The Fight At The Lamp post
“Ho！ Hempress， are you？ We‘ll see about that，” said a voice. Then another voice said， “Three cheers for the Hempress of Colney ’Atch” and quite a number joined in. A flush of colour came into the Witch‘s face and she bowed ever so slightly. But the cheers died away into roars of laughter and she saw that they had only been making fun of her. A change came over her expression and she changed the knife to her left hand. Then， without warning， she did a thing that was dreadful to see. Lightly， easily， as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world， she stretched up her right arm and wrenched off one of the cross.bars of the lamp.post. If she had lost some magical powers in our world， she had not lost her strength； she could break an iron bar as if it were a stick of barley.sugar. She tossed her new weapon up in the air， caught it again， brandished it， and urged the horse forward.
“Now’s my chance，” thought Digory. He darted between the horse and the railings and began going forward. If only the brute would stay still for a moment he might catch the Witch‘s heel. As he rushed， he heard a sickening crash and a thud. The Witch had brought the bar down on the chief policeman’s helmet： the man fell like a ninepin.
“Quick， Digory. This must be stopped，” said a voice beside him. It was Polly， who had rushed down the moment she was allowed out of bed.
“You are a brick，” said Digory. “Hold on to me tight. You‘d have to manage the ring. Yellow， remember. And don’t put it on till I shout.”
There was a second crash and another policeman crumpled up. There came an angry roar from the crowd： “Pull her down. Get a few paving.stones. Call out the Military.” But most of them were getting as far away as they could. The Cabby， however， obviously the bravest as well as the kindest person present， was keeping close to the horse， dodging this way and that to avoid the bar， but still trying to catch Strawberry‘s head.
The crowd booed and bellowed again. A stone whistled over Digory’s head. Then came the voice of the Witch， clear like a great bell， and sounding as if， for once， she were almost happy.
“Scum！ You shall pay dearly for this when I have conquered your world. Not one stone of your city will be left. I will make it as Charn， as Felinda， as Sorlois， as Bramandin.”
Digory as last caught her ankle. She kicked back with her heel and hit him in the mouth. In his pain he lost hold. His lip was cut and his mouth full of blood. From somewhere very close by came the voice of Uncle Andrew in a sort of trembling scream. “Madam.my dear young lady.for heaven‘s sake.compose yourself.” Digory made a second grab at her heel， and was again shaken off. More men were knocked down by the iron bar. He made a third grab： caught the heel： held on like grim death， shouting to Polly “Go！” then.Oh， thank goodness. The angry， frightened faces had vanished. The angry， frightened voices were silenced. All except Uncle Andrew’s. Close beside Digory in the darkness， it was wailing on： “Oh， oh， is this delirium？ Is it the end？ I can‘t bear it. It’s not fair. I never meant to be a Magician. It‘s all a misunderstanding. It’s all my godmother‘s fault； I must protest against this. In my state of health too. A very old Dorsetshire family.”
“Bother！” thought Digory. “We didn’t want to bring him along. My hat， what a picnic. Are you there， Polly？”
“Yes， I‘m here. Don’t keep on shoving.”
“I‘m not，” began Digory， but before he could say anything more，their heads came out into the warm， green sunshine of the wood. And as they stepped out of the pool Polly cried out：
“Oh look！ We’ve brought the old horse with us too. And Mr Ketterley. And the Cabby. This is a pretty kettle of fish！”
As soon as the Witch saw that she was once more in the wood she turned pale and bent down till her face touched the mane of the horse. You could see she felt deadly sick. Uncle Andrew was shivering. But Strawberry， the horse， shook his head， gave a cheerful whinny， and seemed to feel better. He became quiet for the first time since Digory had seen him. His ears， which had been laid flat back on his skull， came into their proper position， and the fire went out of his eyes.
“That‘s right， old boy，” said the Cabby， slapping Strawberry’s neck. “That‘s better. Take it easy.”
Strawberry did the most natural thing in the world. Being very thirsty （and no wonder） he walked slowly across to the nearest pool and stepped into it to have a drink. Digory was still holding the Witch’s heel and Polly was holding Digory‘s hand. One of the Cabby’s hands was on Strawberry； and Uncle Andrew， still very shaky， had just grabbed on the Cabby‘s other hand.
“Quick，” said Polly， with a look at Digory. “Greens！”
So the horse never got his drink. Instead， the whole party found themselves sinking into darkness. Strawberry neighed； Uncle Andrew whimpered. Digory said， “That was a bit of luck.”
There was a short pause. Then Polly said， “Oughtn’t we to be nearly there now？”
“We do seem to be somewhere，” said Digory. “At least I‘m standing on something solid.”
“Why， so am I， now that I come to think of it，” said Polly. “But why’s it so dark？ I say， do you think we got into the wrong Pool？”
“Perhaps this is Charn，” said Digory. “Only we‘ve got back in the middle of the night.”
“This is not Charn，” came the Witch’s voice. “This is an empty world. This is Nothing.”
And really it was uncommonly like Nothing. There were no stars.
It was so dark that they couldn‘t see one another at all and it made no difference whether you kept your eyes shut or open. Under their feet there was a cool， flat something which might have been earth， and was certainly not grass or wood. The air was cold and dry and there was no wind.
“My doom has come upon me，” said the Witch in a voice of horrible calmness.
“Oh don’t say that，” babbled Uncle Andrew. “My dear young lady， pray don‘t say such things. It can’t be as bad as that. Ah.Cabman. my good man.you don‘t happen to have a flask about you？ A drop of spirits is just what I need.”