“Now, it isn’t as bad as you think,” said Dapple Gray. “Horses and ponies have been caught in the swamp before. I remember when I was a young colt I—”
“Oh, is my little Tinkle caught in the bog?” asked his mother.
“Yes, I am sorry to say he is, and so are some of the other ponies and horses—Tinkle’s father among them,” said Dapple Gray. “But don’t be worried. All they will have to do will be to stay there until we can get The Man to come with ropes and pull them out. They won’t be a bit the worse for the adventure after they wash the mud off. Now please don’t go in there, my dear lady-horse, or you might get stuck too; and goodness knows there is trouble enough!”
“Oh, I am so sorry Tinkle made trouble!” exclaimed his mother. “He is usually such a good little pony—”
“Oh well, boys will be boys!” exclaimed Dapple Gray, or he said something about like that which meant the same thing. And you all know how frisky colts are; always kicking up their heels and never knowing where they are going to land.
“Of course Tinkle didn’t do exactly right in running away and making this trouble,” said Dapple Gray in a kind voice. “But then it will be a lesson to him, and he won’t do it again, I’m sure.”
“I should think once would be enough,” sighed his mother. “But are you sure I can not do anything to help?”
“Not in there,” said Dapple Gray, nodding his head toward the swamp. “But you can come with me, if you like, and we’ll go to get The Man to help pull Tinkle and the others out of the swamp.”
“Yes, I’ll do that!” whinnied Tinkle’s mother.
So she and Dapple Gray ran back to the green meadow.