uld it chance to come that
way, he began to bawl so loud and to call for help so vehemently, that
all who heard him and did not see him thought verily he was between the
teeth of some wild beast. The tusked boar, however, was soon laid at
length by the numerous spears that were levelled at him from all sides,
at which time Sancho's cries and lamentations reached the ears of Don
Quixote, who, turning round, beheld him hanging from the oak with his
head downwards, and close by him stood Dapple, who never forsook him in
adversity,--indeed, it was remarked by Cid Hamet, that he seldom saw
Sancho Panza without Dapple, or Dapple without Sancho Panza, such was
the amity and cordial love that subsisted between them!

Don Quixote hastened to the assistance of his squire, who was no sooner
released than he began to examine the rent in his hunting suit, which
grieved him to the soul, for he looked upon that suit as a rich
inheritance.

The huge animal they had slain was laid across a sumpter-mule, and after
covering it with branches of rosemary and myrtle, they carried it, as
the spoils of victory, to a large field-tent, erected in the midst of
the wood, where a sumptuous entertainment was prepared, worthy of the
magnificence of the donor. Sancho, showing the wounds of the torn
garments to the Duchess, said: "Had hares or birds been our game, I
should not have had this misfortune. For my part I cannot think what
pleasure there can be in beating about for a monster that, if it reaches
you with a tusk, may be the death of you. There is an old ballad which
says,--

"'May fate of Fabila be thine,
And make thee food for bears or swine.'"

"That Fabila," said Don Quixote, "was a king of the Goths, who, going to
the chase, was devoured by a bear."

"What I mean," quoth Sancho, "is, that I would not have kings and other
great folks run into such dangers merely for pleasure; and, indeed,
methinks it ought to be none to kill poor beasts that never meant any
harm."

"You are mistaken, Sancho," said the duke, "hunting wild beasts is the
most proper exercise for knights and princes. The chase is an image of
war: there you have stratagems, artifices, and ambuscades to be
employed, in order to overcome your enemy with safety to yourself.
There, too, you are often exposed to the extremes of cold and heat;
idleness and ease are despised; the body acquires health and vigorous
activity: in short, it is an exercise which may be beneficial