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. 1 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 probably 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 highborn 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!"