Up stairs and down stairs and in my lady’s chamber! Leave no corner un-searched.
You never know where some poor prisoner may be concealed.”
And into the interior they all rushed and for several minutes the whole of that dark, horrible, fusty old castle echoed with the opening of windows and with everyone’s voices crying out at once,
“Don’t forget the dungeons—Give us a hand with this door!—Here’s another little winding stair—Oh! I say. Here’s a poor kangaroo. Call Aslan—Phew!
How it smells in here—Look out for trap-doors—Up here!
There are a whole lot more on the landing!”
But the best of all was when Lucy came rushing upstairs shouting out,
“Aslan!
Aslan!
I’ve found Mr. Tumnus.
Oh, do come quick.”
A moment later Lucy and the little Faun were holding each other by both hands and dancing round and round for joy.
The little chap was none the worse for having been a statue and was of course very interested in all she had to tell him.
But at last the ransacking of the Witch’s fortress was ended.
The whole castle stood empty with every door and window open and the light and the sweet spring air flooding in to all the dark and evil places which needed them so badly.
The whole crowd of liberated statues surged back into the courtyard.
And it was then that someone (Tumnus, I think) first said,
“But how are we going to get out?” for Aslan had got in by a jump and the gates were still locked.
“That’ll be all right,” said Aslan; and then, rising on his hind-legs, he bawled up at the Giant. “Hi!
You up there,” he roared.
“What’s your name?”
“Giant Rumblebuffin, if it please your honor,” said the Giant, once more touching his cap.
“Well then, Giant Rumblebuffin,” said Aslan, “just let us out of this, will you?”
“Certainly, your honor.
It will be a pleasure,” said Giant Rumblebuffin.
“Stand well away from the gates, all you little ‘uns.”
Then he strode to the gate himself and bang—bang—bang—went his huge club.
The gates creaked at the first blow, cracked at the second, and shivered at the third.
Then he tackled the towers on each side of them and after a few minutes of crashing and thudding both the towers and a good bit of the wall on each side went thundering down in a mass of hopeless rubble; and when the dust cleared it was odd, standing in that dry, grim, stony yard, to see through the gap all the grass and waving trees and sparkling streams of the forest, and the blue hills beyond that and beyond them the sky.
“Blowed if I ain’t all in a muck sweat,” said the Giant, puffing like the largest railway engine. “Comes of being out of condition.
I suppose neither of you young ladies has such a thing as a pocket-handkerchee about you?”
“Yes, I have,” said Lucy, standing on tip-toes and holding her handkerchief up as far as she could reach.
“Thank you, Missie,” said Giant Rumblebuffin, stooping down.
Next moment Lucy got rather a fright for she found herself caught up in mid-air between the Giant’s finger and thumb.
But just as she was getting near his face he suddenly started and then put her gently back on the ground muttering,
“Bless me! I’ve picked up the little girl instead. I beg your pardon, Missie, I thought you was the handkerchee!”
“No, no,” said Lucy laughing, “here it is!”
This time he managed to get it but it was only about the same size to him that a saccharine tablet would be to you, so that when she saw him solemnly rubbing it to and fro across his great red face, she said,
“I’m afraid it’s not much use to you, Mr. Rumblebuffin.”
“Not at all. Not at all,” said the giant politely.
“Never met a nicer handkerchee.
So fine, so handy.
So—I don’t know how to describe it.”
“What a nice giant he is!” said Lucy to Mr. Tumnus.
“Oh yes,” replied the Faun.
“All the Buffins always were.
One of the most respected of all the giant families in Narnia.
Not very clever, perhaps (I never knew a giant that was), but an old family.
With traditions, you know.
If he’d been the other sort she’d never have turned him into stone.”