“Why， who are you afraid of ？” said Peter. “There‘s no one here but ourselves.”
“There are the trees，” said the Beaver. “They’re always listening. Most of them are on our side， but there are treesthat would betray us to her； you know who I mean，” and it nodded its head several times.
“If it comes to talking about sides，” said Edmund， “howdo we know you‘re a friend？”
“Not meaning to be rude， Mr Beaver，” added Peter， “but you see， we’re strangers.”
“Quite right， quite right，” said the Beaver. “Here is my token.” With these words it held up to them a little white object. They all looked at it in surprise， till suddenly Lucy said， “Oh， of course. It‘s my handkerchief.the one I gave to poor Mr Tumnus.”
“That’s right，” said the Beaver. “Poor fellow， he got wind of the arrest before it actually happened and handed this over to me. He said that if anything happened to him I must meet you here and take you on to.” Here the Beaver‘s voice sank into silence and it gave one or two very mysterious nods. Then， signalling to the children to stand as close around it as they possibly could， so that their faces were actually tickled by its whiskers， it added in a low whisper.
