And he certainly began their night journey with great caution. First of all he went just south of the fisherman’s cottage to the little river which there ran into the sea， and took care to leave in the mud some very plain hoof.marks pointing South. But as soon as they were in the middle of the ford it turned upstream and waded till they were about a hundred yards further inland than the cottage. Then he selected a nice gravelly bit of bank which would take no footprints and came out on the Northern side. Then， still at a walking pace， he went Northward till the cottage， the one tree， the donkey‘s stable， and the creek.everything， in fact， that Shasta had ever known.had sunk out of sight in the grey summer.night darkness. They had been going uphill and now were at the top of the ridge.that ridge which had always been the boundary of Shasta’s known world. He could not see what was ahead except that it was all open and grassy. It looked endless： wild and lonely and free.
“I say！” observed the Horse. “What a place for a gallop， eh！”
“Oh don‘t let’s，” said Shasta. “Not yet. I don‘t know how to.please， Horse. I don’t know your name.”
“Breehy.hinny.brinny.hooky.hah，” said the Horse.
