lection as from white cloth, or
human skin.

"It looks like a man hanging there," whispered Willis.

"Gracious! You don't suppose it is a man, hung, do ye?" Ned whispered.

The idea startled us.

"Pshaw!" said Addison. "I don't believe it is any such thing. May be
something some one has lost in the road, and somebody else has found it
and hung it up there, where it will be seen."

"Perhaps," said Willis, doubtfully.

"I'm going to drive along, anyway," continued Addison.

"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."

With that he stood up again and began feeling the object. "'Tis a man's
trouser leg, sure--and stocking--but there's something odd inside. Who's
got a match?"

Ben had a few matches, with which he had been touching off firecrackers
earlier in the day, and ventured up to the back of the wagon. Addison
stood up again and struck one, while the rest of us stared as the match
burned slowly.

"It is a stuffed man," cried Addison; "a scarecrow, I guess, stuffed
with grass. But where have I seen those checkered pants before,
to-day?--and, boys, here is a paper, pinned on to them higher up. Back
the horse a little."

I backed a step, and Addison, striking another match, read aloud o