ERNEST HEMINGWAY. For Whom the Bell Tolls CHAPTER 2

ERNEST HEMINGWAY. For Whom the Bell Tolls CHAPTER 2

They had made it through the dense grove to the top where the valley ended, a bucket-shaped valley, and Jordan suspected that the camp must be on the other side of the rock face behind the trees.

The camp was indeed there, and it was first-rate. It could not be seen until there was one above it, and from the air it could not be located. Nothing could be discovered from above. It was as well hidden as a bear cave. And, more or less, so badly guarded. Jordan watched him carefully as they got closer.

There was a large cave in the rock face, and at the foot of the cave entrance he saw a man sitting with his back against the rock and his legs lying on the ground. The man had left his rifle leaning against the wall and was cutting a stick with a knife. When he saw them arrive, he stared at them for a moment and then continued with his work.

"Hello! he said. Who's coming?

"The old man and a dynamiter," said Pablo, depositing his bundle by the entrance of the cave.

Anselmo took the weight off his shoulders and Jordan took off his carbine and left it leaning against the rock.

"Don't leave this so close to the cave," said the man who was cutting the stick. He was a good-looking gypsy, with an oiled face and blue eyes that formed a sharp contrast on that dark face. There is fire inside.

"Get up and put them up yourself," Paul said. Put them here, at the foot of this tree.

The gypsy did not move; but he said something that cannot be written, adding:

"Leave them where they are, and thus receive; with this all your ills will be cured.

"What are you doing?" Jordan asked, sitting down next to the gypsy, who showed himself to him. It was a rectangle-shaped trap and it was cutting the crossbar.

"It's for foxes," he said. This stick kills them. It breaks their backs. He winked at Jordan. You see; like this. "He made the trap work so that the stick sank; then he shook his head and opened his arms to see how the fox was left with a broken backbone. Very practical," he said.

"The only thing he hunts are rabbits," said Anselmo. He is a gypsy. If he hunts rabbits, he says they are foxes. If I were to hunt a fox by chance, I would say it was an elephant.

"What if I hunted an elephant?" asked the gypsy and, showing his white teeth again, winked at Jordan.

"You'd say it was a tank," Anselmo said.

"I'll get the tank," replied the gypsy; I'll get the tank, and you can give it whatever name you like.

"The gypsies talk a lot and do little," said Anselmo. The gypsy hit Jordan and continued to cut his stick.

Pablo had disappeared inside the cave and Jordan trusted that he had gone to eat. Sitting on the ground next to the gypsy, he let the afternoon sun, sneaking through the treetops, warm his legs, which he had stretched out. From the cave came the smell of food, the smell of onions and oil and fried meat, and his stomach quivered with need.

"We can catch a tank," Jordan said to the gypsy. It's not too difficult. "With this?" asked the gypsy, pointing to the two bundles.

"Yes," Jordan replied. I'll show you. You have to cheat, but it's not too difficult.

"You and me?"

"Sure," Jordan said. Why not?

"Hey! said the gypsy to Anselmo. Put these two sacks where they are safe; Do yourself a favor. They have a lot of value.

Anselm resounded:

I'll get wine."

Jordan got up, pushed the bundles away from the cave entrance, leaving one on each side of a tree trunk. He knew what was there and he didn't like them being too close together.

"Bring a vase for me," said the gypsy.

"Have you come here?" Jordan asked, sitting down next to the gypsy again.

"Wine?" That there is. A full skin. Half a skin at least.

"And is there anything to eat?"

"All you want, man," replied the gypsy. Here we live as generals.

"And what do the gypsies do in time of war?" Jordan asked.

"They're still gypsies.

"It's not a bad job.

"The best of all," said the gypsy. What's your name?

"Robert. And you?

"Rafael." Is what you say about the tank serious?

"Of course it's serious. Why wouldn't it be?

Anselmo came out of the cave with a stone vessel filled to the brim with red wine, carrying in one hand three cups held by the handles.

"Here it is," he said; They have cups and everything.

Pablo came out after him.

"The food is coming soon," he announced. Do you have tobacco?

Jordan got up, went to the sacks and, opening one, felt with his hand until he reached an inside pocket, from where he took out one of the metal boxes of cigarettes that the Russians had given to Golz's headquarters. He ran his thumbnail over the edge of the lid and, opening the box, offered it to Pau, who took half a dozen cigarettes. Holding the cigarettes in the palm of one of his huge hands, Pablo lifted one in the air and looked at it against the light. They were long, thin cigarettes, with a cardboard filter.

"Very air and little tobacco," he said. I know them. The other, the one with the strange name, also had it.

"Kashkin," Jordan said, and offered cigarettes to the gypsy and Anselmo, who took one each.

"Take more," he said, and they took another. Jordan gave four more to each and then they, cigarettes in hand, waved, thanking each other as if brandishing a saber.

"Yes," said Paul, "it was a very strange name.

"Here's the wine," Anselmo recalled.

He put one of the cups in the container and held it out to Jordan. Then he filled another for the gypsy and another for himself.

"Is there no wine for me?" Pablo asked.

Anselmo offered him his cup and went to the cave in search of another for himself. When he returned, he bent over the container, filled his cup, and then everyone toasted, clashing the edges.

The wine was good; It tasted slightly like resin, due to the skin of the gold, but it was fresh and excellent on the palate.

"The food comes right away," Pablo insisted. How did he die?

"They caught him and he committed suicide.

"How did this happen?"

"He was wounded and did not want to be taken prisoner.

"But what were the details like?"

"I don't know," Jordan said, lying.

"He asked us to promise to kill him in case he was wounded, when this was the case, and he couldn't escape," Pablo said.

"He must have been very agitated then," Jordan thought. Poor Kashkin!"

"He had I don't know what scruples about committing suicide," Pablo explained. He told me like this.

"Did he tell you this?" Jordan asked.

"Yes," the gypsy confirmed.

"He was also in the train thing, wasn't he?"

"Yes, all of us were on the train.

"He spoke very strangely," Pablo insisted. But he was very brave.

"Poor Kashkin!" thought Jordan, "it should do more damage than it does here.

"It was a little weird," Jordan confessed.

"But he was very clever at making explosions," said the gypsy. And very brave.

"But kind of crazy," Jordan said. In this matter you have to have a lot of head and nerves of steel. There is no need to talk like that, as he did.

"And you," said Paul, "if you were wounded on the bridge, would you like us to leave you behind?"

"Hey," Jordan said, leaning over to him, as he dipped the cup into the bowl to pour himself wine again. Sorry, if I ever have to ask someone for a favor, I'll ask them when the time comes.

"Olé!" said the gypsy. That's how the good guys talk. Ah! Here's the food.

"You have already eaten," said Paul.

"But I can eat again," said the gypsy. Look who wears it.

The girl was inclined to leave the cave. She was holding a flat iron casserole with two handles in her hand, and Robert Jordan saw her turn her face, as if she were ashamed of something, and he understood at once what was wrong. The girl smiled and said, "Hello, buddy," and Jordan replied, "Cheers," and tried not to stare at her or look away. The girl put the iron paella pan on the floor in front of her, and Jordan saw that she had beautiful tanned skin hands. Then she looked at him cheekily and smiled.

He had white teeth, which contrasted with the dark skin, and the skin and eyes were the same golden brown color. She had beautiful cheeks, cheerful eyes, and a full mouth, not very drawn. Her hair was the same golden brown as a wheat field scorched by the summer sun, but she wore it so short that it made one think of a beaver's fur. The girl smiled, looking at Jordan, and raised her brown hand to run it over her head, trying to straighten her hair, which rose again immediately. "She has a pretty face," Jordan thought, "and she'd be really pretty if she hadn't been shaved." "That's how I comb my hair," the girl said to Jordan, and laughed. Well, you eat. Don't just stare at it. They cut my hair in Valladolid. Now it has grown me.

She sat down beside him and stared at him. He looked at her too. She smiled and folded her hands on her knees. Her legs appeared long and clean, sticking out of the men's pants she was wearing, and as she stood there, her hands folded on her knees, Jordan saw the shape of her small, shapely breasts under the gray shirt. Every time Jordan looked at her, she felt a kind of ball form in her throat.

"We have no dishes," said Anselmo; Use the knife. "The girl had left four forks, their tines down, next to the iron paella pan.

They all ate from the same plate, without speaking, as is customary in Spain. The meal consisted of rabbit, seasoned with lots of onion and green peppers, and there were chickpeas in the sauce, dark, made with red wine. It was very well stewed; the meat fell off the bones by itself and the sauce was delicious. Jordan drank another cup of wine with the meal. The girl did not take her eyes off him. Everyone else was attentive to the food.

Jordan flocks with a piece of bread the remaining sauce, carefully piled the rabbit bones aside, took advantage of the game that was left in this space, wiped the fork with another piece of bread, cleaned the knife and the award as well, and then ate the bread that had been used to clean it. Leaning forward, he filled a new cup while the girl continued to watch him.

Jordan straightened up, drank half the cup, and saw that he still had the ball down his throat when he wanted to talk to the girl.

"What's your name?" he asked. Paul immediately turned his face towards him when he heard that tone of voice. He immediately got up and left.

"Maria, what about you?"

-Robert. Have you been around for a long time?

"Three months."

"Three tables?" Jordan asked, looking at her head, the thick, short hair she was trying to crush, going over and over her command, which she was doing now with some difficulty, without success, because her hair would immediately stand up again like a field of soft, windswept on the side of a hill.

"They shaved it off me," he explained; they shaved my head from time to time in the dam of Valladolid. It took me three months to grow like now. I was on the train. They took me to the South. Many of the detainees who were on the train that flew were caught after the explosion; but I don't. I see myself with them.

"I found her hidden among the rocks," the gypsy explained. He was there when we were going to leave. Boy, how ugly she was! We took her with us, but on the way I thought several times that we would abandon her.

"And the other one who was with the train with them?" Maria asked. The other, the blond one, the foreigner. Where is it?

"Died," Jordan said. He died in April.

-In April? The train thing was in April.

"Yes," Jordan said; He died ten days after the train.

"Poor thing," said the girl; He was very brave. And you do the same work?

"Yes.

"Have you flown trains too?"

"Yes, three trains.

"Here?"

"In Extremadura," Jordan said. I have been to Extremadura before coming here. We have done a lot in Extremadura. We have a lot of people working in Extremadura.

"And why have you come to these mountains now?"

"I've come to replace the other, the blond one. I also knew this region before the Movement.

"Do you know her well?"

"No, not very well. But I learn quickly. I have a very good map and a good guide.

"Ah, the old man," she said, nodding her head; the old man is very good.

"Thank you," Anselmo said, and Jordan suddenly realized that he and the girl were not alone, and he also realized that it was difficult for him to look at her, because the tone of his voice changed quickly. He was violating the second of the two commandments that govern when dealing with Spaniards: you have to give tobacco to men and leave women alone. But he also saw that nothing mattered to him. There were many things that did not care about him; Why would he care about it?

"You're very pretty," he said to Maria. I would have liked to see what you were like before you had your hair cut.

"The hair will grow," she said. In six months I'll have it long.

"I should have seen her when we took her. She was so ugly, it churned her guts.

"Whose wife are you?" Jordan asked, wanting to give the voice a normal tone. Of peace?

The girl looked him in the eye and laughed. Then he hit him on the knee.

"Pablo's?" Have you seen Pablo?

"Well, then maybe you're Rafael's wife." I've seen Rafael.

"I'm not from Rafael.

"It's nobody," the gypsy clarified. She is a very strange woman. He is body. But cook well.

"Nobody's?" Jordan asked.

"Nobody's. No one's. Neither jokingly nor seriously. Nor from you either.

"No?" Jordan asked and saw the ball go back down his throat. Well, I don't have time for women. This is the truth.

"Not even fifteen minutes?" The gypsy asked ironically. Not even a quarter of an hour?

Jordan didn't answer. He looked at the girl at Maria and noticed that her throat was too tight to try to venture to talk.

Maria looked at him and burst out laughing. Then he suddenly reddened, but he kept looking at him.

"You've turned red," Jordan said. Do you turn red often?

"Never.

"You've turned red again right now.

"Well, I'll go to the cave."

"Stay here, Maria.

"No," she said, and didn't smile at him again. I'm going to the cave right now.

He took the iron paella pan where they had eaten, and the four forks.

He moved with little trace, like a newborn colt, but with all the grace of a young animal.

"Do you keep the cups?" he asked. Jordan kept looking at her and she turned red.

"Don't look at me," she said; I don't like you looking at me like that.

"Put down the cups," said the gypsy. Leave them here.

He put a cup in the bar and offered it to Jordan, who watched as the girl lowered her head to enter the cave, carrying the iron paella pan in her hands.

Thank you," Jordan said. His voice had returned to normal tone since she had disappeared. It is the last. We've had enough to drink.

"We're done with the sweep," said the gypsy; there are more than half skins. We took him on one of the horses.

"It was Pau's last job," Anselmo said. Since then he has done nothing.

"How many are you?" Jordan asked.

"There are seven of us and two women.

"Two?"

"Yes, Pablo's girl and wife.

"Where is Pablo's wife?"

"In the cave." The girl knows how to cook a little. I said I cooked well to flatter her. But all he does is help Pau's wife.

"And what is that woman, Pablo's wife, like?"

"A beast," said the gypsy, smiling. A real beast. If you think Paul is ugly, you should see his wife. But very brave. Much braver than Pablo. A beast.

"Paz was brave at first," Anselmo said. Pablo used to be very brave.

"More people have died than cholera," said the gypsy. At the beginning of the Movement, Paul killed more people than typhus.

"But it has been very weak for a long time," Anselmo explained. Very weak. He is very afraid of dying.

"It must be because he killed so many people in the beginning," said the gypsy philosophically. Paul has killed more than the plague.

"Because of that and because he is rich," said Anselmo. Plus, he drinks a lot. Now he would like to retire as an ox killer. But he cannot withdraw.

"If you go to the other side of the lines, they will take your horses and make you join the army," said the gypsy. I wouldn't want to join the army.

"No gypsy likes it," said Anselmo.

"And why would we like to?" asked the gypsy. Who is it that wants to be in the army? Let's make the revolution to join the ranks? I like to wage war, but not in the army.

"Where are the others?" Jordan asked. He felt at ease and wanted to sleep thanks to the wine. He had laid on his back on the ground and was staring through the treetops at the afternoon clouds moving slowly in the high Spanish sky.

"There are two who are sleeping in the cave," said the gypsy. Two others are on guard upstairs, where we have the machine. One is on guard down; They're probably all asleep.

Jordan stretched to the side.

"What kind of machine is this?"

"It has a very strange name," said the gypsy; It has gone from my memory a little while ago. It's like a machine gun.

"It will be a machine gun," Jordan thought.

"How much does it weigh?" he asked.

"A man can carry it, but it's heavy. It has three feet that fold. We caught it on the last serious expedition; the last one, before that of wine.

"How many cartridges do you have?"

"An infinity," replied the gypsy. A whole box, which weighs its own.

It will be about five hundred, Jordan thought.

"How do you load it, with tape or with plates?"

"With round iron studs that you put through the mouth of the machine."

"Hell, it's a Lewis," Jordan thought.

"Do you know a lot about machine guns?" He asked the old man.

"Nothing," replied Anselmo. Nothing.

"And you?" He asked the gypsy.

"I know they fire very quickly and get so hot that the cannon burns your hands if touched," the gypsy replied proudly.

"Everybody knows that," said Anselmo contemptuously.

"Perhaps I know," said the gypsy. But he asked me if I knew anything about the machine and I told him. Then he added, "Besides, contrary to what ordinary rifles do, they keep firing while the trigger is pulled.

"If they don't jam, they may lack ammunition or they may get so hot that they melt," Jordan said, in English.

"What do you say?" Anselmo asked.

"Nothing," Jordan replied. I was looking to the future in English.

"That's strange," said the gypsy. Looking to the future in English. Do you know how to read in the palm of your hand?

"No," said Roberto, and poured himself another cup of wine. But if you know, I'd like you to read the palm of my hand and tell me what's going to happen in three days.

"Pablo's wife can read the palm of her hand," said the gypsy. But he's got such a bad temper and he's so wild, I don't know if he'll want to.

Robert Jordan sat down and took a drink of wine.

"Let's see what that Pablo's wife is like," he said; If it's as bad as you say, I'd better meet it as soon as possible.

"I don't dare disturb her," said Raphael; He hates me to death.

"Why?"

"He says I'm lazy."

"What an injustice! Anselmo commented ironically.

-You don't like gypsies.

"It's a mistake," said Anselmo.

"He has gypsy blood," said Raphael; "You know what you're talking about," he added, smiling. But he has a tongue that cooks like a whip. With his tongue he is able to remove your skin in strips. She is an incredible savage.

"How do you get along with the girl, with Maria?" Jordan asked.

"Well. He wants the girl. But he doesn't let anyone really get close to him. He shook his head and his tongue chattered.

"She's very good to the girl," said Anselmo. Take great care.

"When we took the girl, when the train happened, it was very strange," said Rafael; he did not want to talk; She was always crying, and if she was touched, she would start shaking like a wet dog. Only later did it begin to get better. Now it's going very well. A while ago when I was talking to you she got along very well. For us, we would have left it when the train happened. It wasn't worth wasting time on something so ugly and so sad that it was worthless. But the old woman tied a rope around her body, and when the girl said no, she couldn't walk, the old woman would hit her with one end of the rope to force her to go on. Later, when the girl couldn't really walk on her foot, the old woman carried her on her back. When the old woman could no longer carry her, I was the one who had to carry her. We cut down this mountain among brambles and weeds up to our chests. And when I couldn't bring her anymore, Pablo replaced me. But the things that the old woman had to call us to do this! He shook his head, remembering himself. It's true that the girl doesn't weigh, she only has legs. It is very light on bones and does not weigh much. But his strength was heavy when he had to carry her on his back, stop to shoot and then carry her again, and the old woman who beat Pablo with the rope and brought him his rifle, and put it in his hand when he wanted to drop the girl, and forced him to take her again. he took the cartridges out of his pockets and loaded the rifle and kept calling him. It was night, and with the darkness everything was settled. But it was fortunate that they didn't have cavalry.

"The train must have been very hard," said Anselmo. I wasn't on the train," he explained to Jordan. There was Pablo's band, the Deaf band, whom we will see tonight, and two other bands from these mountains. I was on the other end of the lines.

"And then there was the blond with the strange name," said the gypsy.

"Kashkin.

"Yes, it's a name I can never remember. We had two who carried machine guns. Two that he had sent us to the army. They couldn't load the machine gun in the end and it was lost. Surely she didn't weigh more than the girl, and if the old woman had taken care of her, they would have taken the machine gun. He shook his head as he remembered him, and went on, "I've never seen a similar explosion in my life. The train was coming slowly. You could see him coming from afar. I was so excited, I couldn't tell you. The smoke was seen and then the whistle of the whistle was heard. Then the train approached making chuchu chu-chu, getting stronger and stronger, and then, at the moment of the explosion, the front wheels of the train were

the engine was lifted into the air and the earth roared, and it seemed as if everything was raised in a black cloud, and the locomotive jumped into the air through the black cloud; The wooden crossings jumped into the air as if by magic, and then the machine was lying on its side, like a large wounded animal. And then an explosion of white vapor before the mud from the other explosion had finished falling. Then the machine began to make ta ta ta ta," said the gypsy excitedly, waving his clenched fists, raising and lowering them, with his thumbs resting on an imaginary machine gun. "Ta ta ta," he shouted, enthusiastically. I had never seen anything like it, with the soldiers jumping off the train and the machine shooting them at point-blank range, and the men falling; And that's when I put my hand on the machine, and I was so excited, that I didn't notice it was burning. And then the old woman slapped me in the face and said, "Shoot, you idiot; shoot, or I'll crush your brains." Then I started shooting, but it was difficult for me to have the machine straight, and the soldiers fled to the mountains. Later, when we went down to the train to see what we could catch, an officer, pistol in hand, forcibly rallied his soldiers against us. The officer was waving his gun and yelling at them to come after us, and we fired at him, but we didn't get to him. Then the soldiers dropped to the ground and started shooting, and the officer was going to and fro, but we didn't get to hit him, and the machine couldn't fire him because of the position of the train. This officer killed two of his men, who were lying on the ground, and yet the others would not get up, and he was screaming and finally making them get up, and they came running towards us and towards the train. Then they stretched again and fired. Then we escaped with the machine, which kept firing over our heads. It was then that I met the girl, who had escaped from the train and had hidden in the rocks, and she came with us. And it was those same soldiers who chased us into the evening.

"It must have been a hard blow," said Anselmo. But with a lot of emotion.

"It's the only good thing that's been done so far," said a deep voice. What are you doing, you disgusting drunkard, you gypsy son of a bitch? What are you up to?

Robert Jordan saw a woman, about fifty years old, as old as Pau, almost as wide as she was tall; she wore a black peasant skirt and a blouse of the same color, with black woollen stockings over her thick legs; he wore espadrilles and had a tanned face that could serve as a model for a granite monument. The woman had large, though well-shaped, hands and thick, curly black hair that was fastened at the nape of her neck with a bun.

"Come on, answer," he said to the gypsy, unaware of the presence of the others. What were you doing?

"I was talking to those comrades. This one you see here is a dynamiter.

"I know," replied Pablo's wife. Get out of here and go replace Andreu, who is on guard duty upstairs.

"I'm leaving," said the gypsy. I'm leaving. He turned to Robert Jordan. I'll see you at lunchtime.

"Don't even think about it," the woman said. You've already eaten three times, by the count I have. Go and send Andrew to me at once.

"Hello! He said to Robert Jordan, and stretched out his hand, smiling. How are things going in the Republic?

"Good," Jordan said, and returned the tight handshake. The Republic and I are doing well.

"I'm glad," she said. He looked at it without batter, and Jordan noticed that the woman had beautiful gray eyes. Has another train come to fly?

"No," Jordan replied, and he saw instantly that he could trust her. I've come to blow up a bridge.

"It's nothing," she said; a bridge is nothing. When will we blow up another train, now that we have horses?

"Later." The bridge is of great depth.

"The girl told me that her friend, the one who was on the train with us, has died.

"That's right.

"What a pity! I never saw such an explosion. He was a very talented man. I liked it a lot. Wouldn't it be possible to fly another train now? We have a lot of men in the mountains, too much. It is already difficult to find food for everyone. We'd better leave. We also have horses.

"We have to blow up a bridge.

"Where is that bridge?"

"Very close to here.

"Better than better," said Pablo's wife. We'll blow up all the bridges around here and go. I'm sick of this site. There are too many people here. Nothing good can come of it. We are standing here, doing nothing, and this is disgusting.

He saw Paul pass through the trees.

"Drunk," he shouted. Drunk, damned drunk. He turned to Jordan jovially, "He's taken a wineskin to drink alone in the woods," he explained. He's drinking all the time. This life ends with him. Young man, I'm so glad you came." He tapped him on the shoulder. "Come," he said, "you're stronger than you look. And he ran his hand over his back, feeling the muscles under his flannel shirt. "Well, I'm so glad you're here.

"I tell you the same thing.

"We'll get on well," she said. Have a drink.

"We've had a few," Jordan said. Want to drink? Jordan asked.

"No," she answered, "until dinner-time." It makes me feel heartburn. Then he turned his head and saw Pablo again. "Drunk," he shouted. Drunk. He turned to Jordan and shook his head. "He was a very good man," he said; but now it's finished. And listen, I want to tell you something else. Be good and very affectionate with the girl. With Mary. He has gone through a bad patch. Do you understand? He said suddenly addressing him.

"Yes, why are you telling me this?"

"Because I saw how he was when he entered the cave, after having seen you. I saw that he was watching you before leaving.

"We've joked a little.

"He's had a really bad time," Pablo's wife said. She is better now, and it would be well to take her away from here.

"Of course; we can send it across the lines with Anselm.

"Anselmo and you can take her when this is over," he said momentarily leaving the first name.

Robert Jordan heard the tightness in his throat again, and his voice grew hoarse.

"We could do it," he said.

Pablo's wife looked at him and shook her head.

"Oh, oh! he said. Are all men like you?

"I have not said anything," he answered; and it's very beautiful, as you know.

"No, she's not pretty. But it is beginning to be; Isn't this what you mean? Pablo's wife asked. Men. It's a shame that we, women, should make them. Aren't there houses supported by the Republic to take care of these girls?

"Yes," Jordan replied. There are very good houses. On the coast, near Valencia. And in other places. They will care for and teach how to take care of children. In these houses there are children from the evacuated villages. And they will teach her how to take care of them.

"That's what I want for her," Pablo's wife said. Pablo gets sick as soon as he sees her. It's another thing that's ending with him. He gets sick when he sees her. The best thing will be for him to leave.

"We can take care of it when we finish with the other.

"And will you take care of him if I entrust it to you?" I speak to him as if I had known him for a long time.

"And it's like that," Jordan said. When people understand each other, it's as if that's the case.

"Sit down," said Pablo's wife. I have not asked him to promise me anything, because what has to happen, will happen. But if you don't want to deal with it, then I'll ask you to promise me something.

"Why shouldn't I take care of it?"

"I don't want her to go crazy when she leaves. I've had her crazy before and I've been through enough with her.

"I'll take her with me after the bridge," Jordan said. If we're alive after the long weekend, I'll take her with me.

"I don't like to hear you talk like that. This way of speaking brings no luck.

"I spoke to you like that just to make a promise," Jordan said. I am not pessimistic.

"Let me see your hand," said the woman, returning again to the first name.

Jordan reached out and the woman opened it, held it back, ran her thumb through her palm carefully, and locked it back in. He got up. Jordan also stood up and saw that she was looking at him without smiling.

"What have you seen?" Jordan asked. I don't believe in these things; It's not going to scare me.

"Nothing," she said; I haven't seen anything.

"Yes, you've seen something, and I'm curious to know it." Although I don't believe in these things.

"What do you believe in?"

"In many things, but not in that.

"In what?"

—In my work.

"I've seen it.

"Tell me what you saw."

"I haven't seen anything," she said sourly. The bridge is very difficult, isn't it?

"No, I just said it's very important.

"But it can be difficult.

"Yes. And now I'll have to go downstairs and study it. How many men do you have here?

"There are five that are worth it. The gypsy is worthless, although his intentions are good. He has a good heart. I don't trust Pablo.

"How many men does the Deaf have who are worth it?"

"Maybe I'm eight." We will see tonight the Deaf. It will come that way. He is a very clever man. It also has some dynamite in it. Not much. He will talk to him.

"Have you sent for him?"

"He comes every night. He is our neighbor. He is a good friend and comrade.

"What do you think?"

"He's a good man. Very clever. In the matter of the train he was enormous.

—And those of the other bands?

"By giving them advance notice, we could collect fifty rifles of some confidence.

"What trust?"

—It depends on the seriousness of the situation.

"How many cartridges for each rifle?"

"About twenty. It depends on who they want to take to work. If they want to come for that job. Remember that there is no money or booty on the bridge, and that, from the way you speak, it is a dangerous matter, and that we shall have to leave these mountains afterwards. Many will oppose this bridge thing.

"I think so.

"So it is best to speak only when necessary.

"I completely agree.

"When you've studied the bridge," she said, rubbing her first name again, "we'll talk to the Deaf Man tonight."

"To see the bridge with Anselmo."

"Wake up," he said. Do you want a carbine?

"Thank you," Jordan replied. It is not bad to wear it; but, nevertheless, he would not use it. I'm just going to see; not to disturb. Thank you for telling me what you have told me. I really like the way he speaks.

"I wanted to speak frankly.

"Then tell me what you saw in my hand."

"No," she said, and shook her head. I haven't seen anything. Go to your bridge now. I will take care of your team.

"Cover it with something and make sure no one touches it." It's better here than inside the cave.

"I will cover it, and no one will dare touch it," said Pablo's wife. Go to your bridge now.

"Anselmo," said Jordan, resting a hand on the old man's shoulder, who was lying in his sleep, with his head hidden in his arms.

The old man opened his eyes.

"Yes," he said; Of course. Let's go.