Then.all at once.whizz， and a sound rather like the stroke of a woodpecker. The children were still wondering where （ages ago） they had heard a sound just like that and why they disliked it so， when Trumpkin shouted， “Down”， at the same moment forcing Lucy （who happened to be next to him） flat down into the bracken. Peter， who had been looking up to see if he could spot a squirrel， had seen what it was.a long cruel arrow had sunk into a tree trunk just above his head. As he pulled Susan down and dropped himself， another came rasping over his shoulder and struck the ground at his side.
“Quick！ Quick！ Get back！ Crawl！” panted Trumpkin.
They turned and wriggled along uphill， under the bracken amid clouds of horribly buzzing flies. Arrows whizzed round them. One struck Susan‘s helmet with a sharp ping and glanced off. They crawled quicker. Sweat poured off them. Then they ran， stooping nearly double. The boys held their swords in their hands for fear they would trip them up.
