"O good, dear sir," he cried, "don't let my master get at the lion, or
we shall all be torn to pieces."

"Why," said the gentleman, "is your master so mad that you fear he'll
set upon such a dangerous brute."

"Oh no, sir, he's not mad; he's only rash, very, very rash," cried
Sancho.

"Well," said the gentleman, "I'll see to it," and up he went to Don
Quixote, who was trying to get the keeper to open the cage.

"Sir," said he, "knight-errants ought not to engage in adventures from
which there is no hope of coming off in safety. That is more like
madness than courage. Besides, this is the King's wagon; it will
never do to stop that. And after all, the lion has not been sent
against you; it is a present to the King."

"Pray, sir," cried Don Quixote, "will you attend to your own business?
This is mine, and I know best whether this lion has been sent against
me or not. Now you, sir," he cried to the keeper, "either open that
cage at once, or I'll pin you to your wagon with my spear."

"For mercy's sake, sir," cried the driver, "do but let me take my
mules out of harm's way before the lion gets out. My cart and my mules
are all I have in the world, and I shall be ruined if harm comes to
them."

"Take them out quickly, then," said Don Quixote, "and take them where