“Tinkle is in deeper than any of them,” said Mr. Carter. “We must get him out first.”
The men laid down the wide planks. The pieces of wood were so broad that they did not sink down in the soft mud, any more than wide snow shoes will sink down when an Indian, or any man, walks on them.
Then, standing on the planks, the men put ropes about Tinkle and began to pull on them. They also laid down planks near him so that when he got one foot out of the mire he could put it on a plank and it would not sink down again.
After some hard work and much pulling on the ropes, which hurt the little pony, Tinkle was pulled out of the swamp, and led to firm, dry ground, back in the meadow.
“And now you’d better stay there,” said Mr. Carter. “Don’t try a thing like this again.”
“No indeed, you must never do it again!” said Tinkle’s mother, for she could tell by Mr. Carter’s voice that he was, in a way, scolding the pony. “See what a lot of trouble you made your father and me, as well as Dapple Gray and our other friends,” said Tinkle’s mother.
“I—I’m sorry,” said the little pony. “I’m never going to run away again.”
“And see how muddy and dirty you are,” went on his mother. “You had better go to the brook and wash yourself.”
“Oh, let me stay and watch them get my father and the others out of the swamp,” begged Tinkle, so his mother let him stay.
It was not quite so hard to get the others out as it had been to save Tinkle, for they were not so deep in the mud. But it took Mr. Carter and his men quite a while. Finally, however, the ponies and the horses were all saved from the swamp.