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The
three
of
them
started
down
the
hill
.
"
Buena
suerte
,
Don
Roberto
,
"
Fernando
said
as
the
three
of
them
passed
him
as
they
moved
in
single
file
between
the
trees
.
Fernando
was
crouched
on
his
haunches
a
little
way
from
where
they
passed
but
he
spoke
with
great
dignity
.
"
Buena
suerte
thyself
,
Fernando
,
"
Robert
Jordan
said
.
"
In
everything
thou
doest
,
"
Agustín
said
.
"
Thank
you
,
Don
Roberto
,
"
Fernando
said
,
undisturbed
by
Agustín
.
"
That
one
is
a
phenomenon
,
Inglés
,
"
Agustín
whispered
.
"
I
believe
thee
,
"
Robert
Jordan
said
.
"
Can
I
help
thee
?
Thou
art
loaded
like
a
horse
.
"
"
I
am
all
right
,
"
Agustín
said
.
"
Man
,
but
I
am
content
we
are
started
.
"
"
Speak
softly
,
"
Anselmo
said
.
"
From
now
on
speak
little
and
softly
.
"
Walking
carefully
,
downhill
,
Anselmo
in
the
lead
,
Agustín
next
,
Robert
Jordan
placing
his
feet
carefully
so
that
he
would
not
slip
,
feeling
the
dead
pine
needles
under
his
rope
-
soled
shoes
,
bumping
a
tree
root
with
one
foot
and
putting
a
hand
forward
and
feeling
the
cold
metal
jut
of
the
automatic
rifle
barrel
and
the
folded
legs
of
the
tripod
,
then
working
sideways
down
the
hill
,
his
shoes
sliding
and
grooving
the
forest
floor
,
putting
his
left
hand
out
again
and
touching
the
rough
bark
of
a
tree
trunk
,
then
as
he
braced
himself
his
hand
feeling
a
smooth
place
,
the
base
of
the
palm
of
his
hand
coming
away
sticky
from
the
resinous
sap
where
a
blaze
had
been
cut
,
they
dropped
down
the
steep
wooded
hillside
to
the
point
above
the
bridge
where
Robert
Jordan
and
Anselmo
had
watched
the
first
day
.
