“Silence， silence，” said Trufflehunter. “You do not know what you are saying. She was a worse enemy than Miraz and all his race.”
“Not to Dwarfs， she wasn‘t，” said Nikabrik.
Their next visit was a pleasanter one. As they came lower down， the mountains opened out into a great glen or wooded gorge with a swift river running at the bottom. The open places near the river’s edge were a mass of foxgloves and wild roses and the air was buzzing with bees. Here Trufflehunter called again， “Glenstorm！ Glenstorm！” and after a pause Caspian heard the sound of hoofs. It grew louder till the valley trembled and at last， breaking and trampling the thickets， there came in sight the noblest creatures that Caspian had yet seen， the great Centaur Glenstorm and his three sons. His flanks were glossy chestnut and the beard that covered his broad chest was golden-red. He was a prophet and a star-gazer and knew what they had come about.
“Long live the King，” he cried. “I and my sons are ready for war. When is the battle to be joined？”
Up till now neither Caspian nor the others had really been thinking of a war. They had some vague idea， perhaps， of an occasional raid on some Human farmstead or of attacking a party of hunters， if it ventured too far into these southern wilds. But， in the main， they had thought only of living to themselves in woods and caves and building up an attempt at Old Narnia in hiding. As soon as Glenstorm had spoken everyone felt much more serious.
“Do you mean a real war to drive Miraz out of Narnia？” asked Caspian.
“What else？” said the Centaur. “Why else does your Majesty go clad in mail and girt with sword？”
“Is it possible， Glenstorm？” said the Badger.
“The time is ripe，” said Glenstorm. “I watch the skies， Badger， for it is mine to watch， as it is yours to remember. Tarva and Alambil have met in the halls of high heaven， and on earth a son of Adam has once more arisen to rule and name the creatures. The hour has struck. Our council at the Dancing Lawn must be a council of war.” He spoke in such a voice that neither Caspian nor the others hesitated for a moment： it now seemed to them quite possible that they might win a war and quite certain that they must wage one.
As it was now past the middle of the day， they rested with the Centaurs and ate such food as the centaurs provided-cakes of oaten meal， and apples， and herbs， and wine， and cheese.
The next place they were to visit was quite near at hand， but they had to go a long way round in order to avoid a region in which Men lived. It was well into the afternoon before they found themselves in level fields， warm between hedgerows. There Trufflehunter called at the mouth of a little hole in a green bank and out popped the last thing Caspian expected-a Talking Mouse. He was of course bigger than a common mouse， well over a foot high when he stood on his hind legs，and with ears nearly as long as （though broader than） a rabbit‘s. His name was Reepicheep and he was a gay and martial mouse. He wore a tiny little rapier at his side and twirled his long whiskers as if they were a moustache. “There are twelve of us， Sire，” he said with a dashing and graceful bow， “and I place all the resources of my people unreservedly at your Majesty’s disposal.” Caspian tried hard （and successfully） not to laugh， but he couldn‘t help thinking that Reepicheep and all his people could very easily be put in a washing basket and carried home on one’s back.
It would take too long to mention all the creatures whom Caspian met that day-Clodsley Shovel the Mole， the three Hardbiters （who were badgers like Trufflehunter）， Camillo the Hare， and Hogglestock the Hedgehog. They rested at last beside a well at the edge of a wide and level circle of grass， bordered with tall elms which now threw long shadows across it， for the sun was setting， the daisies closing， and therooks flying home to bed. Here they supped on food they had brought with them and Trumpkin lit his pipe （Nikabrik was not a smoker）.
“Now，” said the Badger， “if only we could wake the spirits of these trees and this well， we should have done a good day‘s work.”
“Can’t we？” said Caspian.
“No，” said Trufflehunter. “We have no power over them. Since the Humans came into the land， felling forests and defiling streams， the Dryads and Naiads have sunk into a deep sleep. Who knows if ever they will stir again？ And that is a great loss to our side. The Telmarines are horribly afraid of the woods， and once the Trees moved in anger， our enemies would go mad with fright and be chased out of Narnia as quick as their legs could carry them.”
“What imaginations you Animals have！” said Trumpkin， who didn‘t believe in such things. “But why stop at Trees and Waters？ Wouldn’t it be even nicer if the stones started throwing themselves at old Miraz？”
The Badger only grunted at this， and after that there was such a silence that Caspian had nearly dropped off to sleep when he thought he heard a faint musical sound from the depth of the woods at his back. Then he thought it was only a dream and turned over again； but as soon as his ear touched the ground he felt or heard （it was hard to tell which） a faint beating or drumming. He raised his head. The beating noise at once became fainter， but the music returned， clearer this time. It was like flutes. He saw that Trufflehunter was sitting up staring into the wood. The moon was bright； Caspian had been asleep longer than he thought. Nearer and nearer came the music， a tune wild and yet dreamy， and the noise of many light feet， till at last， out from the wood into the moonlight， came dancing shapes such as Caspian had been thinking of all his life. They were not much taller than dwarfs， but far slighter and more graceful. Their curly heads had little horns， the upper part of their bodies gleamed naked in the pale light， but their legs and feet were those of goats.