"Good-bye, Pinocchio," answered the dog; "a thousand thanks for having saved my life. You have done me a great service, and in this world what is given is returned. If an occasion offers I shall not forget it." Pinocchio swam on, keeping always near the land. At last he thought that he had reached a safe place. Giving a look along the shore, he saw amongst the rocks a kind of cave from which a cloud of smoke was ascending. "In that cave," he said to himself, "there must be a fire. So much the better. I will go and dry and warm myself, and then? and then we shall see." Having taken the resolution he approached the rocks, but, as he was going to climb up, he felt something under the water that rose higher and higher and carried him into the air. He tried to escape, but it was too late, for, to his extreme surprise, he found himself enclosed in a great net, together with a swarm of fish of every size and shape, who were flapping and struggling like so many despairing souls. At the same moment a fisherman came out of the cave; he was so ugly, so horribly ugly, that he looked like a sea monster. Instead of hair his head was covered with a thick bush of green grass, his skin was green, his eyes were green, his long beard that came down to the ground was also green. He had the appearance of an immense lizard standing on its hind-paws. When the fisherman had drawn his net out of the sea, he exclaimed with great satisfaction: "Thank Heaven! Again today I shall have a splendid feast of fish!" "What a mercy that I am not a fish!" said Pinocchio to himself, regaining a little courage. The netful of fish was carried into the cave, which was dark and smoky. In the middle of the cave a large frying-pan full of oil was frying and sending out a smell of mushrooms that was suffocating. "Now we will see what fish we have taken!" said the green fisherman, and, putting into the net an enormous hand, so out of all proportion that it looked like a baker's shovel, he pulled out a handful of fish. "These fish are good!" he said, looking at them and smelling them complacently. And after he had smelled them he threw them into a pan without water. He repeated the same operation many times, and as he drew out the fish his mouth watered and he said, chuckling to himself: "What good whiting!" "What exquisite sardines!" "These soles are delicious!" "And these crabs excellent!" "What dear little anchovies!" The last to remain in the net was Pinocchio. No sooner had the fisherman taken him out than he opened his big green eyes with astonishment and cried, half frightened: "What species of fish is this? Fish of this kind I never remember to have eaten." And he looked at him again attentively and, having examined him well all over, he ended by saying: "I know: he must be a craw-fish." Pinocchio, mortified at being mistaken for a craw-fish, said in an angry voice: