56
Poor Cecco
was very blue, with little white clouds racing across it like flocks of sheep. The water made a pleasant drowsy ripple against the boat, and Bulka began to get sleepy. His bath too had tired him out, and before he knew it he was snoring aloud.
“That’s not such a bad idea either!” thought Poor Cecco. And he steered the boat into a little bay, right under the shade of some huge burdock leaves, and folded his legs under him and went to sleep beside Bulka on the deck.
