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To Chris, my sturdy traveling companion Muchas gracias to Edwin Sulca for telling this story at our dinner table, for his constant hospitality in Ayacucho, and for inspiring so many with his courage and creativity. Abrazos to Martha Castellanos for her firsthand expertise in Andean language and culture, her kind advice, and for her warm encouragement along the way. t CAROLRHODA BOOKS, INC. / MINNEAPOLIS O One day in the high Andes Mountains, Cuy the Guinea Pig was climbing up and down the paths looking for something to eat. But just as he opened his mouth to take a bite of tender sweetgrass, Cuy saw Tío Antonio the Fox coming over the rocks right in front of him—and there was no time to hide! Cuy thought fast. He squeezed under the edge of a great rock and pressed up with his arms. “Aha! Dinner!” snarled Fox, ready to pounce. “Tío Antonio!” cried Cuy. “Haven’t you heard? The sky is falling!” “Nonsense!” growled Tío Antonio, but he couldn’t help looking up. “It looks the same as always!” “That’s because I’m holding it up with this rock,” said Cuy. “I’ve been here all day, and I need to go to the bathroom. Please, will you hold the rock for just a moment?” Fox looked up again. It would be terrible if the sky fell. He crouched under the rock and pushed up with his front legs. “Don’t let go,” warned Cuy, “or we will all be squashed flat.” He disappeared behind some bushes and scurried off to look for more food. By sunset, Tío Antonio couldn’t hold his arms up any longer. “I have to let go, even if the sky falls!” He ducked and let go. Nothing happened. The rock and the sky stayed where they had always been. “I’ll get that guinea pig!” barked Fox, and he bounded down the trail. Cuy had just found another patch of sweetgrass when h