who is so fat that he weighs twenty stone challenged another, a neighbour
of his, who does not weigh more than nine, to run a race. The agreement
was that they were to run a distance of a hundred paces with equal
weights; and when the challenger was asked how the weights were to be
equalised he said that the other, as he weighed nine stone, should put
eleven in iron on his back, and that in this way the twenty stone of the
thin man would equal the twenty stone of the fat one."

"Not at all," exclaimed Sancho at once, before Don Quixote could answer;
"it's for me, that only a few days ago left off being a governor and a
judge, as all the world knows, to settle these doubtful questions and
give an opinion in disputes of all sorts."

"Answer in God's name, Sancho my friend," said Don Quixote, "for I am not
fit to give crumbs to a cat, my wits are so confused and upset."

With this permission Sancho said to the peasants who stood clustered
round him, waiting with open mouths for the decision to come from his,
"Brothers, what the fat man requires is not in reason, nor has it a
shadow of justice in it; because, if it be true, as they say, that the
challenged may choose the weapons, the other has no right to choose such
as will prevent and keep him from winning. My decision, therefore, is
that the fat challenger prune, peel, thin, trim and correct himself, and
take eleven stone of his flesh off his body, here or there, as he
pleases, and as suits him best; and being in this way reduced to nine
stone weight, he will make himself equal and even with nine stone of his
opponent, and they will be able to run on equal terms."

"By all that's good," said one of the peasants as he heard Sancho's
decision, "but the gentleman has spoken like a saint, and given judgment
like a canon! But I'll be bound the fat man won't part with an ounce of
his flesh, not to say eleven stone."

"The best plan will be for them not to run," said another, "so that
neither the thin man break down under the weight, nor the fat one strip
himself of his flesh; let half the wager be spent in wine, and let's take
these gentlemen to the tavern where there's the best, and 'over me be the
cloak when it rains."

"I thank you, sirs," said Don Quixote; "but I cannot stop for an instant,
for sad thoughts and unhappy circumstances force me to seem discourteous
and to travel apace;" and spurring Rocinante he pushed on, leaving them
wondering at what they had seen and