"He is well, my Lieutenant-Colonel," Andres told him.
"Good. It makes me happy," the Lieutenant-Colonel said. The officer showed him what he had typed and he read it over and signed it. "You must go now quickly," he said to Gomez and Andres. "Be careful with the motor," he said to Gomez. "Use your lights. Nothing will happen from a single motor and you must be careful. My compliments to Comrade General Golz. We met after Peguerinos." He shook hands with them both. "Button the papers inside thy shirt," he said. "There is much wind on a motor."
After they went out he went to a cabinet, took out a glass and a bottle, and poured himself some whiskey and poured plain water into it from an earthenware crock that stood on the floor against the wall. Then holding the glass and sipping the whiskey very slowly he stood in front of the big map on the wall and studied the offensive possibilities in the country above Navacerrada.
"I am glad it is Golz and not me," he said finally to the officer who sat at the table. The officer did not answer and looking away from the map and at the officer the Lieutenant-Colonel saw he was asleep with his head on his arms. The Lieutenant-Colonel went over to the desk and pushed the two phones close together so that one touched the officer's head on either side. Then he walked to the cupboard, poured himself another whiskey, put water in it, and went back to the map again.
Andres, holding tight onto the seat where Gomez was forking the motor, bent his head against the wind as the motorcycle moved, noisily exploding, into the light-split darkness of the country road that opened ahead sharp with the high black of the poplars beside it, dimmed and yellow-soft now as the road dipped into the fog along a stream bed, sharpening hard again as the road rose and, ahead of them at the crossroads, the headlight showed the gray bulk of the empty trucks coming down from the mountains.
41
Pablo stopped and dismounted in the dark. Robert Jordan heard the creaking and the heavy breathing as they all dismounted and the clinking of a bridle as a horse tossed his head. He smelled the horses and the unwashed and sour slept-in-clothing smell of the new men and the wood-smoky sleep-stale smell of the others who had been in the cave. Pablo was standing close to him and he smelled the brassy, dead-wine smell that came from him like the taste of a copper coin in your mouth. He lit a cigarette, cupping his hand to hide the light, pulled deep on it, and heard Pablo say very softly, "Get the grenade sack, Pilar, while we hobble these."
"Agustin," Robert Jordan said in a whisper, "you and Anselmo come now with me to the bridge. Have you the sack of pans for the maquina?"
"Yes," Agustin said. "Why not?"
Robert Jordan went over to where Pilar was unpacking one of the horses with the help of Primitivo.
"Listen, woman," he said softly.
"What now?" she whispered huskily, swinging a cinch hook clear from under the horse's belly.
"Thou understandest that there is to be no attack on the post until thou hearest the falling of the bombs?"
"How many times dost thou have to tell me?" Pilar said. "You are getting like an old woman, Ingles."
"Only to check," Robert Jordan said. "And after the destruction of the post you fall back onto the bridge and cover the road from above and my left flank."
"The first time thou outlined it I understood it as well as I will ever understand it," Pilar whispered to him. "Get thee about thy business."
"That no one should make a move nor fire a shot nor throw a bomb until the noise of the bombardment comes," Robert Jordan said softly.
"Do not molest me more," Pilar whispered angrily. "I have understood this since we were at Sordo's."
Robert Jordan went to where Pablo was tying the horses. "I have only hobbled those which are liable to panic," Pablo said. "These are tied so a pull of the rope will release them, see?"
"Good."
"I will tell the girl and the gypsy how to handle them," Pablo said. His new men were standing in a group by themselves leaning on their carbines.
"Dost understand all?" Robert Jordan asked.
"Why not?" Pablo said. "Destroy the post. Cut the wire. Fall back on the bridge. Cover the bridge until thou blowest."
"And nothing to start until the commencement of the bombardment."
"Thus it is."
"Well then, much luck."
Pablo grunted. Then he said, "Thou wilt cover us well with the maquina and with thy small maquina when we come back, eh, Ingles?"
"Dela primera," Robert Jordan said. "Off the top of the basket."
"Then," Pablo said. "Nothing more. But in that moment thou must be very careful, Ingles. It will not be simple to do that unless thou art very careful."
"I will handle the maquina myself," Robert Jordan said to him.
"Hast thou much experience? For I am of no mind to be shot by Agustin with his belly full of good intentions."
"I have much experience. Truly. And if Agustin uses either maquina I will see that he keeps it way above thee. Above, above and above."
"Then nothing more," Pablo said. Then he said softly and confidentially, "There is still a lack of horses."
The son of a bitch, Robert Jordan thought. Or does he think I did not understand him the first time.
"I go on foot," he said. "The horses are thy affair."
"Nay, there will be a horse for thee, Ingles," Pablo said softly. "There will be horses for all of us."
"That is thy problem," Robert Jordan said. "Thou dost not have to count me. Hast enough rounds for thy new maquina?"
"Yes," Pablo said. "All that the cavalryman carried. I have fired only four to try it. I tried it yesterday in the high hills."
"We go now," Robert Jordan said. "We must be there early and well hidden."
"We all go now," Pablo said. "Suerte, Ingles."
I wonder what the bastard is planning now, Robert Jordan said. But I am pretty sure I know. Well, that is his, not mine. Thank God I do not know these new men.
He put his hand out and said, "Suerte, Pablo," and their two hands gripped in the dark.
Robert Jordan, when he put his hand out, expected that it would be like grasping something reptilian or touching a leper. He did not know what Pablo's hand would feel like. But in the dark Pablo's hand gripped his hard and pressed it frankly and he returned the grip. Pablo had a good hand in the dark and feeling it gave Robert Jordan the strangest feeling he had felt that morning. We must be allies now, he thought. There was always much handshaking with allies. Not to mention decorations and kissing on both cheeks, he thought. I'm glad we do not have to do that. I suppose all allies are like this. They always hate each other au fond. But this Pablo is a strange man.
"Suerte, Pablo," he said and gripped the strange, firm, purposeful hand hard. "I will cover thee well. Do not worry."
"I am sorry for having taken thy material," Pablo said. "It was an equivocation."
"But thou has brought what we needed."
"I do not hold this of the bridge against thee, Ingles," Pablo said. "I see a successful termination for it."
"What are you two doing? Becoming maricones?" Pilar said suddenly beside them in the dark. "That is all thou hast lacked," she said to Pablo. "Get along, Ingles, and cut thy good-bys short before this one steals the rest of thy explosive."
"Thou dost not understand me, woman," Pablo said. "The Ingles and I understand one another."