suddenly, said to
the puppet:

"Would you like to double your money?"

"In what way?"

"Would you like to make out of your five miserable gold pieces, a
hundred, a thousand, two thousand?"

"I should think so! But in what way?"

"The way is easy enough. Instead of returning home you must go with
us."

"And where do you wish to take me?"

"To the Land of the Owls."

Pinocchio reflected a moment, and then he said resolutely:

"No, I will not go. I am already close to the house, and I will return
home to my papa who is waiting for me. Who can tell how often the poor
old man must have sighed yesterday when I did not come back! I have
been a bad son, indeed, and the Talking-cricket was right when he said
'Disobedient boys never come to any good in the world.' I have
found it to my cost, for many misfortunes have happened to me. Even
yesterday in Fire-eater's house I ran the risk.... Oh! it makes me
shudder only to think of it."

"Well, then," said the Fox, "you are quite decided to go home? Go,
then, and so much the worse for you."

"So much the worse for you!" repeated the Cat.

"Think well of it, Pinocchio, for you are giving a kick to fortune."

"To fortune!" repeated the Cat.

"Between to-day and to-morrow your five gold pieces would have become
two thousand."

"Two thousand!" repeated the Cat.

"But how is it possible that they could have become so many?" asked
Pinocchio, remaining with his mouth open from astonishment.

"I will explain it to you at once," said the Fox. "You must know that
in the Land of the Owls there is a sacred field called by everybody
the Field of Miracles. In this field you must dig a little hole, and
you put into it, we will say one gold piece. Then you cover up the
hole with a little earth; you water it with two pails of water from
the fountain, then sprinkle it with two pinches of salt, and when
night comes you can go quietly to bed. In the meanwhile, during the
night, the gold piece will grow and flower, and in the morning when
you return to the field, what do you find? You find a beautiful tree
laden with as many gold pieces as an ear of corn has grains in the
month of June."

"So that," said Pinocchio, more and more bewildered, "supposing I
buried my five gold pieces in that field, how many should I find there
the following morning?"

"That is exceedingly easy calculation," replied the Fox, "a
calculation that you can make on the ends of your fingers. Suppose
that