"You were right."
"But I wasn't able to get back because my legs gave way, so I had to try to crawl on my hands and knees until I had only breath enough left to call for help, certain and sure that ..."
"Heavens! Swine!" Scotimondo swore and stopped rubbing.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing, nothing; take your place at the machine-gun; I'll take mine in the trench."
"Why?"
"You have need of rest," and he went off, growling, "poor Draghetta! He tried to warn the rest of us and couldn't get away himself."
He again left the trench to reconnoiter. Half an hour later he returned, assembled his men, and told them that the foe had retreated to their trenches, but that as soon as it was lighter they would have to make themselves heard, so as to keep the enemy from attempting an attack, which would undoubtedly be fatal to the little garrison. They would have to make a lot of noise, but must not waste ammunition, because when Captain Teschisso's company came into action they would probably have to support it.
"And I impress upon you the importance of not exposing yourselves. The first who does so I'll send to the devil myself. I have need of every one of you, and it's too much that out of ten one should be without feet, one a cook, and one who isn't even a man."
"Did you hear that, youngster?" Ciampanella asked Pinocchio, when the laugh which followed Scotimondo's words had died down. "Did you hear? They want to send you to the firing-line. What do you think of that?"