"We've taken it, sir."

"Who told you?"

"I read it myself."

"Where?"

"On ... on ..."

"Well?"

"I don't want to be lacking in respect, sir, to my superior officer, no matter what the occasion may be ..."

"Stupid! Tell me where you read it."

"On the frontispiece of a book without words belonging to an Austrian soldier who ..."

Draghetta didn't succeed in getting out another word. Something interposed between him and the lieutenant with a lightning-like rapidity ... and he felt a terrible kick in the shins which made him roll over on the ground with pain.

"Mr. Lieutenant, it is I ... the scout Pinocchio, under Captain Teschisso's protection. I took part in the campaign on the Isonzo and left a leg there and in its place I now have a wooden leg of perfect Italian manufacturing. He told you what he thought was so, but I beg to convince you of the contrary. But the news about the Col di Lana is true, as true as can be. Here is the _Corriere_ which was on the frontispiece ... of my book without words, in the seat of my trousers.

But, as I can't stand the cold, I beg you to have a patch put on and to have served to me a plate of that pastry cooked under the snow, because I am so hungry I could eat even you."

Shortly after the delighted Pinocchio sat in front of a dish piled high with spaghetti, and surrounded by soldiers of the company who never stopped asking him questions about how the war was going down in the plains. With his mouth full he kept turning to this one and that one, uttering inarticulate sounds that might have come from a sucking pig.

The arrival of Captain Teschisso was the signal for a furious attack.

He had seen in the distance a long file of the enemy clad in white shirts moving across the snow; he had hurried to the dugout to give the alarm and, taking command of the company, had flung himself on the foe, who, relying too much on the secrecy of his attack, was beaten and put to flight.

Pinocchio had a.s.sisted in the action at a loophole in the trench, armed with the finest of spy-gla.s.ses. The Alpine troops had performed prodigious deeds of valor. The captain came back with two prisoners, one a Hungarian and one a Croat, whom he held by the collars as if they were two mice surprised while robbing tripe from the larder.

"Heavens! What blows!" he cried, happily, to the soldiers who surrounded him, rejoicing. "But, boys, I won't let them sleep to-night. We must get ready for an attack in force. We must make these pigs sing!"

There was no time to pay any attention to them. A few moments later a rain of sh.e.l.ls began to fall around the neighborhood of the dugout.

The Austrians wanted to revenge themselves from a distance for their sudden rout. Teschisso ordered four mountain guns which had just arrived by the _filovia_ to be mounted on the gun-carriages, a.s.sembled his men, and ran to take up his position in an excavation nearly a mile away whence it was possible to observe the enemy's position.

Pinocchio and Ciampanella, the company cook, remained behind to guard the dugout, and to them had been a.s.signed the care of the two prisoners from whom Teschisso hoped later to obtain some definite information.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CIAMPANELLA, THE COMPANY COOK]

CHAPTER VIII

_How Pinocchio Made Two Beasts Sing--Contrary to Nature_

Excuse me, my children, for not having presented Ciampanella to you before. Ciampanella was a pure-blooded Roman, born under the shadow of the Capitol, like--the wolf kept at the cost of the City Commune. If Francis Joseph had seen him he would have appointed him at once as royal hangman because he had a gallows countenance and a body like a gigantic negro. Yet he was the best-hearted man in the world, so good that he wouldn't harm a fly.

This evening he was in such a good humor that he made even Pinocchio laugh, whom the charge of the prisoners had made as serious as a judge.

"Listen, youngster, don't bother yourself with these two scoundrels whose throats I'll cut some day with my kitchen knife as if they were pigs, and so you will be freed from the care of them, and I win back the honor which I lose in feeding the enemies of my country."

"Are you crazy?"

"Why?"

"Didn't you hear what my captain said? We must make them sing."

"Them sing? It's easier to make the statue of Marcus Aurelius sing that's of bronze and won't move from the Capitol for fear the Councilors of the Commune might take it to a p.a.w.nbroker's."

"But I've found out already what their names are."

"I, too."

"Let's hear."

"Pigs."

"That is their family name, but the real name of the Croat is Stolz and the Hungarian's is Franz."

"And then?"

"We've got to find out how many of them are down there in the trenches; if there are others behind them; how many pieces of artillery they have and where; from what point their munitions and supplies come, and how many officers are in command of the troops."

"That's the easiest thing possible."

"You think so?"

"You ask them and they will answer."

"And if they pretend not to hear?"

"Leave it to me, youngster. I have a special way of making myself understood, even by the deaf. I didn't read for nothing _The Spanish Inquisition_. Bring to me here those two satellites of Franz Joe and you'll hear the speeches I'll make them."

Ciampanella rubbed his ears, tied an ap.r.o.n around his waist as when he entered upon his official functions, filled up the little stove with charcoal and lighted a fine fire. When Pinocchio returned to the kitchen, followed by the prisoners, a pair of tongs and a shovel were heating on the red-hot charcoal.

At the sight of these the Croat and the Hungarian exchanged glances and a few quick, dry phrases in their language.

Ciampanella advanced triumphantly to within a foot of them, bowed like an actor to an applauding audience, and unfolded one of his most polished discourses:

"Gentlemen, our officers say that we must respect the enemy, and I respect you according to command; but in case any one should persist in refusing to speak, just like the beasts, I should feel it my duty to treat him like a beast, and my superiors would say to me, 'Ciampanella, you're right.' I explain this because we have need of certain information, so we take the liberty of asking you in secret certain things which you, gentlemen, can answer, after which we will give you special attention in our culinary service. This is said and promised, so I begin my questions. We want to know how many men and how many officers that big simpleton of your emperor has whipped up together against us."

No answer.

"What? Are you deaf? Don't you understand modern Italian? Then I'll talk ancient Roman to you."

Ciampanella grabbed from the stove the red-hot shovel and waved it before the Austrians' noses. Their eyes popped out with fright, but they didn't utter a word.