"In the clouds? Really in the clouds?"
"Certainly."
"Listen, Captain, do I really seem to you as much of a fool as that?"
"Just now, yes."
"Thanks, but you can go in the clouds by yourself; I'll turn back and bid you farewell."
He tried to make one of his usual pirouettes to turn around, but the snow slipped under his feet and he fell, sitting down, and, sliding on the white surface, was precipitated down the slope of the mountain with terrifying speed.
"Help! Help!"
"Stick your staff in! Stick your staff in!" yelled Teschisso, who already believed him lost.
He had need to yell. Pinocchio was flying along like a little steamer under forced draught and couldn't hear anything, I assure you. Suddenly he stopped as if he were nailed to the snow. That was to be expected, you say, with that air of superior beings you assume every now and then. I know—but I can tell you Pinocchio didn't expect it, nor even Teschisso, who was leaping down to help his little friend.