“That‘s all right， lass.I mean your Majesty，” said Trumpkin with a chuckle. “A jibe won’t raise a blister.” （And after that they often called him the DLF till they‘d almost forgotten what it meant.）“As I was saying，” continued Edmund， “we needn’t go that way. Why shouldn‘t we row a little south till we come to Glasswater Creek and row up it？ That brings us up behind the Hill of the Stone Table， and we’ll be safe while we‘re at sea. If we start at once， we can be at the head of Glasswater before dark， get a few hours’ sleep， and be with Caspian pretty early tomorrow.”
“What a thing it is to know the coast，” said Trumpkin. “None of us know anything about Glasswater.”
“What about food？” asked Susan.
“Oh， we‘ll have to do with apples，” said Lucy. “Do let’s get on. We‘ve done nothing yet， and we’ve been here nearly two days.”
“And anyway， no one‘s going to have my hat for afishbasket again，” said Edmund.
