Chico was invisible within the tall grass that lay swaying beneath the sun. He had limped painfully for many hours on three legs. In panic and terror, he had chewed off his leg to free himself from the trap. Now he lay watching the cabin just beyond his hiding place in the grass. He licked frequently at the stump of his leg and snapped at the tormenting flies that buzzed lazily about him.

     Once he had freed himself from the trap, Chico fled blindly. His belly was empty and with his thirst mounting he had limped on until his sensitive nose detected the presence of water. His nose had led him here! His raging thirst compelled him to do what no coyote would normally do, but Chico was desperate. He knew that he must have water soon or die! Almost imperceptibly he began to advance, inch by inch, toward the cabin and toward water.

     The temperature rose. The distant horizon shimmered elusively as waves of heat rolled across the land, alternately substituting illusion for reality. The merciless heat punished both man and beast.

     Beneath the floor of the cabin, a dark opening lay that connected the cabin to two things; A passageway to the Sierra Madre Mountains, and, within this, a natural spring of water which formed a small, but deep underground lake.

     Ancient people of the area had known of the existence of this hidden passageway to the mountains. They knew also of the lake within the passageway, and of the gold in the Sierra Madre Mountains.

     Juan's father had been told of the secret passageway by a very old man, a descendant of those Ancient Ones. He had built his cabin over the entrance to conceal it. The water, not the gold, was the precious secret that Juan's father had been determined to protect. This was an arid and barren land. A land that was poor, and whose people were poor and frequently starving.

      Many men in this land became bandits. These roaming bands were feared by all because of their merciless brutality.

      Juan slept on, but was often tossing and turning on the narrow and filthy bunk. He was soon drenched in sweat despite the open door. The cabin had but one window and it gave little light through its accumulated layers of dirt.

     Against one wall was a table and two, battered chairs. The table was still littered with the remains of Juan's meal. There was, besides the table and chairs, a rusting stove. Beside that was a crudely constructed cabinet. It extended the wall's entire length. Beneath it lay the passageway to the Sierra Madre Mountains. Not even the Ancient Ones knew who had made it, whether Gods or men.

     Awakening, Juan rose from the bunk. He slowly began to place his provisions back into his pack. When satisfied that he had left nothing out, he closed the pack securely and walked toward the cabinet. He pulled it forward to reveal the covering, which concealed the stone steps leading down into the passageway. As the cover was removed, cooled subterranean air flowed refreshingly past him. Juan had one final task to perform before descending the steps.

      He left the cabin and slowly walked several hundred feet past it to a spot where three wooden crosses stood. There he bowed his head in silent reverence and said a prayer for his beloved Carmen and his two young sons.

      "Aaah, my Carmen!" A sob choked Juan's voice as he spoke aloud. It was a cry of despair, sorrow, and deep loneliness. "I will avenge you and our sons, no matter how long it takes!" He shook his fist in the air, angrily. He would never stop until he had found and killed the last two murderers. One of them, he knew, had taken Carmen's gold locket, Juan's only gift to her. He felt that, one day, it would point out the murderers.

     Juan lifted his head wearily. As he did, he saw in the distance a cloud of dust rising. As he watched, it grew larger and closer. He knew that it was time once again to flee. With a heavy and lonely heart, Juan walked slowly back to the cabin. Entering, he looked all around one last time to be certain that no trace of him remained. Juan then crawled over the edge to stand while he tugged the cabinet back into place. In total darkness he lowered the covering to the passageway.

      Lighting a candle, Juan began to carefully descend the ancient stone steps. Upon reaching the bottom he could faintly hear the sound of water dripping, echoing from the distance. Unknown to Juan, another pair of keen ears also heard the sound of water dripping.

     Chico had crawled weakly, compelled by his terrible thirst, closer and closer to the cabin where his nose told him lay water! Cautiously he had watched the man's movements within, as he slowly inched forward. When Juan left the cabin and walked out of sight, Chico had entered. He had felt the cool breeze coming from the depths of the earth and had smelled the water there. He entered the opening and painfully descended to the bottom, desperate to reach the life-giving water he had smelled.

     Now, the two of them were deep underground together. Two living creatures, each wounded in different ways by man, and each seeking a justice that might never be found.

     Above, a searing sun tortured the land. Hot, dry winds swept across the plateau, draining the earth of all moisture. No clouds gave relief to the earth, nor to the life which crept upon it. There was no hope of rain. There was only hunger and thirst, and greed, above.

      Below, hidden by a large boulder, Chico watched Juan Pass by holding a candle high overhead to light the pebble-strewn pathway. After a time, when Juan was far enough ahead that darkness engulfed him, Chico followed, limping slowly. His stump no longer bled, but it was becoming infected. He was growing feverish and much weaker.

     Juan sensed that something was different about the passageway. He knew that he was not alone! The hair rose on the back of his neck as he walked. Frequently he turned to look behind him, but he saw nothing. Still, he sensed a presence besides his own in the dim passageway.

      Finally, after many hours of hunger and thirst, and with his strength failing as the infection spread, Chico stumbled and fell. He did not rise. Only a faint movement of his breathing showed there to be yet life in his still form.

      Juan continued to feel uneasy as he walked slowly along. He had survived by being cautious and aware of dangers. Now he was certain that he was NOT alone in this passageway. Quickly, he blew out the candle's flame and stepped closer to the wall. He waited, barely breathing, while he listened intently. He heard no sound at first, then he heard something!

      Breathing! Faint sounding to be sure, but definitely breathing of someone, or some thing!

      Very quietly, Juan turned back toward the sound he had heard and began walking stealthily to avoid making any noise. He was familiar with the passageway and required no light. There! He heard it again, and now he was closer to it. Suddenly, Juan's sandal touched something on the path.

      Like lightening he drew his pistol, demanding loudly, "WHO IS THERE?" He heard only the echo of his own voice. He lit his candle quickly and held it high overhead. At first he saw nothing, then, as he moved the candle, he saw Chico lying crumpled as if dead. Juan knelt down to examine the creature more closely, then he exclaimed, "Why it is only a little coyote!" He brought the candle closer and saw that Chico had but three sound legs, with one ending well above where a paw should have been. He saw that it was very badly infected.

      Compassion for the injured coyote flooded Juan's lonely and sad heart. He reached down and lifted the unconscious creature and draped him across his shoulders and began to carry him. Juan knew that he would need some water to clean the injured leg before he could treat the infection. "It is not very far to the lake now," he spoke to the unconscious Chico, as if he were a hurt child. In remembering, Juan's eyes filled with tears.

      Soon, the two arrived at the lake. Juan gently lowered Chico onto the ground, close to the water's edge. He began opening his pack and removing its contents. He laid them nearby. Then he carefully cleaned Chico's leg. When he had finished, he applied a healing salve to it. He rummaged through his provisions and found pemmican, a nourishing mixture of dried fruits, meats and vegetables, and mixed some with water from the lake. He set it aside to soak for later. "If this little coyote lives, he will need water and he will need food, too." Juan spoke aloud.

      He sat and rested and thought for a long time, then he spoke, even though there was no one to hear him. "This little coyote had very, very great courage to have sacrificed his leg for his liberty!" Continuing to speak, he vowed solemnly, "I will MAKE him to live!" He sat then, stroking Chico's silky coat and crooning softly to him, as he had once crooned to his young sons.

      Many years later, in a small dusty village not far from there, an old man walked slowly down the street. By his side limped a three-legged coyote.

      Both man and coyote were very old and gray. The man purchased his supplies there and he paid for his purchases with gold. Afterwards, the old man and the old coyote just seemed to vanish, or so the townspeople all say.

      One day after the old man and his coyote had completed their mission and were walking slowly away, two men from the village followed them. They stayed far behind so that the old man would not see them. One of these men wore around his neck a gold locket.

       Miguel spoke. "Amigo, it is just not right that one so ancient should be roaming about all alone, with all that gold, and with only a three-legged coyote for a friend!"

      "Si," replied Pablo. "Gold is wasted on such as him." Pablo laughed then as he fingered the gold locket he wore around his dirty, sun-weathered neck. He continued, "Do you think he has found a very rich vein of gold?"

      "Could be, could be!" Miguel replied. "You know, Amigo, I believe that such a man would surely be very grateful to have good friends to help him look after his gold. There are bandits who would cut his throat for his gold," he said, chuckling as if he had just spoken something very amusing.

      The two men continued to speak about the old man's gold. As they walked and talked, they became more and more excited at the prospect of their fantasy actually happening. Soon, they believed their own lies. They came to believe that they were really going to offer the old man their friendship. They believed that, once they did, the old man's gratitude would be such that he would reward them with some of his gold.

      Neither man knew that Juan had certainly seen the gold locket that had belonged to his wife, Carmen, worn now on the neck of Pablo. He had seen, and he remembered them. Unfortunately for them, they did not remember Juan!

      The two men lost track of time as they followed the old man's and the coyote's tracks in the sand. The sun climbed higher in the sky. It grew hotter and hotter. The men grew thirsty in the heat. Even their sweat soon evaporated, giving little relief. There was no tree, no cloud, nothing to provide them with shade; there was only a barren and unforgiving land.

      Their steps became slower and slower as they forced themselves forward.

      "When did the tracks end, Miguel?" Pablo spoke hoarsely from dry and cracked lips. Miguel, who was so thirsty that his tongue had swollen, could not speak, but only shook his head in exhausted bewilderment.

      High overhead, a single vulture circled very slowly and patiently, always descending ever closer, and closer, soon to attend to his profession with great skill and efficiency.

      Some distance away, a flat-topped rock of sandstone lay. Beneath it is an underground passageway, known only to the Ancient Ones. If you should chance to be passing by a certain sandstone rock, on the plateau that borders the Sierra Madre Mountains, you might hear an old man's voice, chuckling softly, and the eerie howl of a coyote drifting on the wind.

      A wind that, for some, blows hope away...

       Or so THE LEGEND was told to me.