“Can it be made to stand up？” said the Elephant thoughtfully. She took the limp form of Uncle Andrew gently in her trunk and set him up on end： upside down， unfortunately， so that two half.sovereigns， three half. crowns， and a sixpence fell out of his pocket. But it was no use. Uncle Andrew merely collapsed again.
“There！” said several voices. “It isn‘t an animal at all. It’s not alive.”
“I tell you， it is an animal，” said the Bulldog. “Smell it for yourself.”
“Smelling isn‘t everything，” said the Elephant.
“Why，” said the Bulldog， “if a fellow can’t trust his nose， what is he to trust？”
“Well， his brains perhaps，” she replied mildly.
“I object to that remark very strongly，” said the Bulldog.
“Well， we must do something about it，” said the Elephant. “Because it may be the Neevil， and it must be shown to Aslan. What do most of us think？ Is it an animal or something of the tree kind？”
“Tree！ Tree！” said a dozen voices.
“Very well，” said the Elephant. “Then， if it‘s a tree it wantsto be planted. We must dig a hole.”
