They walked and walked and walked until they arrived at the Red Lobster Inn, tired to death.

"Let us stop here a little," said the Fox, "just long enough to get something to eat and rest ourselves. At midnight we can start again and to-morrow morning we shall arrive at the Field of Wonders."

They entered the inn and seated themselves at the table, but none of them was hungry. The poor Cat felt very much indisposed and could eat only thirty-five mullets with tomato sauce and four portions of tripe; and because the tripe did not taste just right he called three times for butter and cheese to put on it.

The Fox would willingly have ordered something, but as the doctor had told him to diet, he had to be contented with a nice fresh rabbit dressed with the giblets of chicken. After the rabbit he ordered, as a finish to his meal, some partridges, some pheasants, some frogs, some lizards, and some bird of paradise eggs; and then he did not wish any more. He had such a distaste for food, he said, that he could not eat another mouthful.

Pinocchio ate the least of all. He asked for a piece of meat and some bread, but he left everything on his plate. He could think of nothing but the Field of Wonders.

When they had supped the Fox said to the host: "Give me two good rooms, one for Mr. Pinocchio and another for me and my companion. Before we go we will ring the bell. Remember, however, to wake us at midnight so that we can go on with our journey."

"All right, sir," replied the host; and he winked his eye at the Fox and the Cat, as if to say, "We understand each other."

Pinocchio had scarcely jumped into bed when he fell asleep and began to dream. He seemed to be in a field full of arbors, and each arbor was overgrown with vines covered with large bunches of grapes. Instead of grapes, however, they were all gold pieces, that made a noise when the wind blew — zin-zin-zin-zin. It was just as if they said, "Here we are! Let who will come and take us." When Pinocchio was on the point of reaching for them he heard a loud knocking at the door of his room. It was the landlord who came to tell him that the clock had struck midnight.

"And are my companions ready?" asked the marionette.

"Better than that! They left two hours ago."

"Why were they in such a hurry?"

"Because the Cat received word that his father was very sick with frosted feet and that he was in danger of losing his life."

"And they paid for the supper?"

"What do you think those people are? They are too highly educated to insult a gentleman as good as you are."

"Oh, yes! That affront would have displeased me very much," said Pinocchio, hastily. Then he asked the landlord, "Did they say where I should meet them?"

"At the Field of Wonders, to-morrow morning at daybreak."

Pinocchio paid a gold piece for his supper and that of his companions, and then departed. He groped his way along, because outside the inn it was so dark that he could not see anything. It was very quiet and not even a leaf stirred. Some birds flying along the road struck Pinocchio on the nose with their wings. He jumped back and cried out with fear, "Who goes there?" The echo of the surrounding hills took up his words and repeated, "Who goes there?" "Who goes there?" "Who goes there?"

As he walked on, he saw on the trunk of a tree a little creature that shone with a pale opaque light, just like a candle behind a globe of transparent porcelain.

"Who are you?" asked Pinocchio.

"I am the Spirit of the Talking Cricket," it replied, with a little voice that seemed to come from another world.

"What do you want with me?"

"I wish to warn you. Go back, with your four gold pieces that you have left, to your papa, who cries and thinks he shall never see you again."

"To-morrow my papa will be a very rich man, because these four pieces will become two thousand."

"Do not trust those who promise to make you rich in one night, my boy. Usually they are mad or deceitful. Listen to me and go back."

"I want to go on."

"The hour is late."

"I want to go on."

"The night is dark."

"I want to go on."

"The road is dangerous."

"I want to go on."

"Remember that boys who always do what they want to will sooner or later repent."

"The same old story! Good night, Cricket."

"Good night, and may you escape from the assassins!"

The Talking Cricket had hardly said these words when he suddenly disappeared, just as if some one had blown the light out, and the road was darker than ever.