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But
with
Agustín
I
had
thought
it
was
fear
,
he
thought
.
That
natural
fear
before
action
.
So
it
was
the
other
,
too
.
Of
course
,
he
may
be
bragging
now
.
There
was
plenty
of
fear
.
I
felt
the
fear
under
my
hand
.
Well
,
it
was
time
to
stop
talking
.
"
See
if
the
gypsy
brought
food
,
"
he
said
to
Anselmo
.
"
Do
not
let
him
come
up
.
He
is
a
fool
.
Bring
it
yourself
.
And
however
much
he
brought
,
send
back
for
more
.
I
am
hungry
.
"
Now
the
morning
was
late
May
,
the
sky
was
high
and
clear
and
the
wind
blew
warm
on
Robert
Jordan
’
s
shoulders
.
The
snow
was
going
fast
and
they
were
eating
breakfast
.
There
were
two
big
sandwiches
of
meat
and
the
goaty
cheese
apiece
,
and
Robert
Jordan
had
cut
thick
slices
of
onion
with
his
clasp
knife
and
put
them
on
each
side
of
the
meat
and
cheese
between
the
chunks
of
bread
.
"
You
will
have
a
breath
that
will
carry
through
the
forest
to
the
fascists
,
"
Agustín
said
,
his
own
mouth
full
.
"
Give
me
the
wineskin
and
I
will
rinse
the
mouth
,
"
Robert
Jordan
said
,
his
mouth
full
of
meat
,
cheese
,
onion
and
chewed
bread
.
He
had
never
been
hungrier
and
he
filled
his
mouth
with
wine
,
faintly
tarry
-
tasting
from
the
leather
bag
,
and
swallowed
.
Then
he
took
another
big
mouthful
of
wine
,
lifting
the
bag
up
to
let
the
jet
of
wine
spurt
into
the
back
of
his
mouth
,
the
wineskin
touching
the
needles
of
the
blind
of
pine
branches
that
covered
the
automatic
rifle
as
he
lifted
his
hand
,
his
head
leaning
against
the
pine
branches
as
he
bent
it
back
to
let
the
wine
run
down
.
"
Dost
thou
want
this
other
sandwich
?
"
Agustín
asked
him
,
handing
it
toward
him
across
the
gun
.
"
No
.
Thank
you
.
Eat
it
.
"
"
I
cannot
.
I
am
not
accustomed
to
eat
in
the
morning
.
"
"
You
do
not
want
it
,
truly
?
"
