He opened the trap, grabbed the Marionette by the collar, and carried him to the house as if he were a puppy.  When he reached the yard in front of the house, he flung him to the ground, put a foot on his neck, and said to him roughly:  “It is late now and it’s time for bed.  Tomorrow we’ll settle matters.  In the meantime, since my watchdog died today, you may take his place and guard my henhouse.”

No sooner said than done.  He slipped a dog collar around Pinocchio’s neck and tightened it so that it would not come off.  A long iron chain was tied to the collar.  The other end of the chain was nailed to the wall.

“If tonight it should happen to rain,” said the Farmer, “you can sleep in that little doghouse near-by, where you will find plenty of straw for a soft bed.  It has been Melampo’s bed for three years, and it will be good enough for you.  And if, by any chance, any thieves should come, be sure to bark!”

After this last warning, the Farmer went into the house and closed the door and barred it.

Poor Pinocchio huddled close to the doghouse more dead than alive from cold, hunger, and fright.  Now and again he pulled and tugged at the collar which nearly choked him and cried out in a weak voice: 

“I deserve it!  Yes, I deserve it!  I have been nothing but a truant and a vagabond.  I have never obeyed anyone and I have always done as I pleased.  If I were only like so many others and had studied and worked and stayed with my poor old father, I should not find myself here now, in this field and in the darkness, taking the place of a farmer’s watchdog.  Oh, if I could start all over again!  But what is done can’t be undone, and I must be patient!”

After this little sermon to himself, which came from the very depths of his heart, Pinocchio went into the doghouse and fell asleep.

CHAPTER 22

Pinocchio discovers the thieves and, as a reward for faithfulness, he regains his liberty.

Even though a boy may be very unhappy, he very seldom loses sleep over his worries.  The Marionette, being no exception to this rule, slept on peacefully for a few hours till well along toward midnight, when he was awakened by strange whisperings and stealthy sounds coming from the yard.  He stuck his nose out of the doghouse and saw four slender, hairy animals.  They were Weasels, small animals very fond of both eggs and chickens.  One of them left her companions and, going to the door of the doghouse, said in a sweet voice: 

“Good evening, Melampo.”

“My name is not Melampo,” answered Pinocchio.

“Who are you, then?”

“I am Pinocchio.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m the watchdog.”

“But where is Melampo?  Where is the old dog who used to live in this house?”

“He died this morning.”

“Died?  Poor beast!  He was so good!  Still, judging by your face, I think you, too, are a good-natured dog.”