But the men had no sugar for Tinkle. Instead they opened the gate to the stable yard, and led Tinkle out by his mane. The pony went along willingly enough, for he was not afraid of men. None of them had ever hurt him, so he had no reason to be afraid.
“Lead him right out to the van,” said the red-haired man, “and we’ll toss him in. No one will see him in there.”
Before Tinkle knew what was happening he was led out of the yard, to the side street, and suddenly the two men lifted him up and tossed him right inside the big empty moving van, which could easily have held two or three big horses, to say nothing of several ponies as small as Tinkle.
Tinkle was not much bigger than a very big dog, and the men, being strong (for they could lift a piano) had no trouble in lifting the pony from the ground. Into the van they tossed him, and he fell down, but, as it happened, there was a pile of soft bags there so he was not hurt.
But he was much frightened when the men banged shut the big end doors. Then Tinkle felt himself being taken away. He was shut up inside the dark wagon and could see nothing.
Poor Tinkle!