Chapter 3 HOW DON QUIXOTE RESCUED ANDRES; AND HOW HE RETURNED HOME

As he rode along in the early morning light, Don Quixote began to think that it would be well that he should return home for a little, there to lay in a stock of money and of clean shirts, and he turned his willing horse's head in the direction of his village.

But ere he had gone far on his way, coming from a thicket he fancied that he heard cries of distress.

"Certainly these are the moans of some poor creature in want of help," thought Don Quixote. "I thank Heaven for so soon giving me the chance to perform my duty as a knight."

And he rode quickly towards the sounds. No sooner had he reached the wood than he saw a horse tied to a tree, and bound to another was a lad of fifteen, all naked above the waist. By his side stood a countryman beating him with a strap, and with every blow calling out, "I'll teach you to keep your eyes open, you young scamp. I'll teach you to keep your mouth shut."

The boy howled with pain. Quickly Don Quixote rode up to the man.

"Sir Knight," said he angrily, "I would have thee to know that it is an unworthy act to strike one who cannot defend himself. Mount thy steed, therefore, take thy spear, and I will teach thee that thou art a coward."

The countryman gave himself up for lost, and he gasped out very humbly that the boy was his servant, through whose carelessness many of the sheep that he should have watched had been lost, and that therefore he was giving him a sound beating. "And," said he, "because I beat him for his carelessness, he says I do it to cheat him out of his wages."

"What!" shouted Don Quixote, "do you dare to lie to me? By the sun above us, I have a mind to run you through with my spear. Pay the boy this instant, and let him go free. What does he owe you, boy?"

The boy said that the man owed him nine months' wages.

"Pay at once, you scoundrel, unless you want to be killed," roared Don Quixote.

The poor man, trembling with fear, said that there was a mistake; he did not owe nearly so much, and besides, he had no money with him. But if Andres would go home with him he would pay every penny.

"Go home with him!" cried the boy. "I know a trick worth two of that. No sooner will he have me home than he'll take the skin off me. No, no, not I!"

"He will not dare to touch you," said the Knight. "I command him, and that is enough. If he swears by his order of knighthood to do this thing, I will let him go, and he will pay you your wages."

"Of course I will," said the man. "Come along with me. Andres, and I swear I'll give you all I owe."

"Remember, then, what you have promised, for I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, the righter of wrongs, and it is at your peril to disobey me."

So saying, Don Quixote clapped spurs to his horse, and galloped off through the trees.

The countryman watched till the Knight was out of sight. Then, turning, he said "Come, my lad, and I'll pay thee what I owe, and more."

"Ay," answered the boy, "see that you do, for if you do not, that brave man will come back and make you."

"I dare swear that," said the man. "And just to show how much I love you, I am going to increase the debt, so that I may pay you more. Come here!"

And with that he caught the boy by the arm, tied him again to the tree, and belted him till his arm was tired.

"Now go," he said, "and tell your righter of wrongs. I wish I had flayed you alive, you young whelp."

And so ended Don Quixote's first attempt to right wrongs.

As the Knight cantered along, very well pleased with himself, about two miles from where he had freed the boy he saw riding towards him six men, each shading himself under a large umbrella. With them were four mounted servants, and three on foot.

No sooner did Don Quixote see this party than it struck him that here was the chance for which, above all others, he had been longing.

Posting himself in the middle of the road, he waited till the men were at no great distance. Then, "Halt!" shouted he. "Let all know that no man shall pass further till he owns that in the whole world there is no damsel more beautiful than the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso."

"But," said the men (who were merchants of Toledo, on their way to buy silks), "we do not know the lady. We have never seen her. How then can we say that she is beautiful?"

"What!" roared Don Quixote in a terrible rage, "not know the beauteous Lady Dulcinea del Toboso! That only makes matters worse. Do you dare to argue?"

And with that he couched his spear, drove his spurs into "Rozinante," and rode furiously at the nearest merchant.

What he would have done it is not possible to say. But as he galloped, it chanced that "Rozinante" stumbled and fell heavily, rolling Don Quixote over and over. There the Knight lay helpless, the weight of his armor preventing him from rising to his feet. But as he lay, he continued to cry out at the top of his voice, "Stop, you rascals! Do not fly. It is my horse's fault that I lie here, you cowards!"

One of the grooms, hearing his master called a rascal and a coward, thereupon ran up and snatched away Don Quixote's spear, which he broke in pieces. Then with each piece he belabored the poor Knight till the broken lance flew into splinters. The merchants then rode away, leaving Don Quixote lying where he fell, still shouting threats, but quite unable to rise.

There he was found by a man who knew him well, and who with great difficulty mounted him on his donkey and took him home. When at last they reached Don Quixote's house, the poor Knight was put to bed, where he lay for many days, raving, and very ill.

During this time the Curate of the village and the Barber came and burned nearly all the books which Don Quixote had so loved.

"For," said they, "it is by reading these books that the poor gentleman has lost his mind, and if he reads them again he will never get better."

So a bonfire was made of the books, and the door of Don Quixote's study was bricked up.

When the Knight was again able to go about, he made at once for his study and his beloved books. Up and down the house he searched without saying a word, and often he would stand where the door of the study used to be, feeling with his hands and gazing about. At last he asked his housekeeper to show him the study.

"Study!" cried the woman, "what study? There is no study in this house now, nor any books."

"No," said his niece. "When you were away, a famous enchanter came along, mounted on a dragon, and he went into your study. What he did there we know not. But after a time he flew out of the roof, leaving the house full of smoke, and ever since then we have not been able to find either books or study."

"Ha!" said Don Quixote. "That must have been Freston. He is a famous enchanter, and my bitter enemy. But when I am again well I shall get the better of him."