“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.
