“Too much, you say? We have given him too much already, seeing that we have given him all that we have,” said the old dame a little angrily.
“Well, what you must do is to give him something that he does not like. Then he will go away,” said the fox.
“Easier said than done,” answered the old woman with spirit. “Did we but give him something of which he liked not the taste, then he would eat ten times more to take the bad taste away. Señor Zorro, with all your cleverness, you are but a poor adviser.”
After that the fox thought a long while before saying anything, then coming close to the old woman and looking up into her face he said:
“Make your mind easy. He shall have enough to eat this very night and all that you have to do is to see that your neighbours do as I say, nor be full of doubt should I do anything that seems to be contrary.”
So the good old woman promised to warn her neighbours, knowing well the wisdom of the fox, and together they went to her house, where they found El Enano stretched out on the floor, looking like a great pig, and every minute he gave a great roar. The neighbours were both angry and afraid, for the creature had been very destructive that day. Indeed, he had taken delight in stripping the thatched roofs and had desisted only when the men of the place had promised to double the amount of his meal.
Not five minutes had the fox and the dame been in the house when the men of the place came in with things—with berries and armadillos, eggs and partridges, turkeys and bread and much fish from the lake. At once they set about cooking, while the women commenced to brew a great bowl of knot-grass tea. Soon the food was cooked and El Enano fell to as greedily as ever.
The fox looked at Enano for a while, then said:
“You have a fine appetite, my friend. What will there be for the men and the women and the children and for me to eat?”
“You may have what I leave, and eat it when I end,” said El Enano.