In fact every minute it grew foggier and warmer.
And the sledge was not running nearly as well as it had been running up till now.
At first he thought this was because the reindeer were tired, but soon he saw that that couldn’t be the real reason.
The sledge jerked, and skidded and kept on jolting as if it had struck against stones.
And however the dwarf whipped the poor reindeer the sledge went slower and slower.
There also seemed to be a curious noise all round them, but the noise of their driving and jolting and the dwarf’s shouting at the reindeer prevented Edmund from hearing what it was, until suddenly the sledge stuck so fast that it wouldn’t go on at all.
When that happened there was a moment’s silence.
And in that silence Edmund could at last listen to the other noise properly.
A strange, sweet, rustling, chattering noise—and yet not so strange, for he’d heard it before—if only he could remember where!
Then all at once he did remember.
It was the noise of running water.
All round them though out of sight, there were streams, chattering, murmuring, bubbling, splashing and even (in the distance) roaring.
And his heart gave a great leap (though he hardly knew why) when he realized that the frost was over.
And much nearer there was a drip-drip-drip from the branches of all the trees.
And then, as he looked at one tree he saw a great load of snow slide off it and for the first time since he had entered Narnia he saw the dark green of a fir tree.
But he hadn’t time to listen or watch any longer, for the Witch said:
“Don’t sit staring, fool!
Get out and help.”
And of course Edmund had to obey.
He stepped out into the snow—but it was really only slush by now—and began helping the dwarf to get the sledge out of the muddy hole it had got into.
They got it out in the end, and by being very cruel to the reindeer the dwarf managed to get it on the move again, and they drove a little further.
And now the snow was really melting in earnest and patches of green grass were beginning to appear in every direction.
Unless you have looked at a world of snow as long as Edmund had been looking at it, you will hardly be able to imagine what a relief those green patches were after the endless white.
Then the sledge stopped again.
“It’s no good, your Majesty,” said the dwarf.
“We can’t sledge in this thaw.”
“Then we must walk,” said the Witch.
“We shall never overtake them walking,” growled the dwarf.
“Not with the start they’ve got.”
“Are you my councillor or my slave?” said the Witch.
“Do as you’re told.
Tie the hands of the human creature behind it and keep hold of the end of the rope.
And take your whip.
And cut the harness of the reindeer; they’ll find their own way home.”
The dwarf obeyed, and in a few minutes Edmund found himself being forced to walk as fast as he could with his hands tied behind him.
He kept on slipping in the slush and mud and wet grass, and every time he slipped the dwarf gave him a curse and sometimes a flick with the whip.
The Witch walked behind the dwarf and kept on saying,
“Faster!
Faster!”
Every moment the patches of green grew bigger and the patches of snow grew smaller.
Every moment more and more of the trees shook off their robes of snow.
Soon, wherever you looked, instead of white shapes you saw the dark green of firs or the black prickly branches of bare oaks and beeches and elms.
Then the mist turned from white to gold and presently cleared away altogether.
Shafts of delicious sunlight struck down onto the forest floor and overhead you could see a blue sky between the tree tops.
Soon there were more wonderful things happening.
Coming suddenly round a corner into a glade of silver birch trees Edmund saw the ground covered in all directions with little yellow flowers—celandines.
The noise of water grew louder.
Presently they actually crossed a stream.
Beyond it they found snowdrops growing.
“Mind your own business!” said the dwarf when he saw that Edmund had turned his head to look at them; and he gave the rope a vicious jerk.