"And my papa?"
"He must have been swallowed by the terrible Dog-Fish, who for some days past has been spreading devastation and ruin in our waters."
"Is this Dog-Fish very big?" asked Pinocchio, who was already beginning to quake with fear.
"Big!" replied the Dolphin. "That you may form some idea of his size, I need only tell you that he is bigger than a five-storied house, and that his mouth is so enormous and so deep that a railway train with its smoking engine could pass down his throat."
"Mercy upon us!" exclaimed the terrified puppet; and, putting on his clothes with the greatest haste, he said to the Dolphin:
"Good-bye, Sir Fish; excuse the trouble I have given you, and many thanks for your politeness."
He then took the path that had been pointed out to him and began to walk fast—so fast, indeed, that he was almost running. And at the slightest noise he turned to look behind him, fearing that he might see the terrible Dog-Fish with a railway train in its mouth following him.
After a walk of half an hour he reached a little village called "The Village of the Industrious Bees." The road was alive with people running here and there to attend to their business; all were at work, all had something to do. You could not have found an idler or a vagabond, not even if you had searched for him with a lighted lamp.
"Ah!" said that lazy Pinocchio at once, "I see that this village will never suit me! I wasn't born to work!"
In the meanwhile he was tormented by hunger, for he had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours—not even vetch. What was he to do?