tter, and proceeded to make
ready two linen bags, both of the same size, saying they could fight
their duel in this fashion. This was most pleasing to Sancho, until he
perceived the other squire filling the bags with pebbles, when he
remonstrated, saying he thought their masters could settle the whole
affair without their interference. But his friend the squire insisted
that they fight, even if it should be only for half an hour, and
offered--if he should have any difficulty in rousing himself to the
occasion--to give Sancho a few cudgels and whacks to act as an
inspiration.

By this time it was beginning to dawn, and Sancho was watching the
sunrise. As he looked around, the first object that he saw the sunrays
strike was the nose of the squire of the Grove, protruding out of the
opened visor of his helmet. It was an object so fearful to look at
that Sancho Panza was paralyzed with fright. The nose was so large it
seemed uncanny. It was covered with warts and was bent at a tremendous
angle, and it hung down way beneath his chin, while its color was that
of an eggplant. It was a face so horrible and ugly to look at that
Sancho's eyes nearly rolled out of his head. He acted as if he were
about to have convulsions, for he began to tremble from head to foot.
When Don Quixote beheld the squire's countenance, even he began to
show signs of feebleness, but his bravery overcame his fears. He
shrugged his shoulders as if shaking off an evil spirit, and was ready
for the combat with his adversary.

Before the battle began, Sancho pleaded with his master to help him up
into a tree; so afraid was he of this monstrous squire with the awful
nose. But while Don Quixote was hoisting his faithful one up into a
cork-tree, he suddenly heard the knight approach on his steed behind
him, and not knowing whether it was squire or master, and being
subconsciously afraid of the nose, one blow of which might have felled
him, it seemed, he turned around and made straight for the knight.

The facts were that this gentleman was trying to limber up the joints
of his charger--a hack of the same caliber as Rocinante--and was just
taking his horse on a tour of exercise, making him skip hither and
thither, wherever his master's agonized spurring would carry him. Each
time he would land heavily on his stiff legs, and it was when Don
Quixote suddenly heard the sound of such a landing behind him that he
turned. But by the time Rocinante had completed the