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But
he
was
thinking
,
Sure
,
make
fun
of
him
.
But
suppose
it
was
you
,
way
back
here
in
your
own
country
and
they
held
you
up
with
firing
on
the
main
road
.
Then
a
bridge
was
blown
.
Wouldn
’
t
you
think
it
was
mined
ahead
or
that
there
was
a
trap
?
Sure
you
would
.
He
’
s
done
all
right
.
He
’
s
waiting
for
something
else
to
come
up
.
He
’
s
engaging
the
enemy
.
It
’
s
only
us
.
But
he
can
’
t
tell
that
.
Look
at
the
little
bastard
.
The
little
tank
had
nosed
a
little
farther
around
the
corner
.
Just
then
Agustín
saw
Pablo
coming
over
the
edge
of
the
gorge
,
pulling
himself
over
on
hands
and
knees
,
his
bristly
face
running
with
sweat
.
"
Here
comes
the
son
of
a
bitch
,
"
he
said
.
"
Who
?
"
"
Pablo
.
"
Robert
Jordan
looked
,
saw
Pablo
,
and
then
he
commenced
firing
at
the
part
of
the
camouflaged
turret
of
the
tank
where
he
knew
the
slit
above
the
machine
gun
would
be
.
The
little
tank
whirred
backwards
,
scuttling
out
of
sight
and
Robert
Jordan
picked
up
the
automatic
rifle
,
clamped
the
tripod
against
the
barrel
and
swung
the
gun
with
its
still
hot
muzzle
over
his
shoulder
.
The
muzzle
was
so
hot
it
burned
his
shoulder
and
he
shoved
it
far
behind
him
turning
the
stock
flat
in
his
hand
.
"
Bring
the
sack
of
pans
and
my
little
máquina
,
"
he
shouted
,
"
and
come
running
.
"
Robert
Jordan
ran
up
the
hill
through
the
pines
.
Agustín
was
close
behind
him
and
behind
him
Pablo
was
coming
.
"
Pilar
!
"
Jordan
shouted
across
the
hill
.
"
Come
on
,
woman
!
"
