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"
And
what
’
s
that
?
"
Agustín
asked
.
"
What
the
unnameable
is
that
?
"
"
It
has
been
going
since
before
I
blew
the
bridge
,
"
Robert
Jordan
said
.
He
looked
down
at
the
bridge
now
and
he
could
see
the
stream
through
the
torn
gap
where
the
center
had
fallen
,
hanging
like
a
bent
steel
apron
.
He
heard
the
first
of
the
planes
that
had
gone
over
now
bombing
up
above
at
the
pass
and
more
were
still
coming
.
The
noise
of
their
motors
filled
all
the
high
sky
and
looking
up
he
saw
their
pursuit
,
minute
and
tiny
,
circling
and
wheeling
high
above
them
.
"
I
don
’
t
think
they
ever
crossed
the
lines
the
other
morning
,
"
Primitivo
said
.
"
They
must
have
swung
off
to
the
west
and
then
come
back
.
They
could
not
be
making
an
attack
if
they
had
seen
these
.
"
"
Most
of
these
are
new
,
"
Robert
Jordan
said
.
He
had
the
feeling
of
something
that
had
started
normally
and
had
then
brought
great
,
outsized
,
giant
repercussions
.
It
was
as
though
you
had
thrown
a
stone
and
the
stone
made
a
ripple
and
the
ripple
returned
roaring
and
toppling
as
a
tidal
wave
.
Or
as
though
you
shouted
and
the
echo
came
back
in
rolls
and
peals
of
thunder
,
and
the
thunder
was
deadly
.
Or
as
though
you
struck
one
man
and
he
fell
and
as
far
as
you
could
see
other
men
rose
up
all
armed
and
armored
.
He
was
glad
he
was
not
with
Golz
up
at
the
pass
.
Lying
there
,
by
Agustín
,
watching
the
planes
going
over
,
listening
for
firing
behind
him
,
watching
the
road
below
where
he
knew
he
would
see
something
but
not
what
it
would
be
,
he
still
felt
numb
with
the
surprise
that
he
had
not
been
killed
at
the
bridge
.
He
had
accepted
being
killed
so
completely
that
all
of
this
now
seemed
unreal
.
Shake
out
of
that
,
he
said
to
himself
.
Get
rid
of
that
.
There
is
much
,
much
,
much
to
be
done
today
.
But
it
would
not
leave
him
and
he
felt
,
consciously
,
all
of
this
becoming
like
a
dream
.
"
You
swallowed
too
much
of
that
smoke
,
"
he
told
himself
.
But
he
knew
it
was
not
that
.
He
could
feel
,
solidly
,
how
unreal
it
all
was
through
the
absolute
reality
and
he
looked
down
at
the
bridge
and
then
back
to
the
sentry
lying
on
the
road
,
to
where
Anselmo
lay
,
to
Fernando
against
the
bank
and
back
up
the
smooth
,
brown
road
to
the
stalled
truck
and
still
it
was
unreal
.
"
You
better
sell
out
your
part
of
you
quickly
,
"
he
told
himself
.
"
You
’
re
like
one
of
those
cocks
in
the
pit
where
nobody
has
seen
the
wound
given
and
it
doesn
’
t
show
and
he
is
already
going
cold
with
it
.
"
