"Yes. But it is a big country and very wild."
"It would be very difficult to get there," Pilar said.
"Everything is difficult," El Sordo said. "We can get to Gredos as well as to anywhere else. Travelling at night. Here it is very dangerous now. It is a miracle we have been here this long. Gredos is safer country than this."
"Do you know where I want to go?" Pilar asked him.
"Where? The Paramera? That's no good."
"No," Pilar said. "Not the Sierra de Paramera. I want to go to the Republic."
"That is possible."
"Would your people go?"
"Yes. If I say to."
"Of mine, I do not know," Pilar said. "Pablo would not want to although, truly, he might feel safer there. He is too old to have to go for a soldier unless they call more classes. The gypsy will not wish to go. I do not know about the others."
"Because nothing passes her for so long they do not realize the danger," El Sordo said.
"Since the planes today they will see it more," Robert Jordan said. "But I should think you could operate very well from the Gredos."
"What?" El Sordo said and looked at him with his eyes very flat. There was no friendliness in the way he asked the question.
"You could raid more effectively from there," Robert Jordan said.
"So," El Sordo said. "You know Gredos?"
"Yes. You could operate against the main line of the railway from there. You could keep cutting it as we are doing farther south in Estremadura. To operate from there would be better than returning to the Republic," Robert Jordan said. "You are more useful there."
They had both gotten sullen as he talked.
Sordo looked at Pilar and she looked back at him.
"You know Gredos?" Sordo asked. "Truly?"
"Sure," said Robert Jordan.
"Where would you go?"
"Above Barco de Avila. Better places than here. Raid against the main road and the railroad between Bejar and Plasencia."
"Very difficult," Sordo said.
"We have worked against that same railroad in much more dangerous country in Estremadura," Robert Jordan said.
"Who is we?"
"The guerrilleros group of Estremadura."
"You are many?"
"About forty."
"Was the one with the bad nerves and the strange name from there?" asked Pilar.
"Yes."
"Where is he now?"
"Dead, as I told you."
"You are from there, too?"
"Yes."
"You see what I mean?" Pilar said to him.
And I have made a mistake, Robert Jordan thought to himself. I have told Spaniards we can do something better than they can when the rule is never to speak of your own exploits or abilities. When I should have flattered them I have told them what I think they should do and now they are furious. Well, they will either get over it or they will not. They are certainly much more useful in the Gredos than here. The proof is that here they have done nothing since the train that Kashkin organized. It was not much of a show. It cost the fascists one engine and killed a few troops but they all talk as though it were the high point of the war. Maybe they will shame into going to the Gredos. Yes and maybe I will get thrown out of here too. Well, it is not a very rosy-looking dish anyway that you look into it.
"Listen Ingles," Pilar said to him. "How are your nerves?"
"All right," said Robert Jordan. "O.K."
"Because the last dynamiter they sent to work with us, although a formidable technician, was very nervous."
"We have nervous ones," Robert Jordan said.
"I do not say that he was a coward because he comported himself very well," Pilar went on. "But he spoke in a very rare and windy way." She raised her voice. "Isn't it true, Santiago, that the last dynamiter, he of the train, was a little rare?"
"Algo raro," the deaf man nodded and his eyes went over Robert Jordan's face in a way that reminded him of the round opening at the end of the wand of a vacuum cleaner. "Si, algo raro, pero bueno."
"Murio," Robert Jordan said into the deaf man's ear. "He is dead."
"How was that?" the deaf man asked, dropping his eyes down from Robert Jordan's eyes to his lips.
"I shot him," Robert Jordan said. "He was too badly wounded to travel and I shot him."
"He was always talking of such a necessity," Pilar said. "It was his obsession."
"Yes," said Robert Jordan. "He was always talking of such a necessity and it was his obsession."
"Como fue?" the deaf man asked. "Was it a train?"
"It was returning from a train," Robert Jordan said. "The train was successful. Returning in the dark we encountered a fascist patrol and as we ran he was shot high in the back but without hitting any bone except the shoulder blade. He travelled quite a long way, but with the wound was unable to travel more. He was unwilling to be left behind and I shot him."
"Menos mal," said El Sordo. "Less bad."
"Are you sure your nerves are all right?" Pilar said to Robert Jordan.
"Yes," he told her. "I am sure that my nerves are all right and I think that when we terminate this of the bridge you would do well to go to the Gredos."
As he said that, the woman started to curse in a flood of obscene invective that rolled over and around him like the hot white water splashing down from the sudden eruption of a geyser.
The deaf man shook his head at Robert Jordan and grinned in delight. He continued to shake his head happily as Pilar went on vilifying and Robert Jordan knew that it was all right again now. Finally she stopped cursing, reached for the water jug, tipped it up and took a drink and said, calmly, "Then just shut up about what we are to do afterwards, will you, Ingles? You go back to the Republic and you take your piece with you and leave us others alone here to decide what part of these hills we'll die in."
"Live in," El Sordo said. "Calm thyself, Pilar."
"Live in and die in," Pilar said. "I can see the end of it well enough. I like thee, Ingles, but keep thy mouth off of what we must do when thy business is finished."
"It is thy business," Robert Jordan said. "I do not put my hand in it."
"But you did," Pilar said. "Take thy little cropped-headed whore and go back to the Republic but do not shut the door on others who are not foreigners and who loved the Republic when thou wert wiping thy mother's milk off thy chin."
Maria had come up the trail while they were talking and she heard this last sentence which Pilar, raising her voice again, shouted at Robert Jordan. Maria shook her head at Robert Jordan violently and shook her finger warningly. Pilar saw Robert Jordan looking at the girl and saw him smile and she turned and said, "Yes. I said whore and I mean it. And I suppose that you'll go to Valencia together and we can eat goat crut in Gredos."
"I'm a whore if thee wishes, Pilar," Maria said. "I suppose I am in all case if you say so. But calm thyself. What passes with thee?"
"Nothing," Pilar said and sat down on the bench, her voice calm now and all the metallic rage gone out of it. "I do not call thee that. But I have such a desire to go to the Republic."
"We can all go," Maria said.
"Why not?" Robert Jordan said. "Since thou seemest not to love the Gredos."
Sordo grinned at him.
"We'll see," Pilar said, her rage gone now. "Give me a glass of that rare drink. I have worn my throat out with anger. We'll see. We'll see what happens."
"You see, Comrade," El Sordo explained. "It is the morning that is difficult." He was not talking the pidgin Spanish now and he was looking into Robert Jordan's eyes calmly and explainingly; not searchingly nor suspiciously, nor with the flat superiority of the old campaigner that had been in them before. "I understand your needs and I know the posts must be exterminated and the bridge covered while you do your work. This I understand perfectly. This is easy to do before daylight or at daylight."