Ten points to Caleb Cook for correctly identifying the source of the muck sweat quote: “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” by C.S. Lewis.
“But how are we going to get out?” for Aslan had got in by a jump and the gates were still locked.
“That’ll be all right,” said Aslan; and then, rising on his hind-legs, he bawled up at the Giant. “Hi! You up there,” he roared. “What’s your name?”
“Giant Rumblebuffin, if it please your honour,” said the Giant, once more touching his cap.
“Well then, Giant Rumblebuffin,” said Aslan, “just let us out of this, will you?”
“Certainly, your honour. It will be a pleasure,” said Giant Rumblebuffin. “Stand well away from the gates, all you little ‘uns.” Then he strode to the gate himself and bang – bang – bang – went his huge club. The gates creaked at the first blow, cracked at the second, and shivered at the third. Then he tackled the towers on each side of them and after a few minutes of crashing and thudding both the towers and a good bit of the wall on each side went thundering down in a mass of hopeless rubble; and when the dust cleared it was odd, standing in that dry, grim, stony yard, to see through the gap all the grass and waving trees and sparkling streams of the forest, and the blue hills beyond that and beyond them the sky.
“Blowed if I ain’t all in a muck sweat,” said the Giant, puffing like the largest railway engine. “Comes of being out of condition. I suppose neither of you young ladies has such a thing as a pocket-handkerchee about you?”
“Yes, I have,” said Lucy, standing on tip-toes and holding her handkerchief up as far as she could reach.
“Thank you, Missie,” said Giant Rumblebuffin, stooping down. Next moment Lucy got rather a fright for she found herself caught up in mid-air between the Giant’s finger and thumb. But just as she was getting near his face he suddenly started and then put her gently back on the ground muttering, “Bless me! I’ve picked up the little girl instead. I beg your pardon, Missie, I thought you was the handkerchee!”
“No, no,” said Lucy laughing, “here it is!” This time he managed to get it but it was only about the same size to him that a saccharine tablet would be to you, so that when she saw him solemnly rubbing it to and fro across his great red face, she said, “I’m afraid it’s not much use to you, Mr Rumblebuffin.”
“Not at all. Not at all,” said the giant politely. “Never met a nicer handkerchee. So fine, so handy. So – I don’t know how to describe it.”