Then Eustace came to his senses and saw the Calormenes scampering back to their friends. But not all of them. Two lay dead， pierced by Jewel’s horn， one by Tirian‘s sword. The Fox lay dead at his own feet， and he wondered if it was he who had killed it. The Bull also was down， shot through the eye by an arrow from Jill and gashed in his side by the Boar’s tusk. But the Narnian side had its losses too. Three dogs were killed and a fourth was hobbling behind the line on three legs and whimpering. The Bear lay on the ground， moving feebly. Then it mumbled in its throaty voice， bewildered to the last， “I-I don‘tunderstand，” laid its big head down on the grass as quietly as a childgoing to sleep， and never moved again.
In fact， the first attack had failed. Eustace didn’t seem able to be glad about it： he was so terribly thirsty and his arm ached so.
As the defeated Calormenes went back to their commander， the Dwarfs began jeering at them.
“Had enough， Darkies？” they yelled. “Don‘t you like it？ Why doesn’t your great Tarkaan go and fight himself instead of sending you to be killed？ Poor Darkies！”
“Dwarfs，” cried Tirian. “Come here and use your swords， not your tongues. There is still time. Dwarfs of Narnia！ You can fight well， I know. Come back to your allegiance.”
“Yah！” sneered the Dwarfs. “Not likely. You‘re just as big humbugs as the other lot. We don’t want any Kings. The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs. Boo！”
Then the Drum began： not a Dwarf drum this time， but a big bull‘s hide Calormene drum. The children from the very first hated the sound. Boom-boom-ba-ba-boom it went. But they would have hated it far worse if they had known what it meant. Tirian did. It meant that there were other Calormene troops somewhere near and that Rishda Tarkaan was calling them to his aid. Tirian and Jewel looked at one another sadly.
They had just begun to hope that they might win that night： but it would be all over with them if new enemies appeared.
Tirian gazed despairingly round. Several Narnians were standing with the Calormenes， whether through treachery or in honest fear of “Tashlan”. Others were sitting still， staring， not likely to join either side. But there were fewer animals now： the crowd was much smaller. Clearly， several of them had just crept quietly away during the fighting.
Boom-boom-ba-ba-boom went the horrible drum. Then another sound began to mix with it. “Listen！” said Jewel： and then “Look！” said Farsight. A moment later there was no doubt what it was. With a thunder of hoofs， with tossing heads， widened nostrils， and waving manes， over a score of Talking Horses of Narnia came charging up the hill. The gnawers and nibblers had done their work.
Poggin the Dwarf and the children opened their mouths to cheer but that cheer never came. Suddenly the air was full of the sound of twanging bow-strings and hissing arrows. It was the Dwarfs who were shooting and-for a moment Jill could hardly believe her eyes-they were shooting the Horses. Dwarfs are deadly archers. Horse after horse rolled over. Not one of those noble Beasts ever reached the King.
“Little swine，” shrieked Eustace， dancing in his rage. “Dirty， filthy， treacherous little brutes.”
Even Jewel said， “Shall I run after those Dwarfs， Sire， and spit ten of them on my horn at each plunge？”
But Tirian with his face as stern as stone， said， “Stand fast， Jewel. If you must weep， sweetheart （this was to Jill）， turn your face aside and see you wet not your bow-string. And peace， Eustace. Do not scold， like a kitchen-girl. No warrior scolds. Courteous words or else hard knocks are his only language.”
But the Dwarfs jeered back at Eustace. “That was a surprise for you， little boy， eh？ Thought we were on your side， did you？ No fear. We don’t want any Talking Horses. We don‘t want you to win any more than the other gang. You can’t take us in. The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs.”
Rishda Tarkaan was still talking to his men， doubtless making arrangements for the next attack and probably wishing he had sent his whole force into the first. The drum boomed on. Then， to their horror， Tirian and his friends heard， far fainter as if from a long way off， an answering drum. Another body of Calormenes had heard Rishda‘s signal and were coming to support him. You would not have known from Tirian’s face that he had now given up all hope.
“Listen，” he whispered in a matter-of-fact voice， “we must attack now， before yonder miscreants are strengthened by their friends.”
“Bethink you， Sire，” said Poggin， “that here we have the good wooden wall of the stable at our backs. If we advance， shall we not be encircled and get sword-points between our shoulders？”
“I would say as you do， Dwarf，” said Tirian. “Were it not their veryplan to force us into the Stable？ The further we are from its deadly door， the better.”
“The King is right，” said Farsight. “Away from this accursed stable， and whatever goblin lives inside it， at all costs.”
“Yes， do let‘s，” said Eustace. “I’m coming to hate the very sight of it.”
“Good，” said Tirian. “Now look yonder to our left. You see a great rock that gleams white like marble in the firelight. First we will fall upon those Calormenes. You， maiden， shall move out on our left and shoot as fast as ever you may into their ranks： and you， Eagle， fly at their faces from the right. Meanwhile we others will be charging them. When we are so close， Jill， that you can no longer shoot at them for fear of striking us， go back to the white rock and wait. You others， keep your ears wide even in the fighting. We must put them to flight in a few minutes or else not at all， for we are fewer than they. As soon as I call Back， then rush to join Jill at the white rock， where we shall have protection behind us and can breathe awhile. Now， be off， Jill.”
Feeling terribly alone， Jill ran out about twenty feet， put her right leg back and her left leg forward， and set an arrow to her string. She wished her hands were not shaking so.