Some took a nibble, some took a bite, but no sooner had they tasted a page or two, than they spat them out with a wry face, as if to say: "What a horrid taste! Our own food is so much better!" Meanwhile, the battle waxed more and more furious.

At the noise, a large Crab crawled slowly out of the water and, with a voice that sounded like a trombone suffering from a cold, he cried out: "Stop fighting, you rascals! These battles between boys rarely end well.
Trouble is sure to come to you!" Poor Crab! He might as well have spoken to the wind.

Instead of listening to his good advice, Pinocchio turned to him and said as roughly as he knew how: "Keep quiet, ugly Gab! It would be better for you to chew a few cough drops to get rid of that cold you have.

Go to bed and sleep! You will feel better in the morning." In the meantime, the boys, having used all their books, looked around for new ammunition.

Seeing Pinocchio's bundle lying idle near-by, they somehow managed to get hold of it.
One of the books was a very large volume, an arithmetic text, heavily bound in leather.