How long his sleep lasted he was never able to say, but the impression on his mind was that scarce a quarter of an hour had elapsed before he was awakened by one of the most terrific storms that he had ever experienced. The boat was rolling fearfully, and rapidly filling with water. To hoist a sail, to slip the cable, and to turn the boat’s head in the direction of the land was his next endeavour, but at this critical moment his courage almost failed him. In the howlings of the storm he heard a peal of unearthly laughter above his head, and, looking up, was horrorstruck at discerning, in the fast flying scud, the form of an old woman perfectly well known to him, who appeared quite at home in her elevated situation. She was accompanied by many others who were strangers to him, but she was the leader of the party, and it was evident that his fright and embarrassment were the cause of their uproarious merriment. Who she was, he could never be prevailed upon to say, and, no doubt, in this he acted wisely. The wind fortunately favoured him. He made for the land, reached his moorings in safety, ran his boat up high and dry on the beach, and leaped ashore. A fresh peal of laughter from his aërial tormentors spurred him on. His house was at no great distance from the shore, but the way to it by the road was circuitous. He took, therefore, a short cut across the fields, passed over one or two hedges without accident, jumped over another and alighted astride on the back of a cow that was quietly chewing the cud on the other side, regardless of the turmoil of the elements. The poor beast, roused so suddenly from her repose, started up and rushed madly across the field, carrying her terrified load with her. The middle of the field was crossed by one of those deep cuttings which are made for draining the marshy lands of that district, and the cow, brought suddenly to a stand, precipitated the unfortunate Jean Falla head over heels into the muddy ditch. Again the unearthly laughter resounded. A less resolute man than Jean would have lost all presence of mind, but he remembered that he was within a few perches of his own house. He scrambled out as well as he could, reached his cottage door, which was fortunately open, entered, closed the door behind him, and fell exhausted on the floor. Another prolonged peal of laughter dying away in the distance was heard outside, but Jean, once under his own roof, felt himself safe. It was some time, however, before he recovered from his fright, and, whatever his real feelings towards them may have been, he was observed from that time forward to treat all old women with marked deference and respect.[194] [194] From my father, to whom the main incidents were related by Sieur Jean Falla himself. THE BLADEBONE.