“Well, was he there?” asked Tinkle’s mother.
Tinkle’s father shook his head.
“Where is he then?”
“Oh, he probably went off for a little walk by himself. I’ll go and find him,” and he tried to speak easily.
“But I don’t see him anywhere!” and the mother pony looked anxiously about the big green meadow. She could see every corner of it, and Tinkle was not in sight.
“Now you just stay here, and I’ll bring him back,” said Tinkle’s father quietly. At the same time he nodded his head at Dapple Gray and one or two of the other men-horses, and two or three of his closest friends among the men-ponies. They moved away together. Tinkle’s mother looked at them as if to say:
“I wonder if anything could have happened?”
“What’s the matter?” asked Dapple Gray in a low voice of Tinkle’s father, speaking in horse-talk, of course.
“I’m not sure, but I’m afraid Tinkle has jumped the fence and has gone over to the big swampy bog,” was the answer. “If he has, and is stuck fast, we’ll have to go and get him out. But I don’t want his mother to know it.”
The men-animals walked over toward the fence. Tinkle’s father looked down at the ground. He saw little hoof marks.