“And I hope they never get caught that way again,” said the stockman, while Tinkle and the ponies and the horses hoped the same thing.
After the mud was washed off them, the animals were not much worse off for what had happened. Tinkle was sorry and ashamed for all the trouble he had caused, and he told the other ponies and his horse-friends so.
For some time after this Tinkle lived with his father, mother and friends in the green meadow. He played with the other children-ponies, but he did not try to run away again. He did want to have some adventures, though, and he was soon to have some very strange ones.
One day, about a year later, a rich man called at the stock farm to buy a horse for his carriage. With the man, who was a Mr. Farley, was his son George, about nine years old.
“Yes, I have some good carriage horses,” said Mr. Carter to Mr. Farley. “Suppose you come down to the meadow and pick out the one you like best.”
“May I come too?” asked George.
“Yes, I think so,” answered his father. “The horses won’t kick; will they?” he questioned.
“Oh, not at all,” answered Mr. Carter. “They are all gentle.”
So George went with his father to look at the horses. But no sooner had the little boy caught sight of the ponies than he cried:
“Oh, see the little horses. I want one of them. Please, Daddy, buy me a pony!”