At the castle gate Caspian‘s trumpeter blew a blast and ried， “Open for the King of Narnia， come to visit his usty and well.beloved servant the governor of the Lone lands.” In those days everything in the islands was done a slovenly， slouching manner. Only the little postern pened， and out came a tousled fellow with a dirty old at on his head instead of a helmet， and a rusty old pike his hand. He blinked at the flashing figures before him. Carn.seez.fishansy，“ he mumbled （which was his way f saying， “You can’t see his Sufficiency”）. “No interviews ithout ‘pointments ’cept ‘tween nine ’n‘ ten p.m. secondaturday every month.”
“Uncover before Narnia， you dog，” thundered the Lord ern， and dealt him a rap with his gauntleted hand which ent his hat flying from his head.
