They were standing on the edge of a steep， narrow valley at the bottom of which ran-at least it would have been running if it hadn‘t been frozen-a fairly large river. Just below them a dam had been built across this river， and when they saw it everyone suddenly remembered that of course beavers are always making dams and felt quite sure that Mr Beaver had made this one. They also noticed that he now had a sort of modest expression on his face-the sort of look people have when you are visiting a garden they’ve made or reading a story they‘ve written. So it was only common politeness when Susan said， “What a lovely dam！” And Mr Beaver didn’t say， “Hush” this time but， “Merely a trifle！ Merely a trifle！ And it isn‘t really finished！”
Above the dam there was what ought to have been a deep pool but was now， of course， a level floor of dark green ice. And below the dam， much lower down， was more ice， but instead of being smooth this was all frozen into the foamy and wavy shapes in which the water had beenrushing along at the very moment when the frost came. And where the water had been trickling over and spurting through the dam there was now a glittering wall of icicles， as if the side of the dam had been covered all over with flowers and wreaths and festoons of the purest sugar. And out in the middle， and partly on top of the dam was a funny little house shaped rather like an enormous beehive， and from a hole in the roof smoke was going up， so that when you saw it （especially if you were hungry） you at once thought of cooking and became hungrier than you were before.
That was what the others chiefly noticed， but Edmund noticed something else. A little lower down the river there was another small river which came down another small valley to join it. And looking up that valley， Edmund could see two small hills， and he was almost sure they were the two hills which the White Witch had pointed out to him when he parted from her at the lamp-post that other day.
And then between them， he thought， must be her palace， only a mileoff or less. And he thought about Turkish Delight and about being a King （“And I wonder how Peter will like that？” he asked himself） and horrible ideas came into his head.
“Here we are，” said Mr Beaver， “and it looks as if Mrs Beaver is expecting us. I’ll lead the way. But be careful and don‘t slip.”
The top of the dam was wide enough to walk on， though not （for humans） a very nice place to walk because it was covered with ice， and though the frozen pool was level with it on one side， there was a nasty drop to the lower river on the other. Along this route Mr Beaver led them in single file right out to the middle where they could look a long way up the river and a long way down it. And when they had reached the middle they were at the door of the house.
“Here we are， Mrs Beaver，” said Mr Beaver， “I’ve found them. Here are the Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve‘-and they all went in.
The first thing Lucy noticed as she went in was a burring sound，and the first thing she saw was a kind-looking old she-beaver sitting in the corner with a thread in her mouth working busily at her sewingmachine， and it was from it that the sound came. She stopped her work and got up as soon as the children came in.
“So you’ve come at last！” she said， holding out both her wrinkled old paws. “At last！ To think that ever I should live to see this day！ The potatoes are on boiling and the kettle‘s singing and I daresay， Mr Beaver， you’ll get us some fish.”
“That I will，” said Mr Beaver， and he went out of the house （Peter went with him）， and across the ice of the deep pool to where he had a little hole in the ice which he kept open every day with his hatchet. They took a pail with them. Mr Beaver sat down quietly at the edge of the hole （he didn‘t seem to mind it being so chilly）， looked hard into it， then suddenly shot in his paw， and before you could say Jack Robinson had whisked out a beautiful trout. Then he did it all over again until they had a fine catch of fish.
Meanwhile the girls were helping Mrs Beaver to fill the kettle and lay the table and cut the bread and put the plates in the oven to heat and draw a huge jug of beer for Mr Beaver from a barrel which stood in one corner of the house， and to put on the frying-pan and get the dripping hot. Lucy thought the Beavers had a very snug little home though it was not at all like Mr Tumnus’s cave. There were no books or pictures， and instead of beds there were bunks， like on board ship，built into the wall. And there were hams and strings of onions hanging from the roof， and against the walls were gumboots and oilskins and hatchets and pairs of shears and spades and trowels and things for carrying mortar in and fishing-rods and fishing-nets and sacks. And the cloth on the table， though very clean， was very rough.
