"Why, master," said Sancho, "there must be two armies there, for yonder is just such another cloud of dust."
The knight looked, and was overjoyed, believing that two armies were about to meet and fight in the plain.
"What are we to do, master?" asked Sancho.
"Do!" said Don Quixote, "why, what can we do but help the weaker side? Look yonder, Sancho, that knight whom thou seest in the gilded armory with a lion crouching at the feet of a lady painted on his shield, that is the valiant Laurcalco. That other, the giant on his right, Brandabarbaran." And he ran over a long list of names of knights whom he believed that he saw.
Sancho listened, as dumb as a fish; but at last he gasped. "Why, master, you might as well tell me that it snows. Never a knight, nor a giant, nor a man can I see."
"How!" answered Don Quixote, "canst thou not hear their horses neigh, and their drums beating?"
"Drums!" said Sancho. "Not I! I hear only the bleating of sheep."
"Since you are afraid," said the Knight, "stand aside, and I will go by myself to fight."
With that, he galloped down on to the plain, shouting, leaving Sancho bawling to him, "Hold, sir! Stop! For Heaven's sake come back. As sure as I'm a sinner, they are only harmless sheep. Come back, I say."
But Don Quixote, paying not the least heed, galloped on furiously and charged into the middle of the sheep, spearing them right and left, trampling the living and the dead under "Rozinante's" feet. The shepherds, finding that he took no notice of their shouts, now hurled stones at him from their slings, and one big stone presently hit the Knight fair in his ribs and doubled him up in the saddle.