Experimental Method
Pinocchio crossed his hands over his empty stomach and stood for a momentpondering. Never in all his life had he had presented to him so difficult a problem as this to solve. He thought and thought, and, like Galileo, had recourse to the experimental method. He knelt down in the snow and began to scrape it away with his hands on the spot where his body, covered by the latest issue of the newspaper, had left an impression. The smell of caramel sauce kept growing more fragrant, and Pinocchio's tongue licked the end of his nose so solemnly that he would have made the inventor of handkerchiefs blush with shame. Suddenly a deep opening appeared under the snow. Pinocchio stuck his arms in up to the elbows and uttered a shriek of terror. His hands and wrists were held as in a fiery vise and his arms were pulled so violently that he was jerked face down on the earth and his nose stuck into the snow.
If he had not been in such an uncomfortable position and had been able to look over his shoulder he would have seen four devils of Alpine troopers advancing very quietly, guns pointed and bayonets fixed. It could be only a starved Austrian who would attempt to enter through the dugout's little window cut through the snow into the officers' mess, and they intended giving him a fine welcome. A corporal with a reddish beard which hung down to his stomach stood two paces away, ready to give him a bayonet thrust that would have run him through like a snipe on a spit, but suddenly he focused his eyes on a certain point, advanced on his hands and knees, and began to read the "Latest News" which he had caught sight of in the seat of Pinocchio's trousers.
The Alpine troops are the bravest soldiers in the world; if any one doubts this let him ask the hunters of that foolish gallows-bird of an emperor; but they are not all well educated, and for this reason Corporal Scotimondo, as soon as he had spelled out the interesting headline, signaled to his comrades to advance cautiously.
You can't have the faintest idea of howimportant a newspaper becomes, even if it is not a particularly late one, up there among those snow-clad peaks where our soldiers were fighting for a greater Italy. So this editorial, which contained the news of the miraculous conquest of the Col di Lana, deserved to be preserved in the archives among the masterpieces of our glory, instead of in the seat of Pinocchio's trousers.
As I have told you, Corporal Scotimondo could scarcely spell, but among his three comrades Private Draghetta was looked upon as a genius, because as a civilian he had been a clerk in Cuneo. But Draghetta, who could see the Austrians a mile off and when he saw them never failed to knock them over with a shot from his gun, was nearsighted as a mole, and when he wanted to read had to rub his nose into the print.
When Pinocchio felt Draghetta's nose tickle him he began to kick like a donkey stung by a gadfly.
"Hold him tight; tie him. We've taken the Col di Lana! The Col di Lana is ours!"
"Really?"
"Is it true?"
"Read it, Draghetta ... don't be afraid ... I'll hold him for you."
Scotimondo sat astride Pinocchio's back and squeezed him with his knees so hard that he took his breath away.
"'Yesterday our brave Alpine troops, supported by infantry regiments, by means of a brilliant attack gained the highest summit of the Col di Lana, which is now safely in our possession.' ... Hurrah!"
"Hurrah for Italy!"
"Hurrah for the King!"
They were crazy with joy and danced about on the snow like fiends, throwing their plumed hats up into the air, waving their guns above their heads. Suddenly, just as if they had risen from the ground, a hundred soldiers appeared and surrounded them.
"What is it?"
"What has happened?"
"The Col di Lana is ours!"
"Hurrah for Italy!"
"Who told you so?"
"Where did you hear it?"
"In the latest news of theCorriere."
"Are you certain?"
"Where did you find it?"
"If you don't believe it, ask Draghetta."
All this noise, this rushing out of the trenches and the soldiers staying in the open, was against regulations, so that Lieutenant Sfrizzoli couldn't let it pass without giving vent to one of his usual fits of rage. Red as a radish, he rushed toward Draghetta, shoving apart the group of rejoicing Alpine soldiers, and stopped in front of him, legs wide apart, and with fists clenched.
"Is it you, Draghetta, who have set the camp in such an uproar?"
"Not I, sir; it is the Col di Lana."
"What? What? What?"
"We've taken it, sir."
"Who told you?"
"I read it myself."
"Where?"
"On ... on ..."
"Well?"
"I don't want to be lacking in respect, sir, to my superior officer, no matter what the occasion may be ..."
"Stupid! Tell me where you read it."
"On the frontispiece of a book without words belonging to an Austrian soldier who ..."
Draghetta didn't succeed in getting outanother word. Something interposed between him and the lieutenant with a lightning-like rapidity ... and he felt a terrible kick in the shins which made him roll over on the ground with pain.
"Mr. Lieutenant, it is I ... the scout Pinocchio, under Captain Teschisso's protection. I took part in the campaign on the Isonzo and left a leg there and in its place I now have a wooden leg of perfect Italian manufacturing. He told you what he thought was so, but I beg to convince you of the contrary. But the news about the Col di Lana is true, as true as can be. Here is theCorrierewhich was on the frontispiece ... of my book without words, in the seat of my trousers. But, as I can't stand the cold, I beg you to have a patch put on and to have served to me a plate of that pastry cooked under the snow, because I am so hungry I could eat even you."
Shortly after the delighted Pinocchio sat in front of a dish piled high with spaghetti, and surrounded by soldiers of the company who never stopped asking him questions about how the war was going down in the plains. With his mouth full he kept turning to this one and that one, uttering inarticulatesounds that might have come from a sucking pig.
The arrival of Captain Teschisso was the signal for a furious attack. He had seen in the distance a long file of the enemy clad in white shirts moving across the snow; he had hurried to the dugout to give the alarm and, taking command of the company, had flung himself on the foe, who, relying too much on the secrecy of his attack, was beaten and put to flight.
Pinocchio had assisted in the action at a loophole in the trench, armed with the finest of spy-glasses. The Alpine troops had performed prodigious deeds of valor. The captain came back with two prisoners, one a Hungarian and one a Croat, whom he held by the collars as if they were two mice surprised while robbing tripe from the larder.
"Heavens! What blows!" he cried, happily, to the soldiers who surrounded him, rejoicing. "But, boys, I won't let them sleep to-night. We must get ready for an attack in force. We must make these pigs sing!"
There was no time to pay any attention to them. A few moments later a rain ofshells began to fall around the neighborhood of the dugout. The Austrians wanted to revenge themselves from a distance for their sudden rout. Teschisso ordered four mountain guns which had just arrived by thefiloviato be mounted on the gun-carriages, assembled his men, and ran to take up his position in an excavation nearly a mile away whence it was possible to observe the enemy's position. Pinocchio and Ciampanella, the company cook, remained behind to guard the dugout, and to them had been assigned the care of the two prisoners from whom Teschisso hoped later to obtain some definite information.
CIAMPANELLA, THE COMPANY COOK
CIAMPANELLA, THE COMPANY COOK
CIAMPANELLA, THE COMPANY COOK
How Pinocchio Made Two Beasts Sing—Contrary to Nature
Excuse me, my children, for not having presented Ciampanella to you before. Ciampanella was a pure-blooded Roman, born under the shadow of the Capitol, like—the wolf kept at the cost of the City Commune. If Francis Joseph had seen him he would have appointed him at once as royal hangman because he had a gallows countenance and a body like a gigantic negro. Yet he was the best-hearted man in the world, so good that he wouldn't harm a fly.
This evening he was in such a good humor that he made even Pinocchio laugh, whom the charge of the prisoners had made as serious as a judge.
"Listen, youngster, don't bother yourself with these two scoundrels whose throatsI'll cut some day with my kitchen knife as if they were pigs, and so you will be freed from the care of them, and I win back the honor which I lose in feeding the enemies of my country."
"Are you crazy?"
"Why?"
"Didn't you hear what my captain said? We must make them sing."
"Them sing? It's easier to make the statue of Marcus Aurelius sing that's of bronze and won't move from the Capitol for fear the Councilors of the Commune might take it to a pawnbroker's."
"But I've found out already what their names are."
"I, too."
"Let's hear."
"Pigs."
"That is their family name, but the real name of the Croat is Stolz and the Hungarian's is Franz."
"And then?"
"We've got to find out how many of them are down there in the trenches; if there are others behind them; how many pieces of artillery they have and where; from what point their munitions and suppliescome, and how many officers are in command of the troops."
"That's the easiest thing possible."
"You think so?"
"You ask them and they will answer."
"And if they pretend not to hear?"
"Leave it to me, youngster. I have a special way of making myself understood, even by the deaf. I didn't read for nothingThe Spanish Inquisition. Bring to me here those two satellites of Franz Joe and you'll hear the speeches I'll make them."
Ciampanella rubbed his ears, tied an apron around his waist as when he entered upon his official functions, filled up the little stove with charcoal and lighted a fine fire. When Pinocchio returned to the kitchen, followed by the prisoners, a pair of tongs and a shovel were heating on the red-hot charcoal.
At the sight of these the Croat and the Hungarian exchanged glances and a few quick, dry phrases in their language.
Ciampanella advanced triumphantly to within a foot of them, bowed like an actor to an applauding audience, and unfolded one of his most polished discourses:
"Gentlemen, our officers say that wemust respect the enemy, and I respect you according to command; but in case any one should persist in refusing to speak, just like the beasts, I should feel it my duty to treat him like a beast, and my superiors would say to me, 'Ciampanella, you're right.' I explain this because we have need of certain information, so we take the liberty of asking you in secret certain things which you, gentlemen, can answer, after which we will give you special attention in our culinary service. This is said and promised, so I begin my questions. We want to know how many men and how many officers that big simpleton of your emperor has whipped up together against us."
No answer.
"What? Are you deaf? Don't you understand modern Italian? Then I'll talk ancient Roman to you."
Ciampanella grabbed from the stove the red-hot shovel and waved it before the Austrians' noses. Their eyes popped out with fright, but they didn't utter a word.
"You will either answer or I will give you two kisses with the shovel on your right cheeks and two on your left."
"'Talian pigs! Brigands!"
"May you be skinned alive! To call me a brigand! Me! Pinocchio, which creature is this, Spitz or Spotz?"
"Franz."
"Listen, Franz, if you dare insult me another time, I'll untie your hands and then I'll give you so many boxes on your ear that'll make you more of an imbecile than your emperor."
"You kill us, we die mouths shut."
"We, we ... Wait before you talk in the plural; wait till I put this red-hot shovel to Stolz's ear, and then ..."
Ciampanella came closer to the Croat, armed with his other heated iron, but suddenly he felt a blow on his eye which half blinded him.
"...they can..."
He couldn't finish because Pinocchio burst out laughing so wildly that he had to hold his stomach. Ciampanella, who had been taken unaware by the glass of water Pinocchio had thrown at him, let out all his anger on him.
"Youngster, look out for yourself. I won't stand nonsense from you. I owe to our enemies the respect enjoined by regulations, but you I can take by the napeof the neck and set you down on the stove, and I'll roast you as if you were beef."
Pinocchio became suddenly serious and began to swing his wooden leg so nervously that if Major Cutemup had seen him he would have turned as yellow as a Chinaman with fear. If the descendant of Romulus and Remus had had the slightest idea of the kick which menaced him at this moment he would have grown calm as if by magic. But Pinocchio, who had seen Franz and Stolz exchange sly glances and a smile full of irony, held himself in and, after scratching his head solemnly, approached Ciampanella, who was wiping his eye with his apron, and taking hold affectionately of his arm, said:
"So you want to roast me on your stove?"
"As I told you."
"Wouldn't it be better to cook something on it for our supper this evening?"
"This evening's supper? But you know that this evening I wouldn't light the fire if the commander-in-chief came in person to command me to. When the company is in action I am free to do what I want, and when I am free to do what I want Idon't do anything. So if you are hungry you'll have to eat bread and compressed meat, and if you don't like it you'll have to fast."
"Listen, Ciampanella; you reason like Menenius Agrippa, who was an ancient Roman able to make things clearer than modern Romans, but sometimes you get tangled up in your premises."
"Listen, youngster, don't insult me, because as sure as Ciampanella is my name I will wring your neck like a chicken's."
"But I'm not insulting you."
"Then tell me what kind of things arepremises; otherwise ..."
"Otherwise you'll take me and make me sit on the stove and roast me, won't you? That proves that the fire is lighted and that the charcoal is burning for nothing, and so if, for example, the commander-in-chief should pay you a visit he would give you a fortnight's imprisonment for it, because when the company's in action you are free to do what you want, but not in the kitchen, and if you are hungry you must eat bread and compressed meat or fast."
"Heh, youngster! I didn't light the stove for culinary purposes, but for strategicreasons. It was to make these two beasts talk."
"But they haven't talked."
"We'll fling them out and let the mad dogs eat them."
"But if you, instead of heating the shovel and tongs, had roasted a young pullet and served it with one of those famous sauces ..."
"Chicken in the Roman style with potato puffs ..."
"Just look at Stolz. He's licking his greased whiskers as if the potatoes were cooking under his nose."
"Look at Franz gaping."
"They have a dog's hunger, and in order to make them sing ..."
"You want me to cook a little supper such as I can cook if I set myself to it, stick it under their noses, and ... Youngster, that's a magnificent idea! When I write myManual of War CookeryI'll put you on the frontispiece as the first of kitchen strategians. Leave things to me and in half an hour I'll hand you out a couple of stews that would raise up the dead better even than Garibaldi's Hymn!"
Pinocchio heaved a sigh. He had wonsuch a battle that, if he had been a German, would have caused the people to hammer I don't know how many nails into his statue. While Ciampanella was bustling about on all sides, plucking two young fowls, peeling potatoes, frying lard and onions, melting butter in a saucepan, preparing a stew in another, Pinocchio was striding up and down the kitchen, long and narrow as a corridor, eying stealthily the two prisoners, who were beginning to show signs of a growing restlessness. They had been fasting for more than twenty-four hours and their last food had been such a mess that it might have been requisitioned from the poultry-yard and the stable.
Ciampanella seemed eager to surpass himself. He hovered over his pots without paying any attention to Pinocchio, but talking in a loud voice as if he wished to impart a lesson in cookery to half the world.
"Listen, youngster, when you want to eat two savory young fowls you must cook them in the Roman fashion according to Ciampanella's recipe, which, when it is written down, will not have its equal inUrbis et Orbis. I call it the Roman fashion,but it might also truly be called the Ostrogothic fashion ... but that's the way. Take two young fowls and cut them into pieces, put a good-sized lump of butter into a saucepan and a little onion and fry it a little; dredge the fowls with flour, and put them to simmer in the butter; when they are browned put in some tomato paste, salt and pepper, and let them cook down, later a grain of nutmeg, cover it and let it cook.... Do you smell that odor, youngster? And just think how it will taste! You'll lick your napkin like that dirty Croat who ... Ho! ho! look at his tongue hanging out.... Ho! ho! ho!"
The air was filled with a fragrance so entrancing that it would have given an appetite to the mouth of a letter-box; so imagine how the miserable two felt, who, after all, were men of flesh and blood and had no other defect than of having been born under the Executioner's scepter. Stolz with his mouth wide open breathed in the air in deep breaths, tasting it hungrily as if he could really taste the odor that tickled his nostrils. Ciampanella stepped in front of him, and spouted out one of his special speeches, gesticulating with his fork.
"Well, Mr. Croat? How do you think we do it? Franz Joe is worse off than the least of our Alpine troops, because we are not reduced to gnawing bones like you who make war in order to fish, as the proverb says, in troubled waters. What a delicious odor, isn't it? But don't stand there with your mouth open or I'll fill it with dish-water. Here's some!"
"'Talian pig!" howled Stolz, half strangled with nausea and disgust, spitting all around.
"If you call me an Italian pig again, I'll break your head in spite of the respect they teach us is due the enemy, because in this world it is tit for tat."
"Listen, Ciampanella," Pinocchio interrupted at the right moment, "if the chickens are done we could sit down at the table and offer a bite to Stolz."
"That's a good idea, youngster."
While the boy was setting the table and the chef was dishing up the stew, from the distance came several tremendous rumblings, which brought a smile to the faces of the prisoners, who exchanged significant glances. The sound came from our six-inch guns that had been dragged with such effort to the altitude of nine thousand feet andarrived the day before by way of thefilovia, which were now opening fire on the enemy's trenches. If Franz and Stolz had had even the faintest suspicion of this they would have changed their expressions.
"Dear Ciampanella, as a cook you should be put on the pedestal of a monument. This chicken is a masterpiece. If that imbecile of a Stolz, instead of standing there like a dog with his tongue hanging out, a foot away from the tail of a hare, could give a lick to this drumstick, I wager he would desert his emperor and demand Italian citizenship."
A Cook
"For my part, I'd rather give him the chicken than the citizenship."
"I would as lief have it," Stolz risked saying, passing his tongue over his whiskers.
"I guess so."
"And I'll give you not only a drumstick, but half a chicken with gravy and a loaf of bread to go with it, if you'll tell me ..."
"We can't talk; don't want to betray our country."
"Dear Stolz, you're a fine fellow, but if you can't talk I can't give you anything to eat and we are quits. But I haven't asked you to betray either Croatia, or even Hungary, if you are afraid of Franz's hearing you."
"Oh, he speaks only Magyar."
"All the better; then you can tell me how many Bohemians, Slovaks, Carinthians, Poles, Germans, and Styrians are intrenched on Mount X opposite our men.... We'll leave out the Croats, your countrymen ... and, moreover, I'll wager five soldi of Victor Emanuel against a crown of your emperor that if they were here and smelled this odor they wouldn't make such a to-do about it or talk like lawyers. But smell this" ... and while he spoke the rascal of a Pinocchio took in both his hands the dish with the stew and held it close to Stolz's nose, who shut his eyes and heaved a sigh as if he were giving up his soul to the god of all the Croats.
"You 'Talian scoundrel, if you give me and Franz all we can eat and drink I'll tell you what you want to know."
"May the saints in Paradise reward you! If you sing and sing well, look what delicate morsels I'll give you," cried Ciampanella, jumping about with delight. He hastened to fill two plates with delicious food and two loaves of fresh bread and half of a sharp old sheep's cheese which would have brought a dead man to life.
"And now there's nothing more to do except to untie your hands and to give you chairs to sit on."
"We have three lines of trenches, fifteen hundred men ... two batteries placed on the Donkey's Saddle ... but you have Alpine troops and we can't get the better of you. So our colonel had marvelous plan—he had huge mine dug and thought to blow up Alpines to bust them all up. This morning we attacked on purpose. When Alpines came face to us, we go all back to retreat, but they not come to mined spot and didn't all bust up. But when Alpines enter first trench which we leave ... bum! 'Talian pigs all dead and Austrian soldiers shout hurrah for emperor.Did you hear little while ago lots of noise? I knows ... I knows what it was ... big mine blow up."
"And 'Talian pigs all killed, aren't they?" yelled the enraged Ciampanella. "And you think I am going to give you food? Not by a long shot. See what game I'm going to play with you. In the mean time pray to the god of all the Croats that what you have said may not be true, because if, instead of making war as real soldiers do, your side has committed such a despicable deed, you two shall pay for it, and as truly as my name is Ciampanella, chef of the mess, you'll pay for it dearly enough."
And shaking his lion head and jumping up in the air, waving his arms about violently, he took up a piece of rope and bound the prisoners tightly to a pole which supported the roof of the dugout.
"And now if you can eat these good gifts of God which I leave under your nose, you'll do well, I assure you.... Come, Pinocchio, we must take this news to the officer commanding our company, because I don't believe anything wrong has happened yet."
"And the prisoners?"
"They won't escape, I, Ciampanella,assure you. They are tied up like two pork sausages, and, besides, you know what we'll do? When the door is shut we'll put up against it one of the bombs that they make which go off almost without touching them. I know where some of them are hidden away. If they should succeed in loosening the rope and should try to get away they'll take a ride in the air. And now we'll wish the gentlemen good appetite and be off on our own affairs."
Five minutes later Ciampanella and Pinocchio were running across the snow through the dusk.
How Pinocchio Complained Because He Was No Longer a Wooden Puppet
It was no easy matter for Ciampanella and Pinocchio to reach their company, which was intrenched about three miles away, on a declivity as sharp as a knife-blade, bordered by jagged precipices. They could not have held out against artillery up there, but the position was well chosen from which to hammer the enemy's first trench that was built on a little slope two hundred yards lower down and less than two miles away. Farther along there opened up a pass of great strategic importance which the Austrians apparently were intending to defend at all costs. Yet it had seemed strange to Teschisso that the foe with its numerous exits should try to attack his Alpine troops in force, all the more that his first line of defensemight be considered as irretrievably lost. For this reason he had restrained the impulse of his brave soldiers to fight and decided to intrench them on the difficult slope to await a favorable moment for decisive action. In the mean time he had been able to hammer the enemy's position with four large pieces of artillery which he had placed on a summit above his intrenchment. When Pinocchio related to him how, with the aid of the mess-cook, he had made Franz and Stolz sing, and repeated the few words which he had heard from their mouths, he had no longer any doubt regarding the foe's strange behavior.
"Heavens! Those scoundrels wanted to blow us up! Luckily I was prudent, but you'll see what a joke I'll invent to play on those dogs! Call Corporal Scotimondo."
The most important duties were usually intrusted to this soldier with a face like a cab-driver's, with a large blond beard and full, ruddy cheeks, who at first sight looked so good-natured. But he was a man of exceptional energy and extraordinary courage. Calm and quiet when danger raged, he could inspire in his comrades a boundless confidence.
"Corporal, from information received I have learned that we have opposite us fifteen hundred men."
"All the better."
"And a mined zone."
"That's not so good, not good at all."
"I have determined to attack the foe from the rear and force him on to the mined zone. I shall set off with the whole company, leaving only eight men in the trench, which they must hold at all costs and keep up a devilish fire to make the enemy think we are all here. Do you understand?"
"Certainly, certainly."
"You will command the squad."
"Thanks, Captain."
"I will leave you also Pinocchio and Ciampanella, so that there will be ten of you. Choose the other eight quickly, because I am going to give immediate orders to depart."
"Draghetta, Senzaterra, Pulin, Cattaruzza, and the four Scagnol brothers."
"All right! Go and tell them. Remember that I trust you. I am attempting a big coup, but if I succeed, Heavens, what a stroke!... They'll fly up like birds."
A little later Pinocchio was witness of a marvelous and fantastic scene. The narrow trench was alive with a mass of black figures that moved noiselessly. The Alpine troops armed themselves with rope and hatchets, filled up their canteens, and replenished their cartridge-belts, whispering quick, concise sentences, interrupted with laughs, quickly smothered as the rattle of an officer's sword was heard. All these shadows grouped themselves in the depth of the trench against a heap of huge stones and merged into the profound darkness. For a time still there was to be heard coming from down below a subdued rustle, then a profound silence. Pinocchio was strangely affected and was eager to find out what had happened. He ran to the end of the trench—there was not a soul there. Where had his Alpine troops gone? Had they perhaps been swallowed up by the abyss which yawned a few feet away? He was so terrified that he began to yell desperately.
"Captain! Captain Teschis ..."
He didn't get the chance to finish; he felt two rough, heavy hands grab him by the ears and lift him up three feet from the ground.
"Less racket here. Don't be such an idiot. Don't you know that in the trenches you've got to be as quiet as in church, and ... here I'm in command, and when I command anything I've got to be obeyed."
"I'll obey," Pinocchio grumbled, keeping back a cry of pain.
Corporal Scotimondo put him down gently on the ground, face to face with himself, and then asked, sharply:
"What did you want with Captain Teschisso?"
"I? Nothing."
"Why did you call him, then?"
"I thought perhaps ... something terrible had happened.... He's gone ... they're all gone."
"Gone? How gone? They haven't disappeared; they've only gone down ..."
"Where?"
"The precipice, and then they'll climb up again on the other side, will reach the first trench, will get the better of the enemy and drive them on the mined zone. Then we'll see a fine sight. But until this minute comes we've got to keep quiet and not make a racket. Do you understand?Now go to sleep because you have been mobilized and will have to stand sentry also, and, besides, to-morrow there'll be things to do. Now march!"
The Cook
Scotimondo emphasized this command with a kick which made Pinocchio take the first steps and showed him the direction he was to go. The unexpected disappearance of the Alpine troops still seemed miraculous in spite of the simple explanation Scotimondo had given him, and Pinocchio hada profound respect for everything that smacked of magic.
A Kick
"Yes, gone down," he grumbled to himself while he was nearing the other end of the trench. "That's quickly said, but I'd just like to know how it is possible for men of skin and bones to do such a thing. The precipice is so deep and so steep that if Ciampanella had not pulled me by the collar I should never have got here. And how will they manage to get down it? Hum! I am almost beginning to believe that these Alpine soldiers are in league with the devil. I saw two of them yesterday with somekind of shoes a couple of yards long which flew over the snow like airplanes. I wanted to ask the mess-cook to explain it to me, but from fear he would make fun of me I kept quiet. But from now on I must keep my eyes more on those men. If I discover they really have any dealings with the devil I'll take myself off on the first occasion."
He stumbled and fell face downward into a soft warm mass from which came a dull grunt. Overcome with terror, he was about to take flight when he felt himself held fast by a leg as firmly as if by a trap.
"I wish you'd get killed. Couldn't you let me sleep a minute? You must be either a creditor or that tyrant of a picket officer going his rounds.... If you are a creditor come back six months after peace is declared, because now I won't pay you a soldo even if I had one. If you are the picket officer I tell you that when I have put out the fires I have a right to take my ease ... and now let me sleep ... May you be ..."
"Oh, Ciampanella, let me go. Don't you recognize me? I am Pinocchio."
"Oh, it's you, youngster, is it? Did youintend to make me sing like Spizzete Spazzete? I have nothing to tell you, but if you insist upon my singing something for you at all costs, I will sing for you to get up off me."
Pinocchio, seeing that the mess-cook was in one of his "moments," thought it prudent to leave him in peace, so he lay down on a heap of straw that was close by, intending to go to sleep.
But his sleep didn't last long. About four o'clock in the morning, when dawn was peeping over the horizon, he heard a shot that seemed to come from a spot not far from the trench.
"Get your guns, boys!" yelled Scotimondo, rushing to a machine-gun, while the others, guns in hand, took their places before the loopholes. "It was Draghetta who saw the enemy. Boys, I count on you. We've got to make a racket, lots of noise as if all the company were here, and don't expose yourselves ... let them have a continuous and intense fire."
His glance took in Pinocchio, who was gazing at him, his eyes wide open with terror, and Ciampanella tranquilly dozing. With a bound he caught up a gun and put it into the boy's hands.
"Ho, lad, stop standing there doing nothing or I'll break your neck! I'll smash your head before the potato-eaters knock it in."
With another spring he was on top of the cook, who was calmly dreaming a culinary dream, and gave him such a kick that he jumped up like a jack-in-the-box.
"I hope they'll eat you."
"Ready to fire! Fire! for Heaven's sake!" Scotimondo screamed at him and ran to take his post, grumbling, "but why doesn't the sentinel come back? What's that scoundrel of a Draghetta doing?"
Ciampanella rubbed his eyes and discovered Pinocchio, who stood there turning his gun round and round without having yet discovered what exactly it was that he held.
"May the dogs eat you! Instead of standing there fiddling with your weapon that you know as much about as I know about training fleas, you would do better to give a look at the saucepan that it doesn't burn instead of making me get that kick from the corporal."
"But what saucepan? Are you still asleep?"
"Didn't you hear what he yelled at me when he kicked me? 'Fire! Fire!'"
"Certainly, but he meant the fire of the battery, not that of the stove. Don't you know that we are expecting an attack?"
"Who says so? There's no need to wait for it. You can wait if you want to, but I'm off. I don't know anything about war and don't know how to shoot. When there are necks to wring or beasts to butcher I'm ready, because they are hens or lambs or such like beasts, but Christians Ican't, and toward the enemy I have the respect ordered by our superiors. Listen, youngster, if two bullets hit me in the rear I'll take them and won't protest, but I don't stay here at the front unless they tie me."
He was just getting away when Scotimondo, who had an eye on him, turned hurriedly and poked a revolver at his back.
"Oh, very well! There are certain arguments you can't dispute. I'll remain, but I'll find me a hole where I can be safe, because if I die theManual of War Cookerywon't be written," and he threw himself down on a big stone, signaling to the "youngster" to follow him.
A voice outside was calling for help, only a few feet away from the trench.
"Stay where you are, all of you. I'll go,"commanded Scotimondo, and, wriggling like a serpent, with his revolver in his hand, he set off and was lost in the darkness. Shortly after he returned, dragging in Draghetta.
"What's the matter? Are you wounded?"
"No, not exactly wounded, but I can't stand up. I'm afraid my feet are frozen."
"Let's have a look," and he made him sit down and began to free him from his woolen puttees, his hobnailed boots, his waterproof stockings, and to rub his red, swollen feet with snow, all the time continuing to question him.
"Was it you who fired that shot?"
"Yes."
"Is the enemy in sight?"
"They tried to leave their trenches—two little groups—one of their usual nasty little ways to draw us out, and as my superiors did not see them, I thought it my duty to give the alarm signal."
"You were right."
"But I wasn't able to get back because my legs gave way, so I had to try to crawl on my hands and knees until I had only breath enough left to call for help, certain and sure that ..."
"Heavens! Swine!" Scotimondo swore and stopped rubbing.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing, nothing; take your place at the machine-gun; I'll take mine in the trench."
"Why?"
"You have need of rest," and he went off, growling, "poor Draghetta! He tried to warn the rest of us and couldn't get away himself."
He again left the trench to reconnoiter. Half an hour later he returned, assembled his men, and told them that the foe had retreated to their trenches, but that as soon as it was lighter they would have to make themselves heard, so as to keep the enemy from attempting an attack, which would undoubtedly be fatal to the little garrison. They would have to make a lot of noise, but must not waste ammunition, because when Captain Teschisso's company came into action they would probably have to support it.
"And I impress upon you the importance of not exposing yourselves.The first who does so I'll send to the devil myself.I have need of every one of you, and it's too muchthat out of ten one should be without feet, one a cook, andone who isn't even a man."
"Did you hear that, youngster?" Ciampanella asked Pinocchio, when the laugh which followed Scotimondo's words had died down. "Did you hear? They want to send you to the firing-line. What do you think of that?"
But Pinocchio didn't reply. His wooden leg just then seemed to have nervous twinges and rattled like a rusty key in a lock. The sun had scarcely begun to rise above the horizon and the snow to glisten in its rays when from the trench cut out of the slope narrow as a knife-blade came a sound of firing that was truly infernal. The machine-gun was smoking, but poor Draghetta didn't let it rest a minute. The others kept up a tremendous fire and an accurate one, because they could see that the parapet of the enemy's trench was marked by little red clouds. Every now and then above the crackle of the musketry resounded the humming of larger projectiles that had their own special tone. The Austrian commanders were evidently laying plans for the whole day because there was not even the shadow of an enemyto be seen. They contented themselves with replying with an occasional shell. But what would they have done if they had known that opposite them were only seven men, and one of them disabled, and that the formidableta-pum, ta-pum, ta-pumwhich rose above the whine of the musketry came from—themouthsof Pinocchio and Ciampanella?
The coming of the twilight cast a veil of melancholy over the little garrison, wearied by the fatigues imposed by its continual vigilance and the continual answer to the firing of the foe.
They were all expecting every moment to see Captain Teschisso's company come into action, the Austrians swept from their trenches with the bayonets at their backs and thrown on the mined zone where they would all be blown up. Yet nothing of the sort was taking place. The enemy had never appeared more quiet and as sure of himself as to-day. What had happened to the company? It wasn't possible that it had been captured by superior forces. The Alpine troops would have fought like lions; the noise of their battle would have reached the trench, and some one wouldcertainly have returned to bring the news of the disaster. It was more likely that Captain Teschisso, knowing that he would have to engage a superior force, had decided to attack at night. The surprise and the impossibility of judging the number of the assaulting force would certainly keep the enemy from resisting. But Corporal Scotimondo was not altogether satisfied with his captain's tactics.
"I'm not a Napoleon," he grumbled, in his patois, striding with long steps through the narrow passageway of the trenches, every now and then making a right-about face. "I'm not a Napoleon. It's easy to say 'hold fast at all costs,' but in order to hold fast you have to have men. My men are not made of iron; I am not made of iron; they need rest and yet even to let them rest I can't allow the trench to be without sentinels all night. If I change sentries every half-hour, nobody sleeps; if I make them stay at the posts for two hours according to regulations, they'll come back to me with their feet frozen like Draghetta, and then we couldn't hold fast. Plague take it! This is certainly a situation to upset a corporal. If ..."
He stopped suddenly because Pinocchio barred his way. He looked at him for a minute in amazement, gestured with his head for him to move to one side, but, seeing that he stood there as firmly as if he had taken root, he grunted, I don't know whether with anger or surprise.
"Skip, boy, skip. Don't you understand anything? Don't you understand I want you to get from under my feet?"
"Just a question, corporal."
"What is it?"
"You need a sentinel for to-night."
"Yes, a new one every half-hour."
"I have come to volunteer."
"Why not? I like the idea ... you, too, will take your half-hour's turn, but this doesn't help me solve my problem of ..."
"But I have come to volunteer for the whole night."
"Really? Are you in earnest?"
"Yes, indeed. You see, Corporal Squassamondo, I should have liked to remind you this morning early that I have a wooden leg, but I prefer to tell you now. Wood doesn't freeze and so I can stand guard for ten hours even without any danger, ifyou only give me enough to cover myself with and plenty to eat."
"And the other leg?"
"Ciampanella has told me that storks sleep all night standing on one leg and don't fall over. I am a man 'that's not a man,' but if I were no more good than a stork I shouldn't have got a wooden leg on the battle-field."
The little lesson had sunk in and Scotimondo felt it like a pinch on the shins. He tried to be furious, but didn't succeed. He let out a terrible "Good Heavens!" then was overcome with emotion, caught Pinocchio in his arms, pressed him to himself, and kissed him again and again.
It was a night blacker than a German conscience. Two shadows glided over the snow and stopped in the shelter of a rock which dominated all the narrow slope, the enemy's trenches, the awful mass of peaks and jagged ridges. At the side of the adversary's position the snow was marked with an enormous black streak which was lost in the depth of the mountains. It was the abyss, a frightful wedge-shaped crack which looked like an enormous interrogationpoint drawn with charcoal on an immense white sheet.
"You feel all right?"
"Fine as possible."
"Did they give you a good supper?"
"I'm so full that I can't draw a long breath with all this stuff I've got on me. I certainly sha'n't feel cold."
"In your right pocket you'll find a thermos bottle of hot coffee; in the other, chocolate."
"Splendid."
"Do you want a gun?"
"What should I do with it? In case of alarm I'll keep sounding 'ta-pum' like this morning."
"Then you understand. You must keep a lookout down there all the time, there where the white of the snow meets the black of the sky. If you see anything white on black or black on white which moves give the alarm; if not, keep still. Take good care not to fall asleep, because if I should go the rounds and find you asleep I should be compelled to kill you at your post."
"In that case wake me up ... five minutes beforehand."
"Well, I'm off."
"Good luck."
"I want to impress it on you—no racket now."
"Good-by, Scrollamondo. Don't worry."
Pinocchio had the courage of a lion that night, and if the Austrians had attempted an attack he would have felt equal to them all by himself. As soon as he was alone he took out from the pockets of his cloak, so full of food that they seemed a military depot, a thin rope a couple of yards long, knotted one end of it, stuck his head through, bending his good leg, put his foot on the rope, which he swung in front of him at the height of his knee, and, leaning against the rock, stood there still, resting on his wooden leg.