“But I see the shore as well,” said the puppet.  “You must know that I am like a cat:  I see better by night than by day.”

Poor Pinocchio was making a pretense of being in good spirits, but in reality he was beginning to feel discouraged; his strength was failing, he was gasping and panting for breath.  He could do no more, and the shore was still far off.

He swam until he had no breath left; then he turned his head to Geppetto and said in broken words?

“Papa, help me, I am dying!”

The father and son were on the point of drowning when they heard a voice like a guitar out of tune saying: 

“Who is it that is dying?”

“It is I, and my poor father!”

“I know that voice!  You are Pinocchio!”

“Precisely; and you?”

“I am the Tunny, your prison companion in the body of the Dog-Fish.”

“And how did you manage to escape?”

“I followed your example.  You showed me the road, and I escaped after you.”

“Tunny, you have arrived at the right moment!  I implore you to help us or we are lost.”

“Willingly and with all my heart.  You must, both of you, take hold of my tail and leave it to me to guide you.  I will take you on shore in four minutes.”

Geppetto and Pinocchio, as I need not tell you, accepted the offer at once; but, instead of holding on by his tail, they thought it would be more comfortable to get on the Tunny’s back.

Having reached the shore, Pinocchio sprang first on land that he might help his father to do the same.  He then turned to the Tunny and said to him in a voice full of emotion: 

“My friend, you have saved my papa’s life.  I can find no words with which to thank you properly.  Permit me at least to give you a kiss as a sign of my eternal gratitude!”

The Tunny put his head out of the water and Pinocchio, kneeling on the ground, kissed him tenderly on the mouth.  At this spontaneous proof of warm affection, the poor Tunny, who was not accustomed to it, felt extremely touched, and, ashamed to let himself be seen crying like a child, he plunged under the water and disappeared.

By this time the day had dawned.  Pinocchio, then offering his arm to Geppetto, who had scarcely breath to stand, said to him: 

“Lean on my arm, dear papa, and let us go.  We will walk very slowly, like the ants, and when we are tired we can rest by the wayside.”

“And where shall we go?” asked Geppetto.

“In search of some house or cottage, where they will give us for charity a mouthful of bread, and a little straw to serve as a bed.”

They had not gone a hundred yards when they saw by the roadside two villainous-looking individuals begging.

They were the Cat and the Fox, but they were scarcely recognizable.  Fancy! the Cat had so long feigned blindness that she had become blind in reality; and the Fox, old, mangy, and with one side paralyzed, had not even his tail left.  That sneaking thief, having fallen into the most squalid misery, one fine day had found himself obliged to sell his beautiful tail to a traveling peddler, who bought it to drive away flies.