onents kept at a
respectful distance. Wherever they landed, they left their painful mark
and the boys could only run away and howl.

Enraged at not being able to fight the Marionette at close quarters,
they started to throw all kinds of books at him. Readers, geographies,
histories, grammars flew in all directions. But Pinocchio was keen of
eye and swift of movement, and the books only passed over his head,
landed in the sea, and disappeared.

The fish, thinking they might be good to eat, came to the top of the
water in great numbers. Some took a nibble, some took a bite, but no
sooner had they tasted a page or two, than they spat them out with a wry
face, as if to say:

"What a horrid taste! Our own food is so much better!"

Meanwhile, the battle waxed more and more furious. At the noise, a large
Crab crawled slowly out of the water and, with a voice that sounded like
a trombone suffering from a cold, he cried out:

"Stop fighting, you rascals! These battles between boys rarely end well.
Trouble is sure to come to you!"

Poor Crab! He might as well have spoken to the wind. Instead of
listening to his good advice, Pinocchio turned to him and said as
roughly as he knew how:

"Keep quiet, ugly Gab! It would be better for you to chew a few cough
drops to get rid of that cold you have. Go to bed and sleep! You will
feel better in the morning."

In the meantime, the boys, having used all their books, looked around
for new ammunition. Seeing Pinocchio's bundle lying idle near-by, they
somehow managed to get hold of it.

One of the books was a very large volume, an arithmetic text, heavily
bound in leather. It was Pinocchio's pride. Among all his books, he
liked that one the best.

Thinking it would make a fine missile, one of the boys took hold of it
and threw it with all his strength at Pinocchio's head. But instead of
hitting the Marionette, the book struck one of the other boys, who, as
pale as a ghost, cried out faintly: "Oh, Mother, help! I'm dying!" and
fell senseless to the ground.

At the sight of that pale little corpse, the boys were so frightened
that they turned tail and ran. In a few moments, all had disappeared.

All except Pinocchio. Although scared to death by the horror of what
had been done, he ran to the sea and soaked his handkerchief in the cool
water and with it bathed the head of his poor little schoolmate. Sobbing
bitterly, he called to him, saying:

"Eugene! My poor Eugene! Open your