“Quick！ Before she drifts！” shouted Peter. He and Susan， fully dressed as they were， plunged in， and before the water was up to their shoulders their hands were on the side of the boat. In a few seconds they had hauled her to the bank and lifted the Dwarf out， and Edmund was busily engaged in cutting his bonds with the pocket knife. （Peter’s sword would have been sharper， but a sword is very inconvenient for this sort of work because you can‘t hold it anywhere lower than the hilt.） When at last the Dwarf was free， he sat up， rubbed his arms and legs， and exclaimed：
“Well， whatever they say， you don’t feel like ghosts.”
Like most Dwarfs he was very stocky and deep.chested. He would have been about three feet high if he had been standing up， and an immense beard and whiskers of coarse red hair left little of his face to be seen except a beak.like nose and twinkling black eyes.
“Anyway，” he continued， “ghosts or not， you‘ve saved my life and I’m extremely obliged to you.”
“But why should we be ghosts？” asked Lucy.
