“Dead? Poor beast! He was so good! But judging from your face you are also a nice dog.”
“Excuse me, I am not a dog.”
“What are you?”
“I am a marionette.”
“And you play watchdog?”
“Yes, it is true; I do so for a punishment.”
“Well, I propose to you the same agreement that I had with the dead Bruno. Are you willing?”
“What are the conditions?”
“We will come here once a week, as we have done in the past, to pay a nocturnal visit to this chicken house; and we will carry away eight chickens. Of these we will eat seven and give you one, on condition—understand well—that you will pretend to sleep and not come out and bark and thus awaken the farmer.”
“And Bruno did that?” asked Pinocchio.
“Oh, yes, and we got along very nicely. You sleep quietly and you may be sure that before we go away we will leave a nice fat chicken for your breakfast to-morrow morning. Do we understand each other?”
“Very well,” replied Pinocchio. But he shook his head as if he would have said, “In a little while we will talk about this again.”
When the four Polecats felt that they were free from harm they walked toward the chicken coop,
