Neale promptly shut off the power and braked. Agnes was greatly excited, and she pointed to a place in the road not many yards in advance.
The way was narrow, with rocky fields on either side approached by rather steep banks. Indeed, the road lay through what might well be called a ravine. It was the worst piece of road, too (so the guidebook, said), of any stretch between Milton and Marchenell Grove.
As the car stopped, Neale saw what Agnes had seen. Right across the way—directly in front of the automobile—lay something long and iridescent. It was moving.
“Oh!” shrieked Agnes again. “It’s a snake—a horrid, great, big snake!”
“Well, what under the sun did you make me stop for?” demanded the boy. “I’d have gone right over it.”
“That would have been cruel, boy,” declared Mrs. Heard, from behind.
“Cruel? Huh! It’s a rattler,” returned Neale.
“Oh, Neale! It’s never!” gasped Agnes, not meaning to be impolite.
“A rattler, Neale?” asked Ruth. “Are you sure?”
“What’s a rattler?” asked Dot, composedly. “Is it what they make baby’s rattles out of?”