About midnight Martin was wakened by loud horrible noises in the room, and started up on bed trembling with fear.  The sounds came from the old man’s nose, and resembled a succession of blasts on a ram’s horn, which, on account of its roughness and twisted shape, makes a very bad trumpet.  As soon as Martin discovered the cause of the noise he crept out of bed and tried to waken the old snorer by shouting at him, tugging at his arms and legs, and finally pulling his beard.  He refused to wake.  Then Martin had a bright idea, and groping his way to the bucket of cold water standing beside the fire-place, he managed to raise it up in his arms, and poured it over the sleeper.  The snoring changed to a series of loud choking snorts, then ceased.  Martin, well pleased at the success of his experiment, was about to return to his bed when old Jacob struggled up to a sitting posture.

“Hullo, wake up, little boy!” he shouted.  “My bed’s all full o’ water—­goodness knows where it comes from.”

“I poured it over you to wake you up.  Don’t you know you were making a noise with your nose?” cried Martin at the top of his voice.

“You—­you—­you throwed it over me!  You—­O you most wicked little villain you!  You throwed it over me, did you!” and here he poured out such a torrent of abusive words that Martin was horrified and cried out, “O what a naughty, wicked, bad old man you are!”

It was too dark for old Jacob to see him, but he knew his way about the room, and taking up the wet rug that served him for covering he groped his way to Martin’s bed and began pounding it with the rug, thinking the naughty little boy was there.

“You little rascal you—­I hope you like that!—­and that!—­and that!” he shouted, pounding away.  “I’ll learn you to throw water over your poor old dad!  And such a—­a affectionate father as I’ve been too, giving him sich nice wittels—­and—­and singing and dancing to him to teach him music.  Perhaps you’d like a little more, you takes it so quietly?  Well, then, take that!—­and that!—­and that!  Why, how’s this—­the young warmint ain’t here arter all!  Well, I’m blowed if that don’t beat everythink!  What did he go and chuck that water over me for?  What a walloping I’ll give him in the morning when it’s light! and now, boy, you may go and sleep on my bed, ’cos it’s wet, d’ye see; and I’ll sleep on yourn, ’cos it’s dry.”

Then he got into Martin’s bed, and muttered and grumbled himself to sleep.  Martin came out from under the table, and after dressing himself with great secrecy crept to the door to make his escape.  It was locked and the key taken away.  But he was determined to make his escape somehow, and not wait to be whipped; so, by and by, he drew the little deal table close against the wall, and getting on to it began picking the rushes one by one out of the lower part of the thatch.  After working for half-an-hour, like a mouse eating his way out of a soft wooden box,