“I shall give it a drink，” said the first voice， presumably Trufflehunter’s. A dark shape approached the bed. Caspian felt an arm slipped gently under his shoulders-if it was exactly an arm. The shape somehow seemed wrong. The face that bent towards him seemed wrong too. He got the impression that it was very hairy and very long nosed， and there were odd white patches on each side of it. “It‘s a mask of some sort，” thought Caspian. “Or perhaps I’m in a fever and imaginingit all.” A cupful of something sweet and hot was set to his lips and he drank. At that moment one of the others poked the fire. A blaze sprang up and Caspian almost screamed with the shock as the sudden light revealed the face that was looking into his own. It was not a man‘s face but a badger’s， though larger and friendlier and more intelligent than the face of any badger he had seen before. And it had certainly been talking. He saw， too， that he was on a bed of heather， in a cave. By the fire sat two little bearded men， so much wilder and shorter and hairier and thicker than Doctor Cornelius that he knew them at once for real Dwarfs， ancient Dwarfs with not a drop of human blood in their veins. And Caspian knew that he had found the Old Narnians at last. Then his head began to swim again.
In the next few days he learned to know them by names. The Badger was called Trufflehunter； he was the oldest and kindest of the three. The Dwarf who had wanted to kill Caspian was a sour Black Dwarf （that is， his hair and beard were black， and thick and hard like horsehair）. His name was Nikabrik. The other Dwarf was a Red Dwarf with hair rather like a Fox‘s and he was called Trumpkin.
“And now，” said Nikabrik on the first evening when Caspian was well enough to sit up and talk， “we still have to decide what to do with this Human. You two think you’ve done it a great kindess by not letting me kill it. But I suppose the upshot is that we have to keep it a prisoner for life. I‘m certainly not going to let it go alive-to go back to its own kind and betray us all.”
“Bulbs and bolsters. Nikabrik！” said Trumpkin. “Why need you talk so unhandsomely？ It isn’t the creature‘s fault that it bashed its head against a tree outside our hole. And I don’t think it looks like a traitor.”
“I say，” said Caspian， “you haven‘t yet found out whether I want to go back. I don’t. I want to stay with you-if you‘ll let me. I’ve been looking for people like you all my life.”
“That‘s a likely story，” growled Nikabrik. “You’re a Telmarine and a Human， aren‘t you？ Of course you want to go back to your own kind.”
“Well， even if I did， I couldn’t，” said Caspian. “I was flying for my life when I had my accident. The King wants to kill me. If you‘d killed me， you’d have done the very thing to please him.”
“Well now，” said Trufflehunter， “you don‘t say so！”
“Eh？” said Trumpkin. “What’s that？ What have you been doing， Human， to fall foul of Miraz at your age？”
“He‘s my uncle，” began Caspian， when Nikabrik jumped up with his hand on his dagger.
“There you are！” he cried. “Not only a Telmarine but close kin and heir to our greatest enemy. Are you still mad enough to let this creature live？” He would have stabbed Caspian then and there， if the Badger and Trumpkin had not got in the way and forced him back to his seat and held him down.
“Now， once and for all， Nikabrik，” said Trumpkin. “Will you contain yourself， or must Trufflehunter and I sit on your head？”
Nikabrik sulkily promised to behave， and the other two asked Caspian to tell his whole story. When he had done so there was a moment’s silence.
“This is the queerest thing I ever heard，” said Trumpkin.
“I don‘t like it，” said Nikabrik. “I didn’t know there were stories about us still told among the Humans. The less they know about us the better. That old nurse， now. She‘d better have held her tongue. And it’s all mixed up with that Tutor： a renegade Dwarf. I hate ‘em. I hate ’em worse than the Humans. You mark my words-no good will come of it.
“Don‘t you go talking about things you don’t understand， Nikabrik，” said Trufflehunter. “You Dwarfs are as forgetful and changeable as the Humans themselves. I‘m a beast， I am， and a Badger what’s more. We don‘t change. We hold on. I say great good will come of it. This is the true King of Narnia we’ve got here： a true King， coming back to true Narnia. And we beasts remember， even if Dwarfs forget， that Narnia was never right except when a son of Adam was King.”
“Whistles and whirligigs， Trufflehunter！” said Trumpkin. “You don‘t mean you want to give the country to Humans？”
“I said nothing about that，” answered the Badger. “It’s not Men‘s country （who should know that better than me？） but it’s a country for a man to be King of. We badgers have long enough memories to know that. Why， bless us all， wasn‘t the High King Peter a Man？”
“Do you believe all those old stories？” asked Trumpkin.
“I tell you， we don’t change， we beasts，” said Trufflehunter. “We don‘t forget. I believe in the High King Peter and the rest that reigned at Cair Paravel， as firmly as I believe in Aslan himself.”
“As firmly as that， I dare say，” said Trumpkin. “But who believes in Aslan nowadays？”
“I do，” said Caspian. “And if I hadn’t believed in him before， I would now. Back there among the Humans the people who laughed at Aslan would have laughed at stories about Talking Beasts and Dwarfs. Sometimes I did wonder if there really was such a person as Aslan； but then sometimes I wondered if there were really people like you. Yet there you are.”
“That‘s right，” said Trufflehunter. “You’re right， King Caspian. And as long as you will be true to Old Narnia you shall be my King， whatever they say. Long life to your Majesty.”
“You make me sick， Badger，” growled Nikabrik. “The High King Peter and the rest may have been Men， but they were a different sort of men. This is one of the cursed Telmarines. He has hunted beasts for sport. Haven‘t you， now？” he added， rounding suddenly on Caspian.
“Well， to tell you the truth， I have，” said Caspian. “But they weren’t Talking Beasts.”
“It‘s all the same thing，” said Nikabrik.