and abandoned by everybody?  If assassins come they will hang me again to the branch of a tree, and then I should die indeed.  What do you imagine that I can do here alone in the world?  Now that I have lost you and my papa, who will give me food?  Where shall I go to sleep at night?  Who will make me a new jacket?  Oh, it would be better, a hundred times better, for me to die also!  Yes, I want to die—­oh! oh! oh!”

[Illustration:  An Immense Serpent Stretched Across the Road]

And in his despair he tried to tear his hair, but his hair was made of wood so he could not even have the satisfaction of sticking his fingers into it.

Just then a large Pigeon flew over his head and, stopping with distended wings, called down to him from a great height: 

“Tell me, child, what are you doing there?”

“Don’t you see?  I am crying!” said Pinocchio, raising his head towards the voice and rubbing his eyes with his jacket.

“Tell me,” continued the Pigeon, “amongst your companions, do you happen to know a puppet who is called Pinocchio?”

“Pinocchio?  Did you say Pinocchio?” repeated the puppet, jumping quickly to his feet.  “I am Pinocchio!”

At this answer the Pigeon descended rapidly to the ground.  He was larger than a turkey.

“Do you also know Geppetto?” he asked.

“Do I know him!  He is my poor papa!  Has he perhaps spoken to you of me?  Will you take me to him?  Is he still alive?  Answer me, for pity’s sake:  is he still alive?”

“I left him three days ago on the seashore.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was building a little boat for himself, to cross the ocean.  For more than three months that poor man has been going all round the world looking for you.  Not having succeeded in finding you, he has now taken it into his head to go to the distant countries of the New World in search of you.”

“How far is it from here to the shore?” asked Pinocchio breathlessly.

“More than six hundred miles.”

“Six hundred miles?  Oh, beautiful Pigeon, what a fine thing it would be to have your wings!”

“If you wish to go, I will carry you there.”

“How?”

“On my back.  Do you weigh much?”

“I weigh next to nothing.  I am as light as a feather.”

And without waiting for more Pinocchio jumped at once on the Pigeon’s back and, putting a leg on each side of him as men do on horseback, he exclaimed joyfully: 

“Gallop, gallop, my little horse, for I am anxious to arrive quickly!”

The Pigeon took flight and in a few minutes had soared so high that they almost touched the clouds.  Finding himself at such an immense height the puppet had the curiosity to turn and look down; but his head spun round and he became so frightened to save himself from the danger of falling he wound his arms tightly round the neck of his feathered steed.