“If things go well, as I hope they will, we shall gather many presents,” the prime minister was saying. “It cannot be denied that he is attractive, and I am sure that all our people will vie with each other in making gifts. Therefore, I entreat you to be patient. When the visit is ended we will share what has been gathered.”
After a long silence, interrupted only by the roar of a lion prowling about, the prime minister continued: “As for him, we will dispatch him in the quickest way. If he were not of wood,” he added in a deep voice, “he would be good roasted, but—”
Then some one threw an armful of branches on the fire. The flames lit up the tent, but Pinocchio saw and heard no more, for he had vanished out of sight.
At dawn, notices were sent throughout the whole country that the emperor had disappeared, and that there was no trace of him to be found!
The confusion was terrible. The people everywhere were aroused,—charges were brought against the government. The matter became so serious that the ministers were forced to flee.
Among those who escaped was the prime minister. He went into the forests determined to find the emperor. Having strong legs and a keen nose, he was well fitted to track any kind of animal, including a marionette.
In fact, after many hours of hard work, he beheld the emperor scampering away from a herd of wild beasts. They evidently wanted to make a meal of him. The court gentleman knew that these animals would soon give up the chase, and was content to follow at a distance. After a while daylight drove the beasts away, and the poor, tired emperor threw himself flat upon the ground to regain his breath. Scarcely had he done so when a roaring more terrible than that of wild beasts caused him to spring to his feet in the vain hope of making his escape.