With another spring he was on top of the cook, who was calmly dreaming a culinary dream, and gave him such a kick that he jumped up like a jack-in-the-box.
"I hope they'll eat you."
"Ready to fire! Fire! for Heaven's sake!" Scotimondo screamed at him and ran to take his post, grumbling, "but why doesn't the sentinel come back? What's that scoundrel of a Draghetta doing?"
Ciampanella rubbed his eyes and discovered Pinocchio, who stood there turning his gun round and round without having yet discovered what exactly it was that he held.
"May the dogs eat you! Instead of standing there fiddling with your weapon that you know as much about as I know about training fleas, you would do better to give a look at the saucepan that it doesn't burn instead of making me get that kick from the corporal."
"But what saucepan? Are you still asleep?"
"Didn't you hear what he yelled at me when he kicked me? 'Fire! Fire!'"
"Certainly, but he meant the fire of the battery, not that of the stove. Don't you know that we are expecting an attack?"
"Who says so? There's no need to wait for it. You can wait if you want to, but I'm off. I don't know anything about war and don't know how to shoot. When there are necks to wring or beasts to butcher I'm ready, because they are hens or lambs or such like beasts, but Christians I can't, and toward the enemy I have the respect ordered by our superiors. Listen, youngster, if two bullets hit me in the rear I'll take them and won't protest, but I don't stay here at the front unless they tie me."
He was just getting away when Scotimondo, who had an eye on him, turned hurriedly and poked a revolver at his back.