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Ahead
of
them
a
horse
whinnied
in
the
timber
and
then
,
through
the
brown
trunks
of
the
pine
trees
,
only
a
little
sunlight
coming
down
through
their
thick
,
almost
-
touching
tops
,
he
saw
the
corral
made
by
roping
around
the
tree
trunks
.
The
horses
had
their
heads
pointed
toward
the
men
as
they
approached
,
and
at
the
foot
of
a
tree
,
outside
the
corral
,
the
saddles
were
piled
together
and
covered
with
a
tarpaulin
.
As
they
came
up
,
the
two
men
with
the
packs
stopped
,
and
Robert
Jordan
knew
it
was
for
him
to
admire
the
horses
.
"
Yes
,
"
he
said
.
"
They
are
beautiful
.
"
He
turned
to
Pablo
.
"
You
have
your
cavalry
and
all
.
"
There
were
five
horses
in
the
rope
corral
,
three
bays
,
a
sorrel
,
and
a
buckskin
.
Sorting
them
out
carefully
with
his
eyes
after
he
had
seen
them
first
together
,
Robert
Jordan
looked
them
over
individually
.
Pablo
and
Anselmo
knew
how
good
they
were
and
while
Pablo
stood
now
proud
and
less
sad
-
looking
,
watching
them
lovingly
,
the
old
man
acted
as
though
they
were
some
great
surprise
that
he
had
produced
,
suddenly
,
himself
.
"
How
do
they
look
to
you
?
"
he
asked
.
"
All
these
I
have
taken
,
"
Pablo
said
and
Robert
Jordan
was
pleased
to
hear
him
speak
proudly
.
"
That
,
"
said
Robert
Jordan
,
pointing
to
one
of
the
bays
,
a
big
stallion
with
a
white
blaze
on
his
forehead
and
a
single
white
foot
,
the
near
front
,
"
is
much
horse
.
"
He
was
a
beautiful
horse
that
looked
as
though
he
had
come
out
of
a
painting
by
Velasquez
.
"
They
are
all
good
,
"
said
Pablo
.
"
You
know
horses
?
"
