“Something dreadful must have happened to Tinkle,” she said. “I can’t stay here. I’m going to see what it is.”
So she began to run toward the men-animals. By this time they were giving a second push to the fence, and, as they were very strong, they knocked off some boards so they could get through.
“Now we’ll see what has happened to Tinkle,” said his father. “Tinkle! Tinkle! Where are you?” he called.
But Tinkle did not answer, for he was far away in the swamp, and just then he was splashing around in the mud and water trying to pull loose his feet from the sticky place.
“We’ll have to go farther on into the swamp,” said Dapple Gray, when they had waited a minute to see if Tinkle would answer.
“But we must be careful,” said one horse, slowly picking his steps. “This is soft ground here. See how deep my hoofs sink.”
“Indeed it is a bad place,” agreed Tinkle’s father. “I hope nothing happens to us. Be careful, every one.”
Slowly the horses and the ponies walked along, picking out the hardest and firmest ground they could find on which to step, especially the horses, for they were, of course, heavier than the most grown-up pony. Now and then all stopped to listen, and Tinkle’s father would call the pony’s name. At last one of the horses said:
“Hark! I think I heard something.”