When the fight with the Biscayan was over, Sancho, who had been knocked flat by the friars’ servants, got to his feet. All through the fight he had been praying silently that his master would win, so that he could have the island he had been promised. As Don Quixote went to mount Rocinante again, Sancho knelt before him and kissed his hand. “Master, please give me the island you’ve won in this hard fight. However big it is, I’m sure I can govern it as well as anyone who ever governed an island.”
Don Quixote replied. “Brother Sancho, mark this well. This adventure and the ones like it are crossroads adventures, not island adventures. All anyone wins in them is a cracked skull or one ear short. Be patient. An adventure will soon come where I can make you a governor, and more than that.”
Sancho thanked him, kissed his hand and the hem of his mail again, and helped him onto his horse. When Don Quixote rode into a nearby wood without a word of farewell, Sancho urged his donkey on, caught up at last, and gasped for breath. “Master, we’d better hide in a church somewhere. That man was hurt so badly the Santa Hermandad is bound to hear of it, and if they catch us we’ll sweat buckets before we get out of jail.”