Someone at the head of the column winded the horn every now and then， and each time the sound came from a little farther off. He couldn’t see any of the others now， but of course he‘d be able to as soon as he got round the next bend. But when he rounded it he still couldn’t see them. In fact he could see nothing at all. His horse was walking now. “Get on， Horse， get on，” said Shasta. Then came the horn， very faint. Bree had always told him that he must keep his heels well turned out， and Shasta had got the idea that something very terrible would happen if he dug his heels into a horse‘s sides. This seemed to him an occasion fortrying it. “Look here， horse，” he said， “if you don’t buck up， do you know what I‘ll do？ I’ll dig my heels into you. I really will.” The horse， however， took no notice of this threat. So Shasta settled himself firmly in the saddle， gripped with his knees， clenched his teeth， and punched both the horse‘s sides with his heels as hard as he could.
