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It
was
cold
in
the
night
and
Robert
Jordan
slept
heavily
.
Once
he
woke
and
,
stretching
,
realized
that
the
girl
was
there
,
curled
far
down
in
the
robe
,
breathing
lightly
and
regularly
,
and
in
the
dark
,
bringing
his
head
in
from
the
cold
,
the
sky
hard
and
sharp
with
stars
,
the
air
cold
in
his
nostrils
,
he
put
his
head
under
the
warmth
of
the
robe
and
kissed
her
smooth
shoulder
.
She
did
not
wake
and
he
rolled
onto
his
side
away
from
her
and
with
his
head
out
of
the
robe
in
the
cold
again
,
lay
awake
a
moment
feeling
the
long
,
seeping
luxury
of
his
fatigue
and
then
the
smooth
tactile
happiness
of
their
two
bodies
touching
and
then
,
as
he
pushed
his
legs
out
deep
as
they
would
go
in
the
robe
,
he
slipped
down
steeply
into
sleep
.
He
woke
at
first
daylight
and
the
girl
was
gone
.
He
knew
it
as
he
woke
and
,
putting
out
his
arm
,
he
felt
the
robe
warm
where
she
had
been
.
He
looked
at
the
mouth
of
the
cave
where
the
blanket
showed
frost
-
rimmed
and
saw
the
thin
gray
smoke
from
the
crack
in
the
rocks
that
meant
the
kitchen
fire
was
lighted
.
A
man
came
out
of
the
timber
,
a
blanket
worn
over
his
head
like
a
poncho
.
Robert
Jordan
saw
it
was
Pablo
and
that
he
was
smoking
a
cigarette
.
He
’
s
been
down
corralling
the
horses
,
he
thought
.
Pablo
pulled
open
the
blanket
and
went
into
the
cave
without
looking
toward
Robert
Jordan
.
Robert
Jordan
felt
with
his
hand
the
light
frost
that
lay
on
the
worn
,
spotted
green
balloon
silk
outer
covering
of
the
five
-
year
-
old
down
robe
,
then
settled
into
it
again
.
Bueno
,
he
said
to
himself
,
feeling
the
familiar
caress
of
the
flannel
lining
as
he
spread
his
legs
wide
,
then
drew
them
together
and
then
turned
on
his
side
so
that
his
head
would
be
away
from
the
direction
where
he
knew
the
sun
would
come
.
Qué
más
da
,
I
might
as
well
sleep
some
more
.
He
slept
until
the
sound
of
airplane
motors
woke
him
.
Lying
on
his
back
,
he
saw
them
,
a
fascist
patrol
of
three
Fiats
,
tiny
,
bright
,
fast
-
moving
across
the
mountain
sky
,
headed
in
the
direction
from
which
Anselmo
and
he
had
come
yesterday
.
The
three
passed
and
then
came
nine
more
,
flying
much
higher
in
the
minute
,
pointed
formations
of
threes
,
threes
and
threes
.
Pablo
and
the
gypsy
were
standing
at
the
cave
mouth
,
in
the
shadow
,
watching
the
sky
and
as
Robert
Jordan
lay
still
,
the
sky
now
full
of
the
high
hammering
roar
of
motors
,
there
was
a
new
droning
roar
and
three
more
planes
came
over
at
less
than
a
thousand
feet
above
the
clearing
.
These
three
were
Heinkel
one
-
elevens
,
twin
-
motor
bombers
.
Robert
Jordan
,
his
head
in
the
shadow
of
the
rocks
,
knew
they
would
not
see
him
,
and
that
it
did
not
matter
if
they
did
.
He
knew
they
could
possibly
see
the
horses
in
the
corral
if
they
were
looking
for
anything
in
these
mountains
.
If
they
were
not
looking
for
anything
they
might
still
see
them
but
would
naturally
take
them
for
some
of
their
own
cavalry
mounts
.
Then
came
a
new
and
louder
droning
roar
and
three
more
Heinkel
one
-
elevens
showed
coming
steeply
,
stiffly
,
lower
yet
,
crossing
in
rigid
formation
,
their
pounding
roar
approaching
in
crescendo
to
an
absolute
of
noise
and
then
receding
as
they
passed
the
clearing
.
Robert
Jordan
unrolled
the
bundle
of
clothing
that
made
his
pillow
and
pulled
on
his
shirt
.
It
was
over
his
head
and
he
was
pulling
it
down
when
he
heard
the
next
planes
coming
and
he
pulled
his
trousers
on
under
the
robe
and
lay
still
as
three
more
of
the
Heinkel
bimotor
bombers
came
over
.
