caspian. “Send for Pattertwig， one of you. And when shall I blow the Horn？”
“I would wait for sunrise， your Majesty，” said Doctor Cornelius. “That sometimes has an effect in operations of White Magic.”
