"Who is there?" said the woman of the house. "I am the Witch of the one Horn," was answered. The mistress, supposing that one of her neighbors had called and required assistance, opened the door, and a woman entered, having in her hand a pair of wool carders, and bearing a horn on her forehead, as if growing there. She sat down by the fire in silence, and began to card the wool with violent haste. Suddenly she paused, and said aloud: "Where are the women; they delay too long." Then a second knock came to the door, and a voice called as before, "Open! Open!" The mistress felt herself constrained to rise and open to the call, and immediately a second witch entered, having two horns on her forehead, and in her hand a wheel for spinning wool. "Give me place," she said, "I am the Witch of the two Horns"; and she began to spin as quick as lightning. And so the knocks went on, and the call was heard, and the witches entered, until at last, twelve women sat round the fire--the first with one horn, the last with twelve horns. And they carded the thread, and turned their spinning wheels, and wound and wove. All were singing together an ancient rhyme, but no word did they speak to the mistress of the house. Strange to hear and frightful to look upon were these twelve women, with their horns and their wheels; and the mistress felt near to death, and she tried to rise that she might call for help, but she could not move, nor could she utter a word or a cry, for the spell of the witches was upon her. Then one of them called to her in Irish, and said, "Rise, woman, and make us a cake." Then the mistress searched for a vessel to bring water from the well that she might mix the meal and make the cake, but she could find none. And they said to her, "Take a sieve, and bring water in it." And she took the sieve and went to the well; but the water poured from it, and she could fetch none for the cake, and she sat down by the well and wept. Then came a voice by her, and said, "Take yellow clay and moss and bind them together, and plaster the sieve so that it will hold." This she did, and the sieve held the water for the cake; and the voice said again: "Return, and when thou comest to the north angle of the house cry aloud three times, and say, 'The mountain of the Fenian women and the sky over it is all on fire.'" And she did so. When the witches inside heard the call, a great and terrible cry broke from their lips, and they rushed forth with wild lamentations and shrieks, and fled away to Slievenamon, where was their chief abode. But the Spirit of the Well bade the mistress of the house to enter and prepare her home against the enchantments of the witches, if they returned again.