"No, don't. Hold on, Ad. Don't," whispered Ned, for the thing did have a curious appearance.
Addison persisted and slapped old Sol gently with the reins. The rest of us cringed down as low as we could, for we did not like the looks of the object, or the thought of passing close under it. But just as we had got under it, Addison said, "Whoa," and old Sol stopped short.
"Drive on, Ad, drive on," whispered Ned, nervously.
"No," said Addison. "I'm going to see what that is. Take the reins," and he gave them to me. "I can reach it by standing upon the seat."
Addison raised himself slowly, and finding that he could reach the object, began to feel it with his hand.
"Great Scott!" he exclaimed suddenly. "'Tis a man's stocking, on his foot!"
"Ah-h-h!" quavered Ned. "Let's get from under!" He grabbed spasmodically at the reins and gave a shake. Old Sol took a step, and Addison tumbled partly over Willis and Ben, who both gave a howl of nervous apprehension.
"Quit that!" cried Addison, angrily, to me. "Stop, I tell you. You hold that horse."
I pulled old Sol up short and he backed a little, at which Ned jumped out and ran on a few steps; Willis and Ben also slipped out behind.
"Hold still," said Addison to me. "Don't let the horse start and pitch me out."