outdistance any other horse in this country. That's where I can help you. By the way, I 
suppose you know how to ride?"
    
    "Oh yes, of course," said Shasta. "At least, I've ridden the donkey."
    
    "Ridden the what?" retorted the Horse with extreme contempt. (At least, that is what 
he meant. Actually it came out in a sort of neigh-"Ridden the wha-ha-ha-ha-ha." Talking 
horses always become more horsy in accent when they are angry.)
    
    "In other words," it continued, "you can't ride. That's a drawback. I'll have to 
teach you as we go along. If you can't ride, can you fall?"
    
    "I suppose anyone can fall," said Shasta.
    
    "1 mean can you fall and get up again without crying and mount again and fall again 
and yet not be afraid of falling?"
    
    "I-I'll try," said Shasta. "Poor little beast," said the Horse in a gentler tone. "I 
forget you're only a foal. We'll make a fine rider of you in time. And now-we mustn't 
start until those two in the but are asleep. Meantime we can make our plans. My Tarkaan 
is on his way North to the great city, to Tashbaan itself and the court of the Tisroc-"
    
    "I say," put in Shasta in rather a shocked voice, "oughtn't you to say `May he live 
for ever'?"
    
    "Why?" asked the Horse. "I'm a free Narnian. And why should I talk slaves' and fools' 
talk? I don't want him to live for ever, and I know that he's not going to live for ever 
whether I want him to or not. And I can see you're from the free North too. No more of 
this Southern jargon between you and me! And now, back to our plans. As I said, my human 
was on his way North to Tashbaan."
    
    "Does that mean we'd better go to the South?"
    
    "I think not," said the Horse. "You see, he thinks I'm dumb and witless like his 
other horses. Now if I really were, the moment I got loose I'd go back home to my stable 
and paddock; back to his palace which is two days' journey South. That's where he'll look 
for me. He'd never dream of my going on North on my own. And anyway he will probably 
think that someone in the last village who saw him ride through has followed us to here 
and stolen me."
    
    "Oh hurrah!" said Shasta. "Then we'll go North. I've been longing to go to the North 
all my life."
    
    "Of course you have," said the Horse. "That's because of the blood that's in you. I'm 
sure you're true Northern stock. But not too loud. I should think they'd be asleep soon 
now."
    
    "I'd better creep back and see," suggested Shasta.
    
    "That's a good idea," said the Horse. "But take care you're not caught."
    
    It was a good deal darker now and very silent except for the sound of the waves on 
the beach, which Shasta hardly noticed because he had been hearing it day and night as 
long as he could remember. The cottage, as he approached it, showed no light. When he 
listened at the front there was no noise. When he went round to the only window, he could 
hear, after a second or two, the familiar noise of the old fisherman's squeaky snore. It 
was funny to think that if all went well he would never hear it again. Holding his breath 
and feeling a little bit sorry, but much less sorry than he was glad, Shasta glided away 
over the grass and went to the donkey's stable, groped along to a place he knew where the 
key was hidden, opened the door and found the Horse's saddle and bridle which had been 
locked up there for the night. He bent forward and kissed the donkey's nose. "I'm sorry 
we can't take you," he said.
    
    "There you are at last," said the Horse when he got back to it. "I was beginning to 
wonder what had become of you."
    
    "I was getting your things out of the stable," replied Shasta. "And now, can you tell 
me how to put them on?"
    
    For the next few minutes Shasta was at work, very cautiously to avoid jingling, while 
the Horse said things like, "Get that girth a bit tighter," or "You'll find a buckle 
lower down," or "You'll need to shorten those stirrups a good bit." When all was finished 
it said:
    
    "Now; we've got to have reins for the look of the thing, but you won't be using them. 
Tie them to the saddle-bow: very slack so that I can do what I like with my head. And, 
remember-you are not to touch them."
    
    "What are they for, then?" asked Shasta.
    
    "Ordinarily they are for directing me," replied the Horse. "But as I intend to do all 
the directing on this journey, you'll please keep your hands to yourself. And there's 
another thing. I'm not going to have you grabbing my mane."
    
    "But I say," pleaded Shasta. "If I'm not to hold on by the reins or by your mane, 
what am I to hold on by?"
    
    "You hold on with your knees," said the Horse. "That's the secret of good riding. 
Grip my body between your knees as hard as you like; sit straight up, straight as a 
poker; keep your elbows in. And by the way, what did you do with the spurs?"
    
    "Put them on my heels, of course," said Shasta. "I do know that much."
    
    "Then you can take them off and put them in the saddlebag. We may be able to sell 
them when we get to Tashbaan. Ready? And now I think you can get up."
    
    "Ooh! You're a dreadful height," gasped Shasta after his first, and unsuccessful, 
attempt.
    
    "I'm a horse, that's all," was the reply. "Anyone would think I was a haystack from