The discussion of “espíritus,” “espantos” and “el diablo” began with the price of cheese, which has recently gone up in Ajoya. We were in the dark kitchen where the cooking fire, lit in the dark, took the chill out of the dawn air. Sofía was grinding masa on the stone metate while the abuela Micaela patted out tortillas in her old but strangely graceful hands. Blind Ramón, the “jefe de la familia” stood, as ever in the mornings, in the corners supported by his staff. Chón had already left for the milpa, accompanied by the dogs; Tatino had gone to the river to water the burro; but Federico and Everardo still stood around the earth covered pretíl, hands in their pockets, absorbing the heat from the “horno.”

The abuela Micaela asked the prices “para alla” (in the United States); I answered, translating the figures into pesos. Federico asked if we had pesos as well as dollars, and this started the discussion of currency. Money may be a big thing to those who have much, but it can be an even bigger thing to those who have little. How frequently conversation turns to gold and silver, to lost mines and “tesoros escondidos.” But to the poor, this money is a thing of dreams, not of reality, and is inevitably associated with spirits and ghosts and the devil.

In the days before banks were secured to store and expand the gains of “los ricos,” it was the custom to bury for safekeeping one’s gold and one’s silver. Often “el dueño” alone knew where the money was buried. Sometimes he left maps and clues as to the hiding place, but more often he died, sometimes suddenly, leaving no trace of the “dinero enterrado.” It is the dream of “los pobres” of Mexico to win a lottery or discover one of these buried treasures. The folklore is full of tales of such treasure, and of the spirits who guard them.

Looking across the river from Ajoya one sees a dark, rugged group of mountains known as “Los Viejos.” From the highest of these mountains rises a huge tooth of white rock, and on the far side of this rock is said to be an old mine, “muy rica” to which no one dares to go because the mine is “encantada” —and whoever finds it dies.

The spirits of those who have buried gold now lost are said to wander through the pueblos on moonlit nights, searching for their loved ones in order to lead them to the buried money. In Ajoya the ghost of a woman has frequently been seen. Everardo once saw her sitting on the doorstep of the casa. She was dressed in black, her body invisible, so that he saw no more than her clothing and huaraches. Tatino has seen her, too, and so have many others. Sometimes she appears as a skeleton, dressed in black, at other times only her teeth are visible, huge overgrown fangs; and sometimes her long sharp fingernails.. Sometimes she tries to catch hold of people with her long nails, to lift them up and take them to the fortune. But the people always flee her, for they are afraid, She has been seen also by the river at night. But she never harms anyone.

The devil also appears at night, assuming different forms. Most frequently he assumes the form of a black dog, which suddenly grows in size and frightens people, and which enjoys, it seems, blocking narrow trails and forbidding passage. At night children, and sometimes grown-ups too, frequently return from errands unfulfilled because “el diablo” in the form of “el perro negro” was blocking the way.

One night, when old Ramón was young, he was riding past “el panteón” (cemetery) when his horse reared in fright and threw him. When he picked himself up he heard an enormous thundering, and the devil in the form of 50 black horses galloped across the graves of the dead, raising no dust.

The devil, it is said, only harms those who make a “compromiso” with him, selling their souls. The devil has unlimited gold and silver, and will make rich anyone who compromises with him, but in the end he will take his soul.

“In San Ignacio,” continued old Ramón, “there lived a man named Milán whom the devil had made rich, and who built for himself a huge three-story house on the hill above the town. “No ha visto el palacio en la loma de San Ignacio?” (Yes, I had seen it.) “Well, the devil had supplied the gold to build this, mansion, but Milán had sold his soul to the devil, and when the time came to complete the contract and turn over his soul, Milán had told in secret to San Dimas in the mountains. But he could not escape the terms, and one day his body was found, smashed upon rocky ground. The devil had caught him in the night, snatched him around the waist in his huge “uñas” and carried him high into the air. High up, the body slipped from the clutch of the devil and fell upon the rocks below, but the soul of Milán, still pinioned on the devils long nails, was carried off forever into darkness. At the time of Milán’s death, the mine through which the devil had supplied. the gold to Milan, became flooded by a brackish spring which suddenly sprang from nowhere, and a landslide of giant rocks obscured the entrance.

The conversation burned to ways of finding hidden treasures It was pointed out that at certain times of year the air immediately above buried gold “se alumbra” or bursts into flame. Nearly everyone in the village has seen these “llamas” in the hills. I asked if these flames were seen only in the rainy season. “Sí, al comienzo de las aguas,” replied Lico. Cuando habían las nubes grandes y negras sobre los cerros altos.” The flames from buried gold, said old Ramón, would shoot up three times before they disappeared. 1 asked if the flames burned the vegetation. No, was the answer. They were cold.