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"
And
?
"
"
He
has
taken
something
of
thine
,
"
the
woman
said
miserably
.
"
So
.
What
?
"
"
I
do
not
know
,
"
she
told
him
.
"
Come
and
see
.
"
In
the
dark
they
walked
over
to
the
entrance
of
the
cave
,
ducked
under
the
blanket
and
went
in
.
Robert
Jordan
followed
her
in
the
dead
-
ashes
,
bad
-
air
and
sleeping
-
men
smell
of
the
cave
,
shining
his
electric
torch
so
that
he
would
not
step
on
any
of
those
who
were
sleeping
on
the
floor
.
Anselmo
woke
and
said
,
"
Is
it
time
?
"
"
No
,
"
Robert
Jordan
whispered
.
"
Sleep
,
old
one
.
"
The
two
sacks
were
at
the
head
of
Pilar
’
s
bed
which
was
screened
off
with
a
hanging
blanket
from
the
rest
of
the
cave
.
The
bed
smelt
stale
and
sweat
-
dried
and
sickly
-
sweet
the
way
an
Indian
’
s
bed
does
as
Robert
Jordan
knelt
on
it
and
shone
the
torch
on
the
two
sacks
.
There
was
a
long
slit
from
top
to
bottom
in
each
one
.
Holding
the
torch
in
his
left
hand
,
Robert
Jordan
felt
in
the
first
sack
with
his
right
hand
.
This
was
the
one
that
he
carried
his
robe
in
and
it
should
not
be
very
full
.
It
was
not
very
full
.
There
was
some
wire
in
it
still
but
the
square
wooden
box
of
the
exploder
was
gone
.
So
was
the
cigar
box
with
the
carefully
wrapped
and
packed
detonators
.
So
was
the
screw
-
top
tin
with
the
fuse
and
the
caps
.
Robert
Jordan
felt
in
the
other
sack
.
It
was
still
full
of
explosive
.
There
might
be
one
packet
missing
.
He
stood
up
and
turned
to
the
woman
.
There
is
a
hollow
empty
feeling
that
a
man
can
have
when
he
is
waked
too
early
in
the
morning
that
is
almost
like
the
feeling
of
disaster
and
he
had
this
multiplied
a
thousand
times
.
