en had a cocoa-and-date breakfast. (All expeditions seem
to live mostly on cocoa, and when they come back they often write to the
cocoa makers to say how good it was and they don't know what they would
have done without it.) And the noble and devoted dogs licked and licked
and licked, and the paint began to come off the lions' legs like
anything. It was heavy work turning the lions over so as to get at the
other or unlicked side, but the expedition worked with a will, and the
lions resisted but feebly, being still asleep, and, besides, weak from
loss of paint. And the dogs had a drink given them and were patted and
praised, and set to work again. And they licked and licked for hours and
hours. And in the end all the paint was off the lions' legs, and Philip
chopped them off with the explorer's axe which that experienced
Provider, Mr. Noah's son, had thoughtfully included in the outfit of the
expedition. And as he chopped the chips flew, and Lucy picked one up,
and it was _wood_, just wood and nothing else, though when they had
tied it up it had been real writhing resisting lion-leg and no mistake.
And when all the legs were chopped off, Philip put his hand on a lion
body, and that was wood too. So the lions were dead indeed.

[Illustration: It was heavy work turning the lions over.]

'It seems a pity,' he said. 'Lions are such jolly beasts when they are
alive.'

'I never cared for lions myself,' said Polly; and Lucy said, 'Never
mind, Phil. It didn't hurt them anyway.'

And that was the first time she ever called him Phil.

'All right, Lu,' said Philip. 'It was jolly clever of you to think of it
anyhow.'

And that was the first time he ever called her Lu.

. . . . . . .

They saw the straight pale line of the sea for a long time before they
came to the place of the Dwellers by the Sea. For these people had built
their castle down on the very edge of the sea, and the Pebbly Waste rose
and rose to a mountain that hid their castle from the eyes of the
camel-riders who were now drawing near to the scene of their next deed.
The Pebbly Waste was all made of small slippery stones, and the children
understood how horrid a horse would have found it. Even the camel
went very slowly, and the dogs no longer frisked and bounded, but
went at a foot's pace with drooping ears and tails.

'I should call a halt, if I were you,' said Polly. 'We shall all be the
better for a cup of cocoa.