I soon fell asleep; but waking suddenly, cramped in every joint from my constrained posture, I thought, for an instant, that I must have been prematurely screwed down in my coffin.
Presenting my compliments to Long Ghost, I asked how it fared with him.
"Bad enough," he replied, as he tossed about in the outlandish rubbish lying in the bottom of our couch.

"Pah! how these old mats smell!" As he continued talking in this exciting strain for some time, I at last made no reply, having resumed certain mathematical reveries to induce repose.

But finding the multiplication table of no avail, I summoned up a grayish image of chaos in a sort of sliding fluidity, and was just falling into a nap on the strength of it, when I heard a solitary and distinct buzz.

The hour of my calamity was at hand.

One blended hum, the creature darted into the canoe like a small swordfish; and I out of it.
Upon getting into the open air, to my surprise, there was Long Ghost, fanning himself wildly with an old paddle.