"Yes, I have. I can't get it down at all. You couldn't either if you were me."
    
    "You're rum little creatures, you humans," remarked Bree.
    
    When Shasta had finished his breakfast (which was by far the nicest he had ever 
eaten), Bree said, "I think I'll have a nice roll before we put on that saddle again." 
And he proceeded to do so. "That's good. That's very good," he said, rubbing his back on 
the turf and waving all four legs in the air. "You ought to have one too, Shasta," he 
snorted. "It's most refreshing."
    
    But Shasta burst out laughing and said,"You do look funny when you're on your back!"
    
    "I look nothing of the sort," said Bree. But then suddenly he rolled round on his 
side, raised his head and looked hard at Shasta, blowing a little.
    
    "Does it really look funny?" he asked in an anxious voice.
    
    "Yes, it does," replied Shasta. "But what does it matter?"
    
    "You don't think, do you," said Bree, "that it might be a thing talking horses never 
do-a silly, clownish trick I've learned from the dumb ones? It would be dreadful to find, 
when I get back to Narnia, that I've picked up a lot of low, bad habits. What do you 
think, Shasta? Honestly, now. Don't spare my feelings. Should you think the real, free 
horses-the talking kind-do roll?"
    
    "How should I know? Anyway I don't think I should bother about it if I were you. 
We've got to get there first. Do you know the way?"
    
    "I know my way to Tashbaan. After that comes the desert. Oh, we'll manage the desert 
somehow, never fear. Why, we'll be in sight of the Northern mountains then. Think of it! 
To Narnia and the North! Nothing will stop us then. But I'd be glad to be past Tashbaan. 
You and I are safer away from cities."
    
    "Can't we avoid it?"
    
    "Not without going along way inland, and that would take us into cultivated land and 
main roads; and I wouldn't know the way. No, we'll just have to creep along the coast. Up 
here on the downs we'll meet nothing but sheep and rabbits and gulls and a few shepherds. 
And by the way, what about starting?"
    
    Shasta's legs ached terribly as he saddled Bree and climbed into the saddle, but the 
Horse was kindly to him and went at a soft pace all afternoon. When evening twilight came 
they dropped by steep tracks into a valley and found a village. Before they got into it 
Shasta dismounted and entered it on foot to buy a loaf and some onions and radishes. The 
Horse trotted round by the fields in the dusk and met Shasta at the far side. This became 
their regular plan every second night.
    
    These were great days for Shasta, and every day better than the last as his muscles 
hardened and he fell less often. Even at the end of his training Bree still said he sat 
like a bag of flour in the saddle. "And even if it was safe, young 'un, I'd be ashamed to 
be seen with you on the main road." But in spite of his rude words Bree was a patient 
teacher. No one can teach riding so well as a horse. Shasta learned to trot, to canter, 
to jump, and to keep his seat even when Bree pulled up suddenly or swung unexpectedly to 
the left or the right-which, as Bree told him, was a thing you might have to do at any 
moment in a battle. And then of course Shasta begged to be told of the battles and wars 
in which Bree had carried the Tarkaan. And Bree would tell of forced marches and the 
fording of swift rivers, of charges and of fierce fights between cavalry and cavalry when 
the war horses fought as well as the men, being all fierce stallions, trained to bite and 
kick, and to rear at the right moment so that the horse's weight as well as the rider's 
would come down on a enemy's crest in the stroke of sword or battleaxe. But Bree did not 
want to talk about the wars as often as Shasta wanted to hear about them. "Don't speak of 
them, youngster," he would say. "They were only the Tisroc's wars and I fought in them as 
a slave and a dumb beast. Give me the Narnian wars where I shall fight as a free Horse 
among my own people! Those will be wars worth talking about. Narnia and the North! 
Bra-ha-ha! Broo hoo!"
    
    Shasta soon learned, when he heard Bree talking like that, to prepare for a gallop.
    
    After they had travelled on for weeks and weeks past more bays and headlands and 
rivers and villages than Shasta could remember, there came a moonlit night when they 
started their journey at evening, having slept during the day. They had left the downs 
behind them and were crossing a wide plain with a forest about half a mile away on their 
left. The sea, hidden by low sandhills, was about the same distance on their right. They 
had jogged along for about an hour, sometimes trotting and sometimes walking, when Bree 
suddenly stopped.
    
    "What's up?" said Shasta.
    
    "S-s-ssh!" said Bree, craning his neck round and twitching his ears. "Did you hear 
something? Listen."
    
    "It sounds like another horse-between us and the wood," said Shasta after he had 
listened for about a minute.
    
    "It is another horse," said Bree. "And that's what I don't like."
    
    "Isn't it probably just a farmer riding home late?" said Shasta with a yawn.
    
    "Don't tell me!" said Bree. "That's not a farmer's riding. Nor a farmer's horse 
either. Can't you tell by the sound? That's quality, that horse is. And it's being ridden 
by a real horseman. I tell you what it is, Shasta. There's a Tarkaan under the edge of 
that wood. Not on his war horse-it's too light for that. On a fine blood mare, I should 
say."
    
    "Well, it's stopped now, whatever it is," said Shasta.
    
    "You're right," said Bree. "And why should he stop just when we do? Shasta, my boy, I 
do believe there's someone shadowing us at last."
    
    "What shall we do?" said Shasta in a lower whisper than before. "Do you think he can