The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

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 for trying 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.
The only result was that the horse broke into a kind of pretence of a trot for five or six
paces and then subsided into a walk again. And now it was quite dark and they seemed to
have given up blowing that horn. The only sound was a steady drip-drip from the
branches of the trees.
"Well, I suppose even a walk will get us somewhere sometime," said Shasta to himself. "I
only hope I shan't run into Rabadash and his people."
He went on for what seemed a long time, always at a walking pace. He began to hate that
horse, and he was also beginning to feel very hungry.
Presently he came to a place where the road divided into two. He was just wondering
which led to Anvard when he was startled by a noise from behind him. It was the noise of
trotting horses. "Rabadash!" thought Shasta. He had no way of guessing which road
Rabadash would take. "But if I take one," said Shasta to himself, "he may take the other:
and if I stay at the cross-roads I'm sure to be caught." He dismounted and led his horse as
quickly as he could along the right-hand road.
The sound of the cavalry grew rapidly nearer and in a minute or two Shasta realized that
they were at the crossroads. He held his breath, waiting to see which way they would
take.
There came a low word of command "Halt!" then a moment of horsey noises - nostrils
blowing, hoofs pawing, bits being champed, necks being patted. Then a voice spoke.
"Attend, all of you," it said. "We are now within a furlong of the castle. Remember your
orders. Once we are in Narnia, as we should be by sunrise, you are to kill as little as
possible. On this venture you are to regard every drop of Narnian blood as more precious
than a gallon of your own. On this venture, I say. The gods will send us a happier hour
and then you must leave nothing alive between Cair Paravel and the Western Waste. But
we are not yet in Narnia. Here in Archenland it is another thing. In the assault on this
castle of King Lune's, nothing matters but speed. Show your mettle. It must be mine