“Why?”

“Because boys who study make those who, like us, have no wish to learn, seem worse by comparison.  And that is too bad.  We, too, have our pride!”

“Then what must I do to please you?”

“You must follow our example and hate school, lessons, and the master—­our three greatest enemies.”

“And if I wish to continue my studies?”

“In that case we will have nothing more to do with you, and at the first opportunity we will make you pay for it.”

“Really,” said the puppet, shaking his head, “you make me inclined to laugh.”

“Eh, Pinocchio” shouted the biggest of the boys, confronting him.  “None of your superior airs:  don’t come here to crow over us, for if you are not afraid of us, we are not afraid of you.  Remember that you are one against seven of us.”

“Seven, like the seven deadly sins,” said Pinocchio, with a shout of laughter.

“Listen to him!  He has insulted us all!  He called us the seven deadly sins!”

“Take that to begin with and keep it for your supper tonight,” said one of the boys.

And, so saying, he gave him a blow on the head with his fist.

But it was give and take; for the puppet, as was to be expected, immediately returned the blow, and the fight in a moment became general and desperate.

Pinocchio, although he was one alone, defended himself like a hero.  He used his feet, which were of the hardest wood, to such purpose that he kept his enemies at a respectful distance.  Wherever they touched they left a bruise by way of reminder.

The boys, becoming furious at not being able to measure themselves hand to hand with the puppet, had recourse to other weapons.  Loosening their satchels, they commenced throwing their school-books at him—­grammars, dictionaries, spelling-books, geography books, and other scholastic works.  But Pinocchio was quick and had sharp eyes, and always managed to duck in time, so that the books passed over his head and all fell into the sea.

Imagine the astonishment of the fish!  Thinking that the books were something to eat they all arrived in shoals, but, having tasted a page or two, or a frontispiece, they spat it quickly out and made a wry face that seemed to say:  “It isn’t food for us; we are accustomed to something much better!”

The battle meantime had become fiercer than ever, when a big crab, who had come out of the water and had climbed slowly up on the shore, called out in a hoarse voice that sounded like a trumpet with a bad cold: 

[Illustration:  Four rabbits as black as ink entered carrying A little bier]

“Have done with that, you young ruffians, for you are nothing else!  These hand-to-hand fights between boys seldom finish well.  Some disaster is sure to happen!”

Poor crab!  He might as well have preached to the wind.  Even that young rascal, Pinocchio, turning around, looked at him mockingly and said rudely: