gone to sleep and been thrown from his horse. In
falling he had bruised and cut himself so prodigiously that the blood
from his wounds attracted to the spot a number of big wild cats. Taken
at a strong disadvantage, and without any weapons to defend himself,
Gilbert would soon have fallen a victim to the ferocity of these savage
creatures had it not been for the opportune arrival of a werwolf. A
desperate battle at once ensued, in which the werwolf eventually gained
the victory, though not without being severely lacerated.

Despite Gilbert's protestations, for he was loath to be seen in such
strange company, the werwolf accompanied him back to the monastery,
where, upon hearing the Abbot's story, it was enthusiastically welcomed
and its wounds attended to. At dawn it was restored to its natural
shape, and the monks, one and all, were startled out of their senses to
find themselves in the presence of a stern and awesome dignitary of the
Church, who immediately began to lecture the Abbot for his unseemly
conduct the previous day, ordering him to undergo such penance as
eventually, robbing him of half his size and all his self-importance,
led to his resignation.

THE CASE OF ROLAND BERTIN

Andre Bonivon, the hero of the other incident, was eminently a man of
war. He commanded a schooner called the "Bonaventure," which was engaged
in harassing the Huguenot settlements along the shores of the Gulf of
Lions, during the reign of Louis XIV. On one of his marauding
expeditions Bonivon sailed up an estuary of the Rhone rather further
than he had intended, and having no pilot on board, ran ashore in the
darkness. A thunderstorm came on; a general panic ensued; and Bonivon
soon found himself struggling in a whirlpool. Powerful swimmer though he
was, he would most certainly have been drowned had not some one come to
his assistance, and, freeing him from the heavy clothes which weighed
him down, dragged him on dry land. The moment Bonivon got on _terra
firma_, sailor-like, he extended his hand to grip that of his rescuer,
when, to his dismay and terror, instead of a hand he grasped a huge
hairy paw.

Convinced that he was in the presence of the Devil, who doubtless highly
approved of the thousand and one atrocities he had perpetrated on the
helpless Huguenots, he threw himself on his knees and implored the
forgiveness of Heaven.

His rescuer waited awhile in grim silence, and then, lifting him gently
to his feet, led him som