LITMIR.BIZ

      Shasta now gave himself up for lost and began to wonder whether lions killed you quickly or played with you as a cat plays with a mouse and how much it would hurt. At the same time (one sometimes does this at the most frightful moments) he noticed everything. He saw that the other rider was a very small, slender person, mail-clad (the moon shone on the mail) and riding magnificently. He had no beard.

      Something flat and shining was spread out before them. Before Shasta had time even to guess what it was there was a great splash and he found his mouth half full of salt water. The shining thing had been a long inlet of the sea. Both horses were swimming and the water was up to Shasta’s knees. There was an angry roaring behind them and, looking back, Shasta saw a great, shaggy and terrible shape crouched on the water’s edge; but only one. “We must have shaken off the other lion,” he thought.

      The lion apparently did not think its prey worth a wetting; at any rate it made no attempt to take to the water in pursuit. The two horses, side by side, were now well out into the middle of the creek and the opposite shore could be clearly seen. The Tarkaan had not yet spoken a word. “But he will,” thought Shasta. “As soon as we have landed. What am I to say? I must begin thinking out a story.”

      Then, suddenly, two voices spoke at his side.

      “Oh, I am so tired,” said the one.

      “Hold your tongue, Hwin, and don’t be a fool,” said the other.

      “I’m dreaming,” thought Shasta. “I could have sworn that other horse spoke.”

      Soon the horses were no longer swimming but walking and soon, with a great sound of water running off their sides and tails and with a great crunching of pebbles under eight hoofs, they came out on the farther beach of the inlet. The Tarkaan, to Shasta’s surprise, showed no wish to ask questions. He did not even look at Shasta but seemed anxious to urge his horse straight on. Bree, however, at once shouldered himself in the other horse’s way.

      “Broo-hoo-hah!” he snorted. “Steady there! I heard you, I did. There’s no good pretending, Ma’am. I heard you. You’re a Talking Horse, a Narnian horse just like me.”

      “What’s it got to do with you if she is?” said the strange rider fiercely, laying hand on sword-hilt. But the voice in which the words were spoken had already told Shasta something.

      “Why, it’s only a girl!” he exclaimed.

      “And what business is it of yours if I am only a girl?” snapped the stranger. “You’re only a boy: a rude, common little boy – a slave probably, who’s stolen his master’s horse.”

      “That’s all you know,” said Shasta.

      “He’s not a thief, little Tarkheena,” said Bree. “At least, if there’s been any stealing, you might just as well say I stole him. And as for its not being my business, you wouldn’t expect me to pass a lady of my own race in this strange country without speaking to her? It’s only natural I should.”

      “I think it’s very natural too,” said the mare.

      “I wish you’d held your tongue, Hwin,” said the girl. “Look at the trouble you’ve got us into.”

      “I don’t know about trouble,” said Shasta. “You can clear off as soon as you like. We shan’t keep you.”

      “No, you shan’t,” said the girl.

      “What quarrelsome creatures these humans are,” said Bree to the mare. “They’re as bad as mules. Let’s try to talk a little sense. I take it, ma’am, your story is the same as mine? Captured in early youth – years of slavery among the Calormenes?”

      “Too true, sir,” said the mare, with a melancholy whinny.

      “And now, perhaps – escape?”

      “Tell him to mind his own business, Hwin,” said the girl.

      “No, I won’t, Aravis,” said the mare, putting her ears back. “This is my escape just as much as yours. And I’m sure a noble war-horse like this is not going to betray us. We are trying to escape, to get to Narnia.”

      “And so, of course, are we,” said Bree. “Of course you guessed that at once. A little boy in rags riding (or trying to ride) a war-horse at dead of night couldn’t mean anything but an escape of some sort. And, if I may say so, a high-born Tarkheena riding alone at night – dressed up in her brother’s armour – and very anxious for everyone to mind their own business and ask her no questions – well, if that’s not fishy, call me a cob!”

      “All right then,” said Aravis. “You’ve guessed it. Hwin and I are running away. We are trying to get to Narnia. And now, what about it?”

      “Why, in that case, what is to prevent us all going together?” said Bree. “I trust, Madam Hwin, you will accept such assistance and protection as I may be able to give you on the journey?”

      “Why do you keep talking to my horse instead of to me?” asked the girl.

      “Excuse me, Tarkheena,” said Bree (with just the slightest backward tilt of his ears), “but that’s Calormene talk. We’re free Narnians, Hwin and I, and I suppose, if you’re running away to Narnia, you want to be one too. In that case Hwin isn’t your horse any longer. One might just as well say you’re her human.”

      The girl opened her mouth to speak and then stopped. Obviously she had not quite seen it in that light before.

      “Still,” she said after a moment’s pause, “I don’t know that there’s so much point in all going together. Aren’t we more likely to be noticed?”

      “Less,” said Bree; and the mare said, “Oh, do let’s. I should feel much more comfortable. We’re not even certain of the way. I’m sure a great charger like this knows far more than we do.”

      “Oh, come on, Bree,” said Shasta, “and let them go their own way. Can’t you see they don’t want us?”

      “We do,” said Hwin.

      “Look

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