to its own
shape again, and meanwhile I will wear it as it is, for half a helmet is
better than none.'

'And what,' inquired Sancho, 'shall we do with the grey horse that looks
so like an ass? The beast is a good beast.'

'Leave the ass or horse, whichever it pleases you to call it,' replied
the Don, 'for no knight ever takes the steed of his foe, unless it is
won in fair fight. And perchance, when we have ridden out of sight, its
master will come back and seek for it.'

Sancho, however, was not overmuch pleased by this speech.

'Truly the laws of chivalry are strict,' he grumbled, 'if they will not
let a man change one donkey for another! And is it forbidden to change
the pack-saddle also?'

'Of that I am in doubt,' replied Don Quixote; 'and until I have certain
information on this point, if your need is great, you may take what you
need.'

Sancho hardly expected such good fortune to befall him, and stripping
the ass of his harness he speedily put it upon his own beast, and then
laid out the dinner he had stolen from the sumpter mule for himself and
his master.

Not long after this event, as Don Quixote and his squire were riding
along the road, discoursing as they went of matters of chivalry, they
saw approaching them from a distance a dozen men or more, with iron
chains round their necks, stringing them together like beads on a
rosary, and bearing iron fetters on their hands. By their side were two
men on horseback carrying firelocks, and two on foot with swords and
spears.

'Look!' cried Sancho Panza, 'here come a gang of slaves, sent to the
galleys by the king.'

'What is that you say--_sent_?' asked Don Quixote. 'Can any king _send_
his subjects where they have no mind to go?'

'They are men who have been guilty of many crimes,' replied the squire,
'and to punish them they are being led by force to the galleys.'

'They go,' inquired Don Quixote, 'by force and not willingly?'

'You speak truly,' answered Sancho Panza.

'Then if that is so,' said the knight, 'it is my duty to set them free.'

'But think a moment, your worship,' cried Sancho, terrified at the
consequences of this new idea; 'they are bad men, and deserve punishment
for the crimes they have committed.'

Don Quixote was silent. In fact, he had heard nothing of what his squire
had said. Instead he rode up to the galley-slaves, who by this time were
quite near, and politely begged one of the soldiers who had charge of
them to tell him