«‘Hola’,» said the seated man. «What is this that comes?»
«The old man and a dynamiter,» Pablo told him and lowered the pack inside the entrance to the cave. Anselmo lowered his pack, too, and Robert Jordan unslung the rifle and leaned it against the rock.
«Don’t leave it so close to the cave,» the whittling man, who had blue eyes in a dark, good-looking lazy gypsy face, the color of smoked leather, said. «There’s a fire in there.»
«Get up and put it away thyself,» Pablo said. «Put it by that tree.»
The gypsy did not move but said something unprintable, then, «Leave it there. Blow thyself up,» he said lazily. «Twill cure thy diseases.»
«What do you make?» Robert Jordan sat down by the gypsy. The gypsy showed him. It was a figure four trap and he was whittling the crossbar for it.
«For foxes,» he said. «With a log for a dead-fall. It breaks their backs.» He grinned at Jordan. «Like this, see?» He made a motion of the framework of the trap collapsing, the log falling, then shook his head, drew in his hand, and spread his arms to show the fox with a broken back. «Very practical,» he explained.
«He catches rabbits,» Anselmo said. «He is a gypsy. So if he catches rabbits he says it is foxes. If he catches a fox he would say it was an elephant.»
«And if I catch an elephant?» the gypsy asked and showed his white teeth again and winked at Robert Jordan.
«You’d say it was a tank,» Anselmo told him.
«I’ll get a tank,» the gypsy told him. «I will get a tank. And you can say it is what you please.»
«Gypsies talk much and kill little,» Anselmo told him.
The gypsy winked at Robert Jordan and went on whittling.
Pablo had gone in out of sight in the cave. Robert Jordan hoped he had gone for food. He sat on the ground by the gypsy and the afternoon sunlight came down through the tree tops and was warm on his outstretched legs. He could smell food now in the cave, the smell of oil and of onions and of meat frying and his stomach moved with hunger inside of him.
«We can get a tank,» he said to the gypsy. «It is not too difficult.»
«With this?» the gypsy pointed toward the two sacks.
«Yes,» Robert Jordan told him. «I will teach you. You make a trap. It is not too difficult.»
«You and me?»
«Sure,» said Robert Jordan. «Why not?»
«Hey,» the gypsy said to Anselmo. «Move those two sacks to where they will be safe, will you? They’re valuable.»
Anselmo grunted. «I am going for wine,» he told Robert Jordan. Robert Jordan got up and lifted the sacks away from the cave entrance and leaned them, one on each side of a tree trunk. He knew what was in them and he never liked to see them close together.
«Bring a cup for me,» the gypsy told him.
«Is there wine?» Robert Jordan asked, sitting down again by the gypsy.
«Wine? Why not? A whole skinful. Half a skinful, anyway.»
«And what to eat?»
«Everything, man,» the gypsy said. «We eat like generals.»
«And what do gypsies do in the war?» Robert Jordan asked him.
«They keep on being gypsies.»
«That’s a good job.»
«The best,» the gypsy said. «How do they call thee?»
«Roberto. And thee?»
«Rafael. And this of the tank is serious?»
«Surely. Why not?»
Anselmo came out of the mouth of the cave with a deep stone basin full of red wine and with his fingers through the handles of three cups. «Look,» he said. «They have cups and all.» Pablo came out behind them.
«There is food soon,» he said. «Do you have tobacco?»
Robert Jordan went over to the packs and opening one, felt inside an inner pocket and brought out one of the flat boxes of Russian cigarettes he had gotten at Golz’s headquarters. He ran his thumbnail around the edge of the box and, opening the lid, handed them to Pablo who took half a dozen. Pablo, holding them in one of his huge hands, picked one up and looked at it against the light. They were long narrow cigarettes with pasteboard cylinders for mouthpieces.
«Much air and little tobacco,» he said. «I know these. The other with the rare name had them.»
«Kashkin,» Robert Jordan said and offered the cigarettes to the gypsy and Anselmo, who each took one.
«Take more,» he said and they each took another. He gave them each four more, they making a double nod with the hand holding the cigarettes so that the cigarette dipped its end as a man salutes with a sword, to thank him.
«Yes,» Pablo said. «It was a rare name.»
«Here is the wine.» Anselmo dipped a cup out of the bowl and handed it to Robert Jordan, then dipped for himself and the gypsy.
«Is there no wine for me?» Pablo asked. They were all sitting together by the cave entrance.
Anselmo handed him his cup and went into the cave for another. Coming out he leaned over the bowl and dipped the cup full and they all touched cup edges.
The wine was good, tasting faintly resinous from the wineskin, but excellent, light and clean on his tongue. Robert Jordan drank it slowly, feeling it spread warmly through his tiredness.
«The food comes shortly,» Pablo said. «And this foreigner with the rare name, how did he die?»
«He was captured and he killed himself.»
«How did that happen?»
«He was wounded and he did not wish to be a prisoner.»
«What were the details?»
«I don’t know,» he lied. He knew the details very well and he knew they would not make good talking now.
«He made us promise to shoot him in case he were wounded at the business of the train and should be unable to get away,» Pablo said. «He spoke in a very rare manner.»
He must have been jumpy even then, Robert Jordan thought. Poor old Kashkin.
«He had a prejudice against killing himself,» Pablo said. «He told me that. Also he had a great fear of being tortured.»
«Did he tell you that, too?» Robert Jordan asked him.
«Yes,» the gypsy said. «He spoke like that to all of us.»
«Were you at the train, too?»
«Yes. All of us were at the train.»
«He spoke in a very rare manner,» Pablo said. «But he was very brave.»
Poor old Kashkin, Robert Jordan thought. He must have been doing more harm than good around here. I wish I would have known he was that jumpy as far back as then. They should have Pulled him out. You can’t have people around doing this sort of Work and talking like that. That is no way to talk. Even if they accomplish their mission they are doing more harm than good, talking that sort of stuff.
«He was a little strange,» Robert Jordan said. «I think he was a little crazy.»
«But very dexterous at producing explosions,» the gypsy said. «And very brave.»
«But crazy,» Robert Jordan said. «In this you have to have very much head and be very cold in the head. That was no way to talk.»
«And you,» Pablo said. «If you are wounded in such a thing as this bridge, you would be willing to be left behind?»
«Listen,» Robert Jordan said and, leaning forward, he dipped himself another cup of the wine. «Listen to me clearly. If ever I should have any little favors to ask of any man, I will ask him at the time.»
«Good,» said the gypsy approvingly. «In this way speak the good ones. Ah! Here it comes.»
«You have eaten,» said Pablo.
«And I can eat twice more,» the gypsy told him. «Look now who brings it.»
The girl stooped as she came out of the cave mouth carrying the big iron cooking platter and Robert Jordan saw her face turned at an angle and at the same time saw the strange thing about her. She smiled and said, «‘Hola’, Comrade,» and Robert Jordan said, «‘Salud’,» and was careful not to stare and not to look away. She set down the flat iron platter in front of him and he noticed her handsome brown hands. Now she looked him full in the face and smiled. Her teeth were white in her brown face and her skin and her eyes were the same golden tawny brown. She had high cheekbones, merry eyes and a straight mouth with full lips. Her hair was the golden brown of a grain field that has been burned dark in the sun but it was cut short all over her head so that it was but little longer than the fur on a beaver pelt. She smiled in Robert Jordan’s face and put her brown hand up and ran it over her head, flattening the hair which rose again as her hand passed. She has a beautiful face, Robert Jordan thought. She’d be beautiful if they hadn’t cropped her hair.
«That is the way I comb it,» she said to Robert Jordan and laughed. «Go ahead and eat. Don’t stare at me. They gave me this haircut in Valladolid. It’s almost grown out now.»
She sat down opposite him and looked at him. He looked back at her and she smiled and folded her hands together over her knees. Her legs slanted long and clean from the open cuffs of the trousers as she sat with her hands across her knees and he could see the shape
