swered his master, "with the long
arms, which in such creatures are sometimes two leagues in length."

"What is your honor thinking of?" cried Sancho. "Those are not giants,
but windmills, and their arms, as you call them, are the sails, which,
being driven by the wind, set the millstones going."

"'Tis plain," said Don Quixote, "that thou hast still much to learn in
our school of adventures. I tell thee they are giants, and if thou art
afraid, keep out of the way and pass the time in prayer while I am
engaged with them in fierce and unequal battle."

Saying this, he set spurs to Rozinante, and turning a deaf ear to the
cries of Sancho, who kept repeating that the supposed giants were
nothing but windmills, he thundered across the plain, shouting at the
top of his voice: "Fly not, ye cowardly loons, for it is only a single
knight who is coming to attack you!"

Just at this moment there came a puff of wind, which set the sails in
motion; seeing which, Don Quixote cried: "Ay, swing your arms! If ye had
more of them than Briareos himself, I would make you pay for it." Then,
with a heartfelt appeal to his lady Dulcinea, he charged full gallop at
the nearest mill, and pierced the descending sail with his lance. The
weapon was shivered to pieces, and horse and rider, caught by the sweep
of the sail, were sent rolling with great violence across the plain.

"Heaven preserve us!" cried Sancho, who had followed as fast as his ass
could trot, and found his master lying very still by the side of his
steed. "Did I not warn your honor that those things were windmills and
not giants at all? Surely none could fail to see it, unless he had such
another whirligig in his own pate!"

"Be silent, good Sancho!" replied Don Quixote, "and know that the things
of war, beyond all others, are subject to continual mutation. Moreover,
in the present case I think, nay, I am sure, that an alien power has
been at work, even that wicked enchanter Friston; he it is who has
changed those giants into windmills to rob me of the honor of their
defeat. But in the end all his evil devices shall be baffled by my good
sword."

"Heaven grant that it may be so!" said Sancho, assisting him to rise;
and the knight then remounted Rozinante, whose shoulders were almost
splayed by his fall, and turned his face towards the Puerto Lapice, a
rugged mountain pass through which ran the main road from Madrid to
Andalusia; for such a place, he thought, could not fail