Wherever they went in the little town of Beruna it was the same. Most of the people fled， a few joined them. When they left the town they were a larger and a merrier company. They swept on across the level fields on the north bank， or left bank， of the river. At every farm animals came out to join them. Sad old donkeys who had never known joy grew suddenly young again； chained dogs broke their chains； horses kicked their carts to pieces and came trotting along with them.clop.clop.kicking up the mud and whinnying.
At a well in a yard they met a man who was beating a boy. The stick burst into flower in the man‘s hand. He tried to drop it， but it stuck to his hand. His arm became a branch， his body the trunk of a tree， his feet took root. The boy， who had been crying a moment before， burst out laughing and joined them.
At a little town halfway to Beaversdam， where two rivers met， they came to another school， where a tired.looking girl was teaching arithmetic to a number of boys who looked very like pigs. She looked out of the window and saw the divine revellers singing up the street and a stab of joy went through her heart. Aslan stopped right under the window and looked up at her.