the middle they began to lay on with great zeal and energy; in fact, at the second blow they brought Sancho to the ground, and Don Quixote fared the same way, all his skill and high mettle availing him nothing, and fate willed it that he should fall at the feet of Rocinante, who had not yet risen; whereby it may be seen how furiously stakes can pound in angry boorish hands.
Then, seeing the mischief they had done, the Yanguesans with all the haste they could loaded their team and pursued their journey, leaving the two adventurers a sorry sight and in sorrier mood.
Sancho was the first to come to, and finding himself close to his master he called to him in a weak and doleful voice, “Señor Don Quixote, ah, Señor Don Quixote!”
“What wouldst thou, brother Sancho?” answered Don Quixote in the same feeble suffering tone as Sancho.
“I would like, if it were possible,” answered Sancho Panza, “your worship to give me a couple of sups of that potion of the fiery Blas, if it be that you have any to hand there; perhaps it will serve for broken bones as well as for wounds.”
“If I only had it here, wretch that I am, what more should we want?” said Don Quixote; “but I swear to thee, Sancho Panza, on the faith of a knight-errant, ere two days are over, unless fortune orders otherwise, I mean to have it in my possession, or my hand will have lost its cunning.”
“But in how many does your worship think we shall have the use of our feet?” answered Sancho Panza.
“For myself I must say I cannot guess how many,” said the battered knight Don Quixote; “but I take all the blame upon myself, for I had no business to put hand to sword against men who where not dubbed