“Up then，” said Digory， heaving her on to Fledge’s back and then scrambling up as quickly as he could. The horse spread its wings.
“Go then， Fools，” called the Witch. “Think of me， Boy， when you lie old and weak and dying， and remember how you threw away the chance of endless youth！ It won‘t be offered you again.”
They were already so high that they could only just hear her. Nor did the Witch waste any time gazing up at them； they saw her set off northward down the slope of the hill.
They had started early that morning and what happened in the garden had not taken very long， so that Fledge and Polly both said they would easily get back to Narnia before nightfall. Digory never spoke on the way back， and the others were shy of speaking to him. He was very sad and he wasn’t even sure all the time that he had done the right thing； but whenever he remembered the shining tears in Aslan‘s eyes he became sure.
