Free Latin American Folktales by John Bierhorst Page A

Then the husband explained about the brother-in-law. Mena, for that was the woman’s name, took a liking to Antuco and thanked him from the bottom of her heart.
    “Don’t mention it,” said Antuco. “It’s an honor to be godfather to your little son and compadre to such a fine woman as yourself.”
    The priest arrived and the baptism was performed. Then everybody sat down for chicken stew and some deep draughts of chicha, drinking to the health of the new baby.
    During the meal Antuco told his dream of the night before and said with a laugh that it had come true, since already he had been asked to do a favor.
    “Bah!” said Mena. “Such silliness! If dreams came true my husband would have found a pile of gold coins and precious stones by now.”
    “Is that so!” said Antuco.
    “Oh yes,” said the husband. “Just think! For three days I dreamed every night that a genie came to me and told me there was a spur on the side of the mountain where I’d find a dead hawthorn with three branches in the form of a cross, and buried at the foot of this tree would be a ball of red yarn. And if I’d tie the yarn to the tree and throw the ball over my shoulder it would lead me to an underground passage where I’d find a chest full of gold and jewels. Imagine, compadre! Where in the world would you find this famous hawthorn? Mena is right. It’s silliness.”
    Antuco sat listening. He knew exactly the place in the mountains where there was a hawthorn shaped like a cross. And what had the old woman promised him? He made up his mind to leave as soon as possible. No need to explain to the compadres. They would only make fun of him. He simply told them he had decided not to join the military after all and would be looking for work at another ranch, and it would be better for him to start that afternoon instead of spending the night. He asked to borrow their horse. “I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”
    Then he left the house and rode full speed toward the spot in the mountains where the hawthorn grew.
    It was night when he got there. But the moon was shining and he had no trouble finding the tree. He hitched the horse to a boulder and unsheathed his knife, then he began to dig. He lifted out a piece of leather. Wrapped inside it was a ball of red yarn that looked as if it had been soaked in blood. He tied the yarn to the tree, just as his compadre had said, and gave the ball a toss. As it bounced and rolled, he ran after it until it stopped beside three stones.
    He picked up the ball, which was still quite hefty, and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he began to pull at the stones. As he moved the first stone he heard rumbling inside the earth. He moved the second, and the ground shook. Then he moved the third, and a genie rose up surrounded by flames. The genie sprang toward him, nearly scaring him out of his wits, and to defend himself he threw the first thing that came to hand, which was nothing more than the ball of yarn.
    The genie fell to the ground as if he had been hit with a hammer, and in that moment Antuco knew the yarn had power. As he was about to tie him up, the genie said, “Little master, don’t tie me with that yarn. Let me be your servant. I am the guardian of the treasure, which I must hand over to the owner of the ball of yarn.”
    “Then get up,” said Antuco, “and take me to the treasure.”
    The genie stood up. The two of them walked down a staircase into the earth, and there was a chest full of jewels and gold pieces. Antuco started to fill his pockets, but the genie said, “Little master, don’t exert yourself. I’ll carry the chest wherever you want it. As long as you hold the red yarn, I am your servant. Whatever you wish, command me.”
    “I command that we be transported to a palace in Santiago. And I command that this horse be returned to my compadres with a bag full of gold.” In that instant Antuco and the genie were in a palace on the Alameda in Santiago. Such furnishings you’ve never