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"
Both
for
up
the
road
and
for
the
bridge
.
"
He
opened
his
eyes
,
turned
his
head
and
looked
across
the
bridge
,
then
shut
them
as
the
pain
came
.
The
gypsy
tapped
his
head
and
motioned
with
his
thumb
to
Primitivo
for
them
to
be
off
.
"
Then
we
will
be
down
for
thee
,
"
Primitivo
said
and
started
up
the
slope
after
the
gypsy
,
who
was
climbing
fast
.
Fernando
lay
back
against
the
bank
.
In
front
of
him
was
one
of
the
whitewashed
stones
that
marked
the
edge
of
the
road
.
His
head
was
in
the
shadow
but
the
sun
shone
on
his
plugged
and
bandaged
wound
and
on
his
hands
that
were
cupped
over
it
.
His
legs
and
his
feet
also
were
in
the
sun
.
The
rifle
lay
beside
him
and
there
were
three
clips
of
cartridges
shining
in
the
sun
beside
the
rifle
.
A
fly
crawled
on
his
hands
but
the
small
tickling
did
not
come
through
the
pain
.
"
Fernando
!
"
Anselmo
called
to
him
from
where
he
crouched
,
holding
the
wire
.
He
had
made
a
loop
in
the
end
of
the
wire
and
twisted
it
close
so
he
could
hold
it
in
his
fist
.
"
Fernando
!
"
he
called
again
.
Fernando
opened
his
eyes
and
looked
at
him
.
"
How
does
it
go
?
"
Fernando
asked
.
"
Very
good
,
"
Anselmo
said
.
"
Now
in
a
minute
we
will
be
blowing
it
.
"
"
I
am
pleased
.
Anything
you
need
me
for
advise
me
,
"
Fernando
said
and
shut
his
eyes
again
and
the
pain
lurched
in
him
.
