“Treacherous hounds！” said Bree, shaking his mane and stamping with his hoof. “An atta time of peace, without defia！ But we’ll grea his oats for him. We’ll be there before he is.”
“ we?” said Aravis, swinging herlf into Hwin’s saddle. Shasta wished he could mount like that.
“Brooh-hoo！” snorted Bree. “Up you get, Shasta. we！ And with a good start too！”
“He said he was going to start at once,” said Aravis.
“That’s how humans talk,” said Bree. “But you don’t get a pany of two hundred hor and hormen watered and victualled and armed and saddled and started all in a minute. Now： what’s our dire? Due North?”
“No,” said Shasta. “I know about that. I’ve drawn a line. I’ll explain later. Bear a bit to our left, both you hors. Ah here it is！”
“Now,” said Bree. “All that about galloping for a day and a night, like in stories, ’t really be do must be walk and trot： but brisk trots and short walks. And whenever we walk you two humans slip off and walk too. Now. Are you ready, Hwin? Off we go. Narnia and the North！”
At first it was delightful. The night had now been going on for so many hours that the sand had almost finished giving back all the su it had received during the day, and the air was cool, fresh, and clear. Uhe moonlight the sand, in every dire and as far as they could e, gleamed as if it were smooth water reat silver tray. Except for the noi of Bree’s and Hwin’s hoofs there was not a sound to be heard. Shasta would nearly have fallen asleep if he had not had to dismount and walk every now and then.
This emed to last for hours. Then there came a time when there was no longer any moon. They emed to ride in the dead darkness for hours and hours. And after that there came a moment when Shasta noticed that he could e Bree’s ned head in front of him a little more clearly than before; and slowly, very slowly, he began to notice the vast grey flatness on every side. It looked absolutely dead, like something in a dead world; and Shasta felt quite terribly tired and noticed that he was getting cold and that his lips were dry. And all the time the squeak of the leather, the jingle of the bits, and the noi of the hoofs — not Propputtypropputty as it would be on a hard road, but Thubbudythubbudy on the dry sand.