“Yes， I did，” answered Bree. “I think you‘ll find something in the saddle.bags. They’re over there on that tree where you hung them up last night.or early this morning， rather.” They investigated the saddle.bags and the results were cheering.a meat pasty， only slightly stale， a lump of dried figs and another lump of green cheese， a little flask of wine， and some money； about forty crescents in all， which wasmore than Shasta had ever seen.
While Shasta sat down.painfully and cautiously.with his back against a tree and started on the pasty， Bree had a few more mouthfuls of grass to keep him company.
“Won‘t it be stealing to use the money？” asked Shasta. “Oh，” said the Horse， looking up with his mouth full ofgrass， “I never thought of that. A free horse and a talking horse mustn’t steal， of course. But I think it‘s all right. We’re prisoners and captives in enemy country. That money is booty， spoil. Besides， how are we to get any food for you without it？ I suppose， like all humans， you won‘t eat natural food like grass and oats.”
“I can’t.”
“Ever tried？”
“Yes， I have. I can‘t get it down at all. You couldn’t either if you were me.”
