And we can go back any minute.
Come on!' 'Besides,' said Cyril, in a low voice, 'the Psammead must know there's no danger or it wouldn't go.

It's not so over and above brave itself.
Come on!' This Jane at last consented to do.
As they got nearer to the browny fence they saw that it was a great hedge about eight feet high, made of piled-up thorn bushes.
'What's that for ?' asked Cyril.
'To keep out foes and wild beasts,' said the girl.
'I should think it ought to, too,' said he.

'Why, some of the thorns are as long as my foot.' There was an opening in the hedge, and they followed the girl through it.

A little way further on was another hedge, not so high, also of dry thorn bushes, very prickly and spiteful-looking, and within this was a sort of village of huts.
There were no gardens and no roads.

Just huts built of wood and twigs and clay, and roofed with great palm-leaves, dumped down anywhere.