“That’s a good idea，” said the Horse. “But take care you‘re not caught.”
It was a good deal darker now and very silent except for the sound of the waves on the beach， which Shasta hardly noticed because he had been hearing it day and night as long as he could remember. The cottage， as he approached it， showed no light. When he listened at the front there was no noise. When he went round to the only window， he could hear， after a second or two， the familiar noise of the old fisherman’s squeaky snore. It was funny to think that if all went well he would never hear it again. Holding his breath and feeling a little bit sorry， but much less sorry than he was glad， Shasta glided away over the grass and went to the donkey‘s stable， groped along to a place he knew where the key was hidden， opened the door and found the Horse’s saddle and bridle which had been locked up there for the night. He bent forward and kissed the donkey‘s nose. “I’m sorry we can‘t take you，” he said.
“There you are at last，” said the Horse when he got back to it. “I was beginning to wonder what had become of you.” “I was getting your things out of the stable，” repliedShasta. “And now， can you tell me how to put them on？”
