You for taking it, and me for knowing that there
was such a thing. Oh, woe--woe! why did you ever come here?'

'Don't be frightened,' said Cyril. 'They shan't know. Jane, don't you
be such a little jack-ape again--that's all. You see what will happen if
you do. Now, tell me--' He turned to the girl, but before he had time to
speak the question there was a loud shout, and a man bounded in through
the opening in the thorn-hedge.

'Many foes are upon us!' he cried. 'Make ready the defences!'

His breath only served for that, and he lay panting on the ground. 'Oh,
DO let's go home!' said Jane. 'Look here--I don't care--I WILL!'

She held up the charm. Fortunately all the strange, fair people were too
busy to notice HER. She held up the charm. And nothing happened.

'You haven't said the word of power,' said Anthea.

Jane hastily said it--and still nothing happened.

'Hold it up towards the East, you silly!' said Robert.

'Which IS the East?' said Jane, dancing about in her agony of terror.

Nobody knew. So they opened the fish-bag to ask the Psammead.

And the bag had only a waterproof sheet in it.

The Psammead was gone.

'Hide the sacred thing! Hide it! Hide it!' whispered the girl.

Cyril shrugged his shoulders, and tried to look as brave as he knew he
ought to feel.

'Hide it up, Pussy,' he said. 'We are in for it now. We've just got to
stay and see it out.'

CHAPTER 5. THE FIGHT IN THE VILLAGE

Here was a horrible position! Four English children, whose proper date
was A.D. 1905, and whose proper address was London, set down in Egypt in
the year 6000 B.C. with no means whatever of getting back into their own
time and place. They could not find the East, and the sun was of no use
at the moment, because some officious person had once explained to Cyril
that the sun did not really set in the West at all--nor rise in the East
either, for the matter of that.

The Psammead had crept out of the bass-bag when they were not looking
and had basely deserted them.

An enemy was approaching. There would be a fight. People get killed
in fights, and the idea of taking part in a fight was one that did not
appeal to the children.

The man who had brought the news of the enemy still lay panting on the
sand. His tongue was hanging out, long and red, like a dog's. The
people of the village were hurriedly filling the gaps in the fence with
thorn-bushes from the heap that seemed to have been piled there
ready for