As soon as it was full daylight he left the road and found an open grassy place amid a wood where he could rest. He took off Destrier’s bridle and let him graze， ate some cold chicken and drank a little wine， and presently fell asleep. It was late afternoon when he awoke. He ate a morsel and continued his journey， still southward， by many unfrequented lanes. He was now in a land of hills， going up and down， but always more up than down. From every ridge he could see the mountains growing bigger and blacker ahead. As the evening closed in， he was riding their lower slopes. The wind rose. Soon rain fell in torrents. Destrier became uneasy； there was thunder in the air. And now they entered a dark and seemingly endless pine forest， and all the stories Caspian had ever heard of trees being unfriendly to Man crowded into his mind. He remembered that he was， after all， a Telmarine， one of the race who cut down trees wherever they could and were at war with all wild things；and though he himself might be unlike other Telmarines， the trees could not be expected to know this.
