Finding himself without any clothes, the marionette began to think of his condition. To go back and search for his suit was out of the question. To go about in that state did not seem proper, although he knew that the Africans in general were dressed in the same fashion.
Finally he decided to make himself a suit of leaves. There were some beautiful ones near by that were just suited to the purpose. He knew how to go to work, for at home he had often made clothes out of shavings and twigs. He set about his task at once and in a short time had made a garment that reached from his waist down to his knees. He was busy selecting the leaves for a coat when he happened to raise his eyes, and saw a crowd of men and women rushing about as if either very happy or frantic with terror.
“Lunatics!” he murmured, and went on with his work, for he disliked to be seen half-dressed. All at once the marionette heard a hissing, humming sound. A cloud of arrows fell around him. He was amazed and terrified, not by the arrows,—for what harm could arrows do to him?—but by the idea that this meant more trouble for Pinocchio.
“So long as they shoot, I fear nothing; but if they try to capture me, I may have to jump into the river and take to my green ship.”
The arrows continued to fall like hailstones on his shoulders, on his breast, on his arms and legs; but of course they dropped to the ground without doing any harm. The natives were astonished. They looked at one another in blank surprise.
Pinocchio, weary of the game, turned in anger toward them and shouted: “Give up shooting, stupid ones! Do you not see that you are wasting your time?”
They had already perceived that this was true, and they stopped shooting. A group braver than the rest now approached the marionette and surrounded him. One of them shouted, “Hoi! Hoi! Hoi!”
“Pinocchio!” answered the marionette.
“Yah! Yah! Yah!”
“Pinocchio!” the boy repeated. “Are you deaf?”
Then they began to shout in chorus: “Yah! Yah! Hoi! Hoi! Uff! Uff! Uff!”
And Pinocchio replied: “Yah! Yah! Hoi! Hoi! Uff! Uff! Uff!”
This conversation soon began to be wearisome, and Pinocchio tried to escape. It was too late. The Africans, quick as a flash, closed in about him and, seizing him by the legs, raised him from the ground, shouting: “Long live our emperor, Pinocchio the First! Long live our emperor, Pinocchio!”
Pinocchio had never dreamed of such a welcome.
“Long live Pinocchio!”
“Ah! at last! I knew that in Africa my greatness would be recognized. Now I shall be revenged on you, my dear restaurant-keeper, and on you, dear policemen, who wanted to arrest me. Old man, you who wanted to sell me for a rhinoceros horn, now it is my turn!” Thus thought Pinocchio.
This was his first triumph. Flocking like ravens, his African subjects came to render homage to the new emperor, who was carried aloft on willing shoulders. As he passed, all bowed to the ground and then followed in his train. Such a multitude joined the procession that it looked, from a distance, like a vast blot of ink. They went along singing the praises of Pinocchio the First, Emperor and King of all the African kings, sent from heaven to earth to replace the late emperor, who had died the preceding day.
As they marched a great chorus chanted: “He was to come forth from the mouth of a crocodile! He was to remain unharmed by poisoned arrows! He was to have a wooden head! Long live our emperor, Pinocchio the First! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!”
“They shot poisoned arrows at me!” thought the marionette. “That is the way they treated their future king. Lucky for me that I am made of wood,—very hard wood too! How fortunate that I came to Africa as a marionette! If I had been a real boy, there would be little to say about Pinocchio now.”
All books are sourced from Project Gutenberg