had
heard the squire of the Grove ascribe to his; but without a word the two
squires went in quest of their cattle; for by this time the three horses
and the ass had smelt one another out, and were all together.
On the way, he of the Grove said to Sancho, "You must know, brother, that
it is the custom with the fighting men of Andalusia, when they are
godfathers in any quarrel, not to stand idle with folded arms while their
godsons fight; I say so to remind you that while our masters are
fighting, we, too, have to fight, and knock one another to shivers."
"That custom, sir squire," replied Sancho, "may hold good among those
bullies and fighting men you talk of, but certainly not among the squires
of knights-errant; at least, I have never heard my master speak of any
custom of the sort, and he knows all the laws of knight-errantry by
heart; but granting it true that there is an express law that squires are
to fight while their masters are fighting, I don't mean to obey it, but
to pay the penalty that may be laid on peacefully minded squires like
myself; for I am sure it cannot be more than two pounds of wax, and I
would rather pay that, for I know it will cost me less than the lint I
shall be at the expense of to mend my head, which I look upon as broken
and split already; there's another thing that makes it impossible for me
to fight, that I have no sword, for I never carried one in my life."
"I know a good remedy for that," said he of the Grove; "I have here two
linen bags of the same size; you shall take one, and I the other, and we
will fight at bag blows with equal arms."
"If that's the way, so be it with all my heart," said Sancho, "for that
sort of battle will serve to knock the dust out of us instead of hurting
us."
"That will not do," said the other, "for we must put into the bags, to
keep the wind from blowing them away, half a dozen nice smooth pebbles,
all of the same weight; and in this way we shall be able to baste one
another without doing ourselves any harm or mischief."
"Body of my father!" said Sancho, "see what marten and sable, and pads of
carded cotton he is putting into the bags, that our heads may not be
broken and our bones beaten to jelly! But even if they are filled with
toss silk, I can tell you, senor, I am not going to fight; let our
masters fight, that's their lookout, and let us drink and live; for time
will take care to ease us of our lives, without our going to look for
fillips
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