The Coyote Under the Table/El Coyote Debajo de la Mesa by Joe Hayes Page A

cabeza y luego le preguntó a su cliente: —Y ¿qué hizo usted con los huevos que compró con el dinero que su amigo le dio?
    El juez se impacientó: —Sabemos eso también. Su esposa los frió. Tienes algo nuevo que revelar o debo emitir mi fallo?
    â€”Antes que haga eso, tata juez —dijo el indio—, quiero preguntarle algo a usted. ¿Me puede prestar una hectárea de terreno para sembrar frijoles?
    Con eso el juez perdió los estribos: —¿De qué estás hablando? —bramó—. Termina con lo que tienes que decir sobre el pleito para que pueda dar mi fallo. Deja de decir disparates.
    El indio dio una cabezadita: —Entiendo —dijo—. Pero le estoy pidiendo que me preste terreno para sembrar estos frijoles. —Señaló los frijoles en la olla—. De estos frijoles voy a sacar una nueva cosecha.
    El juez golpeó con el martillo y gritó: —¡Ya basta de tonterías! Apégate al asunto. ¿Qué tiene una hectárea de terreno que ver con este pleito? No estamos aquí para hablar de sembrar frijoles. Además, ¿dónde se ha visto que se saque una nueva cosecha de frijoles que ya están cocidos?
    El indio se encogió de hombros: —Pero, tata juez —dijo—, creí que si usted estaba de acuerdo con que todos los bienes de mi cliente vinieron de una docena de huevos ya fritos, a lo mejor sería capaz de creer que yo podría sacar otra cosecha de frijoles ya cocidos.
    El juez suspendió su martillo a medio bajar. Meditó un rato. Luego miró a los dos abogados y dijo: —Llévense a su cliente y váyanse de esta corte. Este hombre honrado no le debe más que una docena de huevos.
    â€”¿Olvidó algo sobre los huevos, tata juez? —dijo el indio viejo.
    â€”Oh, sí —agregó el juez—. ¡Que los huevos sean fritos!

 
T HE C OYOTE U NDER T HE T ABLE

    H ere is a story about an old dog and a coyote. The dog belonged to a man and woman who lived on a farm at the edge of a village and for many years he had served his owners well. He had protected their fields and their chickens from wild animals. He had kept thieves away from their house. But now his old legs were so stiff that all he did was lie in the sun beside the door and sleep.
    The dog’s owners were very poor. They had a hard time just making enough from their tiny farm to feed themselves. And of course it was an expense for them to feed the old dog. Now they had a new baby, which would add to their expenses. So one day, as they were leaving the house to go to the field to work, the woman said to her husband, “Why do we keep this old dog around? He does nothing but sleep all day long.”
    The husband said, “You’re right. We can’t afford to keep a dog that doesn’t do any work. This Sunday I’ll take him to the woods and get rid of him.”
    The old dog heard what they said and decided he would run away from the farm. As soon as his owners had left, he struggled to his feet and walked off into the hills. His head hung down and he sobbed softly to himself as he walked along.
    Then, from under a piñon tree, someone called out to him. “Hey, dog,” the voice said, “why are you walking around looking so sad?”
    It was the dog’s old enemy, the coyote. Over the years they’d had many bitter struggles, with the coyote trying to steal chickens from the farm and the dog determined to keep him away. But now, when the dog heard someone speak to him in a friendly voice, he couldn’t hold back his tears.
    â€œAaauuu,” he cried. “They’re going to kill me!”
    The coyote was puzzled. “Why are they going to do that, dog?”
    â€œThey say I’m too o-o-o-ld. They say I can’t work any mo-o-o-re.”
    â€œWell,” said the coyote, “I have noticed that you don’t guard the chickens very well these days.