“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.
“I 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. “Iforget 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 hut 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’？”
