But the bottom was very rough and uneven. Sometimes the wheels struck a large stone, terrifying Mr. Buller, who thought they were going to upset; and sometimes they sank into soft mud, horrifying Mr. Podington, who thought they were going to drown. Thus proceeding, they presented a strange sight. At first Mr. Podington held his hands above the water as he drove, but he soon found this awkward, and dropped them to their usual position, so that nothing was visible above the water but the head and neck of a horse and the heads and shoulders of two men. Now the submarine equipage came to a low place in the bottom, and even Mr. Buller shuddered as the water rose to his chin. Podington gave a howl of horror, and the horse, with high, uplifted head, was obliged to swim. At this moment a boy with a gun came strolling along the road, and hearing Mr. Podington’s cry, he cast his eyes over the water. Instinctively he raised his weapon to his shoulder, and then, in an instant, perceiving that the objects he beheld were not aquatic birds, he dropped his gun and ran yelling down the road toward the mill. But the hollow in the bottom was a narrow one, and when it was passed the depth of the water gradually decreased. The back of the horse came into view, the dashboard became visible, and the bodies and the spirits of the two men rapidly rose. Now there was vigorous splashing and tugging, and then a jet black horse, shining as if he had been newly varnished, pulled a dripping wagon containing two well-soaked men upon a shelving shore. “Oh, I am chilled to the bones!” said Podington. “I should think so,” replied his friend; “if you have got to be wet, it is a great deal pleasanter under the water.” There was a field-road on this side of the pond which Podington well knew, and proceeding along this they came to the bridge and got into the main road. “Now we must get home as fast as we can,” cried Podington, “or we shall both take cold. I wish I hadn’t lost my whip. Hi now! Get along!” Podington was now full of life and energy, his wheels were on the hard road, and he was himself again. When he found his head was turned toward his home, the horse set off at a great rate. “Hi there!” cried Podington. “I am so sorry I lost my whip.” “Whip!” said Buller, holding fast to the side of the seat; “surely you don’t want him to go any faster than this. And look here, William,” he added, “it seems to me we are much more likely to take cold in our wet clothes if we rush through the air in this way. Really, it seems to me that horse is running away.” “Not a bit of it,” cried Podington. “He wants to get home, and he wants his dinner. Isn’t he a fine horse? Look how he steps out!” “Steps out!” said Buller, “I think I’d like to step out myself. Don’t you think it would be wiser for me to walk home, William? That will warm me up.”