In the teahouse, some soldiers were boasting about their recent
campaign. The local inhabitants crowded eagerly around them to
listen.
   ‘And’, one fearsome-looking warrior was saying, ‘I took my
double-edged sword and charged the enemy, scattering them to
right and left like chaff. We carried the day.’
   There was gasp of applause.
   ‘That reminds me’, said Nasrudin, who had seen a few battles 
in his time, ‘of the time when I cut off the leg of an enemy on the
battlefield. Severed right through.’
   ‘You would have done better, sir,’ replied the captain of the 
soldiers, ‘to have cut off his head.’
   ‘That would have been impossible,’ said the Mulla. ‘You see,
someone already had done that.’