Shasta soon learned， when he heard Bree talking like that， to prepare for a gallop.
After they had travelled on for weeks and weeks past more bays and headlands and rivers and villages than Shasta could remember， there came a moonlit night when they started their journey at evening， having slept during the day. They had left the downs behind them and were crossing a wide plain with a forest about half a mile away on their left. The sea， hidden by low sandhills， was about the same distance on their right. They had jogged along for about an hour， sometimes trotting and sometimes walking， when Bree suddenly stopped.
“What’s up？” said Shasta.
“S.s.ssh！” said Bree， craning his neck round and twitching his ears. “Did you hear something？ Listen.”
“It sounds like another horse.between us and the wood，” said Shasta after he had listened for about a minute.
“It is another horse，” said Bree. “And that‘s what I don’t like.”
“Isn‘t it probably just a farmer riding home late？” said Shasta with a yawn.
