are tied," said Sancho; "what are we to do next?"

"What?" said Don Quixote, "cross ourselves and weigh anchor; I mean,
embark and cut the moorings by which the bark is held;" and the bark
began to drift away slowly from the bank. But when Sancho saw himself
somewhere about two yards out in the river, he began to tremble and give
himself up for lost; but nothing distressed him more than hearing Dapple
bray and seeing Rocinante struggling to get loose, and said he to his
master, "Dapple is braying in grief at our leaving him, and Rocinante is
trying to escape and plunge in after us. O dear friends, peace be with
you, and may this madness that is taking us away from you, turned into
sober sense, bring us back to you." And with this he fell weeping so
bitterly, that Don Quixote said to him, sharply and angrily, "What art
thou afraid of, cowardly creature? What art thou weeping at, heart of
butter-paste? Who pursues or molests thee, thou soul of a tame mouse?
What dost thou want, unsatisfied in the very heart of abundance? Art
thou, perchance, tramping barefoot over the Riphaean mountains, instead
of being seated on a bench like an archduke on the tranquil stream of
this pleasant river, from which in a short space we shall come out upon
the broad sea? But we must have already emerged and gone seven hundred or
eight hundred leagues; and if I had here an astrolabe to take the
altitude of the pole, I could tell thee how many we have travelled,
though either I know little, or we have already crossed or shall shortly
cross the equinoctial line which parts the two opposite poles midway."

"And when we come to that line your worship speaks of," said Sancho, "how
far shall we have gone?"

"Very far," said Don Quixote, "for of the three hundred and sixty degrees
that this terraqueous globe contains, as computed by Ptolemy, the
greatest cosmographer known, we shall have travelled one-half when we
come to the line I spoke of."

"By God," said Sancho, "your worship gives me a nice authority for what
you say, putrid Dolly something transmogrified, or whatever it is."

Don Quixote laughed at the interpretation Sancho put upon "computed," and
the name of the cosmographer Ptolemy, and said he, "Thou must know,
Sancho, that with the Spaniards and those who embark at Cadiz for the
East Indies, one of the signs they have to show them when they have
passed the equinoctial line I told thee of, is, that the lice die upon
everybody on board t