Read The Coyote Under the Table/El Coyote Debajo de la Mesa for Free Online Page A

young man was delighted too. He said he wasn’t the least bit afraid to do as she asked.
    Later, when she met up with the third young man, she told him, “You surely know that abandoned house at the edge of the town. If you go to the house right at midnight tonight, you’ll see a dead man in a coffin. There will be another ghost in a chair beside the coffin saying prayers. If you are brave enough to dress up like the devil—with your face all blacked with charcoal and cow horns tied to your head—and dance around those dead men all night long, I would enjoy the pleasure of your company.”
    Of course the third young man said he would do it.
    A little before eleven-thirty that night, the girl went to the house. The coffin was there, just as the carpenter had promised. She lit a candle at the head of the coffin and then hid in a back room to see what would happen.
    Sure enough, at eleven-thirty, the first young man arrived at the house. The girl saw him trembling as he climbed into the coffin. Then he pulled a cloth over his face and lay perfectly still.
    Fifteen minutes later, the second young man arrived. He dragged an old chair over near the coffin and began to pray in a quivering voice. The rosary beads rattled in his fingers.
    Suddenly, just at midnight, the young man in the chair looked up and saw the devil come dancing through the door. “Oh, my Lord,” he shouted. “It’s the devil!”
    The first young man jumped up out of the coffin. “You’re not going to get me yet!” he hollered at the devil and went diving out a window.
    When the young man in the devil suit saw what he thought was a dead man jump up out of his coffin and then dive out a window, he spun around and ran right back out the door.
    Down the road they went, the dead man hollering at the top of his voice, “No! No!” and the devil right behind him at every step.
    But the other young man didn’t even get up out of his chair. He just kept praying louder than ever. The girl couldn’t help but be impressed. She came out of her hiding place and said to the young man, “You really are brave. You didn’t run away.”
    The young man turned his white face toward her. “How do you expect me to run?” he asked. “My pants are stuck on a nail!”
    And just then the nail popped out of the chair. The young man fell to the floor face first and then jumped up and ran down the road after the other two.
    The next day the girl told everyone in the village what had happened, and the young men were so embarrassed, they never bothered her again.
    And to this day, in that village when someone has done something that seems to have taken a lot of courage and brags about it, people will say to him, “Maybe you’re brave. Or maybe your pants just got caught on a nail!”

E NGANCHADO EN UN CLAVO

    En un pueblito campesino perdido entre las montañas cuentan un cuento gracioso de tres jóvenes que se enamoraron de la misma chica. A la muchacha no le interesaba ninguno de los tres y por poco la vuelven loca con sus esfuerzos por llamar su atención.
    Casi todas las noches llegaba uno de los jóvenes a pararse fuera de la ventana de la muchacha y cantarle canciones de amor. A veces dos, o hasta los tres, venían en la misma noche. Luego se daban a una competencia de aullar a cuál más recio y desesperado. De día pasaban por su casa a toda carrera en caballos ligeros para impresionarla. Siempre que paseaba por el pueblo, uno de los jóvenes se apresuraba a alcanzarla y entablar una plática u ofrecerle una flor.
    No importaba cuánto los desairara, o les dijera sin rodeos que no le caían bien, no querían dejarla en paz. Finalmente, a ella se le ocurrió la manera de darles una lección.
    Primero, fue al taller del carpintero del pueblo. —¿Cuánto cobras por hacer un ataúd? —le preguntó. Cuando el carpintero le dio el precio,