The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

"Oh, bother his ideas!" said Scrubb. "He's always expecting the worst, and he's always
wrong. Let's think about those Gentle Giants and get on to Harfang as quickly as we can.
I wish I knew how far it is."
And now they nearly had the first of those quarrels which Puddleglum had foretold: not
that Jill and Scrubb hadn't been sparring and snapping at each other a good deal before,
but this was the first really serious disagreement. Puddleglum didn't want them to go to
Harfang at all. He said that he didn't know what a giant's idea of being "gentle" might be,
and that, anyway, Aslan's signs had said nothing about staying with giants, gentle or
otherwise. The children, on the other hand, who were sick of wind and rain, and skinny
fowl roasted over campfires, and hard, cold earth to sleep on, were absolutely dead set to
visit the Gentle Giants. In the end, Puddleglum agreed to do so, but only on one
condition. The others must give an absolute promise that, unless he gave them leave, they
would not tell the Gentle Giants that they came from Narnia or that they were looking for
Prince Rilian. And they gave him this promise, and went on.
After that talk with the Lady things got worse in two different ways. In the first place the
country was much harder. The road led through endless, narrow valleys down which a
cruel north wind was always blowing in their faces. There was nothing that could be used
for firewood, and there were no nice little hollows to camp in, as there had been on the
moor. And the ground was all stony, and made your feet sore by day and every bit of you
sore by night.
In the second place, whatever the Lady had intended by telling them about Harfang, the
actual effect on the children was a bad one. They could think about nothing but beds and
baths and hot meals and how lovely it would be to get indoors. They never talked about
Aslan, or even about the lost prince, now. And Jill gave up her habit of repeating the
signs over to herself every night and morning. She said to herself, at first, that she was
too tired, but she soon forgot all about it. And though you might have expected that the
idea of having a good time at Harfang would have made them more cheerful, it really
made them more sorry for themselves and more grumpy and snappy with each other and
with Puddleglum.
At last they came one afternoon to a place where the gorge in which they were travelling
widened out and dark fir woods rose on either side. They looked ahead and saw that they
had come through the mountains. Before them lay a desolate, rocky plain: beyond it,
further mountains capped with snow. But between them and those further mountains rose
a low hill with an irregular flattish top.
"Look! Look!" cried Jill, and pointed across the plain; and there, through the gathering
dusk, from beyond the flat hill, everyone saw lights. Lights! Not moonlight, nor fires, but
a homely cheering row of lighted windows. If you have never been in the wild
wilderness, day and night, for weeks, you will hardly understand how they felt.
"Harfang!" cried Scrubb and Jill in glad, excited voices; and "Harfang," repeated
Puddleglum in a dull, gloomy voice. But he added, "Hullo! Wild geese!" and had the bow