oak-tree, or at least tore down a great branch, and with it did such
wonderful deeds that he was ever after called 'The Bruiser.' I tell
you this because I intend to tear up the next oak-tree we meet, and
you may think yourself fortunate that you will see the deeds I shall
perform with it."

"Heaven grant you may!" said Sancho. "But, an' it please you, sit a
little more upright in your saddle; you are all to one side. But that,
mayhap, comes from your hurts?"

"It does so," answered Don Quixote, "and if I do not complain of the
pain, it is because a knight-errant must never complain of his wounds,
though they be killing him."

"I have no more to say," replied Sancho. "Yet Heaven knows I should be
glad to hear your honor complain a bit, now and then, when something
ails you. For my part, I always cry out when I'm hurt, and I am glad
the rule about not complaining doesn't extend to squires."

That night they spent under the trees, from one of which Don Quixote
tore down a branch, to which he fixed the point of his spear, and in
some sort that served him for a lance. Don Quixote neither ate nor
slept all the night, but passed his time, as he had learned from his
books that a knight should do, in thoughts of the Lady Dulcinea. As
for Sancho Panza, he had brought with him a big bottle of wine, and
some food in his wallet, and he stuffed himself as full as he could
hold, and slept like a top.

As they rode along next day, they came to the Pass of Lapice.