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The
gypsy
,
Rafael
,
was
coming
toward
them
through
the
rocks
,
carrying
a
pair
of
cloth
saddlebags
,
his
rifle
slung
on
his
back
.
Robert
Jordan
waved
him
down
and
the
gypsy
ducked
out
of
sight
.
"
We
could
have
killed
all
four
,
"
Agustín
said
quietly
.
He
was
still
wet
with
sweat
.
"
Yes
,
"
Robert
Jordan
whispered
.
"
But
with
the
firing
who
knows
what
might
have
come
?
"
Just
then
he
heard
the
noise
of
another
rock
falling
and
he
looked
around
quickly
.
But
both
the
gypsy
and
Anselmo
were
out
of
sight
.
He
looked
at
his
wrist
watch
and
then
up
to
where
Primitivo
was
raising
and
lowering
his
rifle
in
what
seemed
an
infinity
of
short
jerks
.
Pablo
has
forty
-
five
minutes
’
start
,
Robert
Jordan
thought
,
and
then
he
heard
the
noise
of
a
body
of
cavalry
coming
.
"
No
te
apures
,
"
he
whispered
to
Agustín
.
"
Do
not
worry
.
They
will
pass
as
the
others
.
"
They
came
into
sight
trotting
along
the
edge
of
the
timber
in
column
of
twos
,
twenty
mounted
men
,
armed
and
uniformed
as
the
others
had
been
,
their
sabers
swinging
,
their
carbines
in
their
holsters
;
and
then
they
went
down
into
the
timber
as
the
others
had
.
"
Tu
ves
?
"
Robert
Jordan
said
to
Agustín
.
"
Thou
seest
?
"
"
There
were
many
,
"
Agustín
said
.
"
These
would
we
have
had
to
deal
with
if
we
had
destroyed
the
others
,
"
Robert
Jordan
said
very
softly
.
His
heart
had
quieted
now
and
his
shirt
felt
wet
on
his
chest
from
the
melting
snow
.
There
was
a
hollow
feeling
in
his
chest
.
The
sun
was
bright
on
the
snow
and
it
was
melting
fast
.
He
could
see
it
hollowing
away
from
the
tree
trunks
and
just
ahead
of
the
gun
,
before
his
eyes
,
the
snow
surface
was
damp
and
lacily
fragile
as
the
heat
of
the
sun
melted
the
top
and
the
warmth
of
the
earth
breathed
warmly
up
at
the
snow
that
lay
upon
it
.
