“Come, now!  Less nonsense and out with the money!” cried the two brigands threateningly.

And the puppet made a gesture with his hands to signify:  “I have none.”

“Deliver up your money or you are dead,” said the tallest of the brigands.

“Dead!” repeated the other.

“And after we have killed you, we will also kill your father!”

“Also your father!”

“No, no, no, not my poor papa!” cried Pinocchio in a despairing voice, and as he said it the sovereigns clinked in his mouth.

“Ah! you rascal!  Then you have hidden your money under your tongue!  Spit it out at once!”

Pinocchio was obstinate.

“Ah! you pretend to be deaf, do you?  Wait a moment, leave it to us to find a means to make you give it up.”

And one of them seized the puppet by the end of his nose, and the other took him by the chin, and began to pull them brutally, the one up and the other down, to force him to open his mouth.  But it was all to no purpose.  Pinocchio’s mouth seemed to be nailed and riveted together.

Then the shorter assassin drew out an ugly knife and tried to put it between his lips like a lever or chisel.  But Pinocchio, as quick as lightning, caught his hand with his teeth, and with one bite bit it clear off and spat it out.  Imagine his astonishment when instead of a hand he perceived that a cat’s paw lay on the ground.

Encouraged by this first victory he used his nails to such purpose that he succeeded in liberating himself from his assailants, and, jumping the hedge by the roadside, he began to fly across the country.  The assassins ran after him like two dogs chasing a hare, and the one who had lost a paw ran on one leg, and no one ever knew how he managed it.

After a race of some miles Pinocchio could go no more.  Giving himself up for lost, he climbed the trunk of a very high pine tree and seated himself in the topmost branches.  The assassins attempted to climb after him, but when they had reached half-way up they slid down again and arrived on the ground with the skin grazed from their hands and knees.

But they were not to be beaten by so little; collecting a quantity of dry wood, they piled it beneath the pine and set fire to it.  In less time than it takes to tell, the pine began to burn and to flame like a candle blown by the wind.  Pinocchio, seeing that the flames were mounting higher every instant, and not wishing to end his life like a roasted pigeon, made a stupendous leap from the top of the tree and started afresh across the fields and vineyards.  The assassins followed him, and kept behind him without once giving up.

The day began to break and they were still pursuing him.  Suddenly Pinocchio found his way barred by a wide, deep ditch full of stagnant water the color of coffee.  What was he to do?  “One! two! three!” cried the puppet, and, making a rush, he sprang to the other side.  The assassins also jumped, but not having measured the distance properly—­splash! splash! they fell into the very middle of the ditch.  Pinocchio, who heard the plunge and the splashing of the water, shouted out, laughing, and without stopping: