“You have my confidence. Since this of the cavalry and the sending away of the horse.”
“That was nothing. You see that we are working for one thing. To win the war. Unless we win, all other things are futile. Tomorrow we have a thing of great importance. Of true importance. Also we will have combat. In combat there must be discipline. For many things are not as they appear. Discipline must come from trust and confidence.”
Agustín spat on the ground.
“The Maria and all such things are apart,” he said. “That you and the Maria should make use of what time there is as two human beings. If I can aid thee I am at thy orders. But for the thing of tomorrow I will obey thee blindly. If it is necessary that one should die for the thing of tomorrow one goes gladly and with the heart light.”
“Thus do I feel,” Robert Jordan said. “But to hear it from thee brings pleasure.”
“And more,” Agustín said. “That one above,” he pointed toward Primitivo, “is a dependable value. The Pilar is much, much more than thou canst imagine. The old man Anselmo, also. Andrés also. Eladio also. Very quiet, but a dependable element. And Fernando. I do not know how thou hast appreciated him. It is true he is heavier than mercury. He is fuller of boredom than a steer drawing a cart on the highroad. But to fight and to do as he is told. Es muy hombre! Thou wilt see.”
“We are lucky.”
“No. We have two weak elements. The gypsy and Pablo. But the band of Sordo are as much better than we are as we are better than goat manure.”
“All is well then.”
“Yes,” Agustín said. “But I wish it was for today.”
“Me, too. To finish with it. But it is not.”
“Do you think it will be bad?”
“It can be.”
“But thou are very cheerful now, Inglés.”
“Yes.”
“Me also. In spite of this of the Maria and all.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Me neither. Perhaps it is the day. The day is good.”
“Who knows? Perhaps it is that we will have action.”
“I think it is that,” Robert Jordan said. “But not today. Of all things; of all importance we must avoid it today.”
As he spoke he heard something. It was a noise far off that came above the sound of the warm wind in the trees. He could not be sure and he held his mouth open and listened, glancing up at Primitivo as he did so. He thought he heard it but then it was gone. The wind was blowing in the pines and now Robert Jordan strained all of himself to listen. Then he heard it faintly coming down the wind.
“It is nothing tragic with me,” he heard Agustín say. “That I should never have the Maria is nothing. I will go with the whores as always.”
“Shut up,” he said, not listening, and lying beside him, his head having been turned away. Agustín looked over at him suddenly.
“Qué pasa?” he asked.
Robert Jordan put his hand over his own mouth and went on listening. There it came again. It came faint, muted, dry and far away. But there was no mistaking it now. It was the precise, crackling, curling roll of automatic rifle fire. It sounded as though pack after pack of miniature firecrackers were going off at a distance that was almost out of hearing.
Robert Jordan looked up at Primitivo who had his head up now, his face looking toward them, his hand cupped to his ear. As he looked Primitivo pointed up the mountain toward the highest country.
“They are fighting at El Sordo’s,” Robert Jordan said.
“Then let us go to aid them,” Agustín said. “Collect the people. Vamonos.”
“No,” Robert Jordan said. “We stay here.”
25
Robert Jordan looked up at where Primitivo stood now in his lookout post, holding his rifle and pointing. He nodded his head but the man kept pointing, putting his hand to his ear and then pointing insistently and as though he could not possibly have been understood.
“Do you stay with this gun and unless it is sure, sure, sure that they are coming in do not fire. And then not until they reach that shrub,” Robert Jordan pointed. “Do you understand?”