Round their firesides, during the long dark evenings of the winter, they told wonderful stories of his daring. Some of these stories show us a cruel man, but a brave one; some of them reveal him as patient and watchful, and full of resource in time of danger. Once, when his home was surrounded by soldiers, he put the bell of one of his own goats round his neck, got down on all fours, and, making a great noise, crawled right through a crowd of gendarmes, who were only waiting for the daylight to seize him and carry him off to prison. On another occasion he had been tracked for three hours, and his pursuers were at his heels. The shots were whistling about his head. He came to the bank of a river. It was swollen with recent rains, and to attempt to swim it was almost certain death; for, even if he were not dashed to pieces on the rocks, he would certainly be seen by the soldiers and shot like a dog. He had just made up his mind to plunge into the roaring torrent, when he noticed a swamp a little to his right. He rushed down to the water’s edge, pulled up a long reed, cut it off between two of the knots, and so provided himself with a hollow tube. He put this in his mouth, and then, falling on his back, allowed himself to sink completely under the mud. There he remained quite hidden for twelve long and terrible hours, breathing through the reed, one end of which was in his mouth, while the other was just above the surface of the water. The soldiers looked everywhere for him, but failed to find him, though he was almost in their hands. They departed at last, completely bewildered as to what could have become of him. When he was quite certain that his foes were far from the river’s edge, he crawled out from the swamp, and was once more free and safe. The people honoured him. They said that in taking the law into his own hands in the first instance to avenge his real or fancied wrongs, he had but acted as his fore-fathers had always done. And if the gendarmes got killed when they pursued him--well, so much the worse for the gendarmes; they should have kept out of the way. Bellacoscia became the most noted man in Corsica, and many famous people who visited the island from time to time were taken to see him in his retreat amongst the hills. At last the old man got tired of his solitary life, and in 1892 he came out of his hiding-place and surrendered himself to the captain of the gendarmes. He had no fear for his life, for, according to the French law, a man cannot be hung for murder thirty years after it has been committed. The prisoner was taken to Bastia, and there tried in the assize courts. The Judge solemnly reminded him that for his early offences he had been three times sentenced to death, and once to penal servitude for life. He was set free, but, lest he should return to his old pursuits, he was ordered to leave the country and live in Marseilles. A pension of £100 a year was given to him to provide for his wants and to keep him quiet.