"Oh, Bunker can walk him back, and Bunny can ride. I'll come back in the boat," said Mr. Brown. "They didn't take the pony cart, did they?"

"No, that's in the barn all right. It will be all ready for Toby when he comes back," said Bunny.

There was nothing more that could be done at the Brown home toward finding the lost or stolen pony, so Mr. Brown, with Bunker Blue and Bunny, after eating a very hasty breakfast, got ready to take a motor boat trip across the bay to Springdale.

This was a town, somewhat smaller than Bellemere, and it could be reached by going around a road that led along the sh.o.r.es of Sandport Bay. But a shorter journey was by water across the bay itself. And it was in this way that Mr. Brown had decided to go this time.

The fish merchant owned a number of boats, some of which had sails, others oars, and some were moved with gasolene engines.

"We'll go in the _Spray_," said Bunny's father, that being the name of the boat.

"We could go faster in the _Wave_," said Bunker Blue, naming a smaller boat.

"Yes, but it wouldn't be quite so safe," said Mr. Brown, who was always very careful about the water, especially if any of the children were with him. "There is quite a sea on, and the wind is blowing hard."

"It looks a little like a storm," observed Bunker Blue.

"Yes, it does," agreed Mr. Brown. "And that's another reason we ought to take the _Spray_."

Bunny Brown did not care much in which boat they went as long as he had a ride and was on the way to find Toby. He was almost sure the Shetland pony would be at the gypsy camp, and he had no doubt but that his father could easily take the little horse away from the bad men who had stolen him.

As they went down to the dock, leaving Sue at home with her mother, Bunny said:

"As soon as I saw the red and yellow flowers, which was just the color of the gypsy wagon, I thought the dark man might have taken Toby."

"And, very likely he did," said Mr. Brown. "Only we must not be too sure."

"Red and yellow are nice colors," said Bunker Blue. "Didn't you tell me, Bunny, that the box of papers Mr. Tallman lost was painted that way?"

"Yes, it was," said the little boy. "It had red and yellow stripes on it. But Mr. Tallman isn't a gypsy."

"Oh, I know that," replied Bunker Blue.

When they reached the dock and were getting ready to go aboard the _Spray_, Mr. Brown looked across the bay, and, noting the rather high waters and the way the wind blew, said:

"I wonder if, after all, we hadn't better go by land?"

"Oh, no, Daddy!" cried Bunny. "Let's go in the boat! It's nicer, and we'll get to the gypsy camp quicker to find Toby."

"Yes, we'll get there more quickly," said Mr. Brown. "But that isn't saying we'll find the pony, though I hope we shall. Anyhow, I guess we can go and come before the storm breaks. Get aboard, Bunny. Have we plenty of gasolene, Bunker?"

"The tank is full," answered the fish and boat boy.

"Well, then I guess we'll be all right. Ready, Bunny?"

"Yes, Daddy!" and the little boy looked eagerly across the bay toward Springdale, where, in the gypsy camp, he hoped to find Toby.

"All aboard, then!" announced Mr. Brown, and one of his men pushed the _Spray_ away from the dock. Bunker Blue started the gasolene motor, and the boat went out into the bay, with Mr. Brown at the steering wheel.

"Oh, I do hope we'll find Toby! I do hope we will!" said Bunny over and over again to himself.

As the motor boat went out beyond the dock the full force of the wind and waves was felt. The _Spray_ bobbed up and down, but Mr. Brown was a good sailor, and Bunker Blue had lived most of his life on and about salt-water, so he did not mind it. Nor did Bunny, for he, too, had often been on fishing trips with his father, and he did not get seasick even in rough weather.

"Like it, Bunny?" asked his father, as the little boy stood beside him in the cabin, while Mr. Brown turned the steering wheel this way and that.

"Lots, Daddy!" was the answer. "Shall we get there pretty soon?"

"Yes, if the storm doesn't hold us back."

But that is just what the storm seemed going to do. The wind began to blow harder and harder, and the waves, even in the sheltered bay, were quite high. But the _Spray_ was a fairly large boat, and stout; able to meet any weather except the very worst out on the open ocean.

On and on she chugged across the bay toward Springdale, and as they got farther and farther out in the middle, the storm grew much worse.

"I don't know about this, Bunker!" called Mr. Brown to the fish boy, who was looking after the motor. "I don't know whether we can get across or whether we hadn't better turn back for our dock."

"Oh, Daddy! don't go back! You're not going back before you get Toby, are you?" Bunny asked.

CHAPTER XXI

THE GYPSY CAMP

Anxiously Bunny Brown waited for his father's answer. The little boy looked out of the cabin windows at the storm which was roughing-up the waters of Sandport Bay. But Bunny was very much concerned about losing Toby, or not going on to find the pony.

"Well, I guess as long as we have come this far," said Mr. Brown, "we might as well keep on. You're not afraid, are you, Bunny?"

"Not a bit, Daddy! I like it!"

"You're a regular old sea-dog!" cried the fish merchant.

"And maybe we'll find our dog, Splash, at the gypsy camp, too," Bunny added.

"Maybe," agreed Mr. Brown. Then he asked Bunker Blue:

"What do you think of it?"

"Oh, I've seen it blow worse and rain harder," answered the boy who was attending to the motor. "I guess we can keep on."

It was raining very hard now, and the big drops, mixed with the salty spray blown up from the water of the bay, were being driven against the gla.s.s windows of the cabin.

"It's a good thing we brought the big boat," said Bunker Blue, as he put some oil on the motor.

"Yes," said Mr. Brown. "I'm glad we didn't try to come in the small one.

We surely would have had to turn back."