Then another thought came into Shasta‘s mind. “I wonder what sort of a man that Tarkaan is，” he said out loud. “It would be splendid if he was kind. Some of the slaves in a great lord’s house have next to nothing to do. They wear lovely clothes and eat meat every day. Perhaps he‘d take me to the wars and I’d save his life in a battle and then he‘d set me free and adopt me as his son and give me a palace and a chariot and a suit of armour. But then he might be a horrid cruel man. He might send me to work on the fields in chains. I wish I knew. How can I know？ I bet this horse knows， if only he could tell me.”
The Horse had lifted its head. Shasta stroked its smooth. as.satin nose and said， “I wish you could talk， old fellow.”
And then for a second he thought he was dreaming， for quite distinctly， though in a low voice， the Horse said， “But I can.”
Shasta stared into its great eyes and his own grew almost as big， with astonishment.
“How ever did you learn to talk？”
“Hush！ Not so loud，” replied the Horse. “Where I come from， nearly all the animals talk.”
“Wherever is that？” asked Shasta.
