“That’s what he does!” exclaimed one of the hands.
“But what about the rope?” asked another.
“Maybe he wants me to bring that, too,” observed the stockman. “I wonder if anything can have happened to the horses?”
“I’ll go and take a look,” offered Mr. Carter’s overseer. He quickly ran to a place where he could look down into the green meadow.
“What is it?” asked Mr. Carter.
“All the horses seem to be over near a hole in the fence,” the man reported. “And some seem to be missing. I don’t see that little pony, Tinkle, anywhere.”
“Whew!” whistled Mr. Carter. “Something certainly has happened. This is Tinkle’s mother,” he went on, looking at Dapple’s companion.
“Wouldn’t it be queer if Tinkle were in trouble, and she had come to get you to help him?” asked the overseer.
And of course you and I know that is just what Tinkle’s mother did want, but the stockman and his helpers did not know that yet.
“I think I see what the trouble is!” suddenly cried Mr. Carter. “Some of the animals must have broken down the fence and gotten into the swamp! They’re mired there! We must get ropes and haul them out. Smart horse, is Dapple to tell me that! I’ll come right away. Come on, men! Lively now.”