“No， but people will get there，” said Digory. “And then they‘ll have histories， you know.”
“Well， it’s a jolly good thing they haven‘t now，” said Polly. “Because nobody can be made to learn it. Battles and dates and all that rot.”
Now they were over the top of the cliffs and in a few minutes the valley land of Narnia had sunk out of sight behind them. They were flying over a wild country of steep hills and dark forests， still following the course of the river. The really big mountains loomed ahead. But the sun was now in the travellers’ eyes and they couldn‘t see things very clearly in that direction. For the sun sank lower and lower till the western sky was all like one great furnace full of melted gold； and it set at last behind a jagged peak which stood up against the brightness as sharp and flat as if it were cut out of cardboard.
“It’s none too warm up here，” said Polly.
“And my wings are beginning to ache，” said Fledge. “There‘s no sign of the valley with a Lake in it， like what Aslan said. What about coming down and looking out for a decent spot to spend the night in？ We shan’t reach that place tonight.”
“Yes， and surely it‘s about time for supper？” said Digory.
