If the horse had been any good.or if he had known how to get any good out of the horse.he would have risked everything on a breakaway and a wild gallop. But he knew he couldn’t make that horse gallop. So he went on at a walking pace and the unseen companion walked and breathed beside him. At last he could bear it no longer.
“Who are you？” he said， scarcely above a whisper.
“One who has waited long for you to speak，” said the Thing. Its voice was not loud， but very large and deep.
“Are you.are you a giant？” asked Shasta.
“You might call me a giant，” said the Large Voice. “But I am not like the creatures you call giants.”
“I can‘t see you at all，” said Shasta， after staring very hard. Then （for an even more terrible idea had come into his head） he said， almost in a scream， “You’re not.not something dead， are you？ Oh please.please do go away. What harm have I ever done you？ Oh， I am the unluckiest person in the whole world！”
Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. “There，” it said， “that is not the breath of a ghost. Tell me your sorrows.”