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Chapter 21

           Aimingatthecenterofhischest,alittlelowerthanthedevice,RobertJordanfired.

           Thepistolroaredinthesnowywoods.

           Thehorseplungedasthoughhehadbeenspurredandtheyoungman,stilltuggingatthescabbard,slidovertowardtheground,hisrightfootcaughtinthestirrup.Thehorsebrokeoffthroughthetreesdragginghim,bumping,facedownward,andRobertJordanstoodupholdingthepistolnowinonehand.

           Thebiggrayhorsewasgallopingthroughthepines.Therewasabroadswathinthesnowwherethemandraggedwithascarletstreakalongonesideofit.Peoplewerecomingoutofthemouthofthecave.RobertJordanreacheddownandunrolledhistrousersfromthepillowandbegantoputthemon.

           "Gettheedressed,"hesaidtoMaria.

           Overheadheheardthenoiseofaplaneflyingveryhigh.Throughthetreeshesawwherethegrayhorsehadstoppedandwasstanding,hisriderstillhangingfacedownfromthestirrup.

           "Gocatchthathorse,"hecalledtoPrimitivowhohadstartedovertowardhim.Then,"Whowasonguardatthetop?"

           "Rafael,"Pilarsaidfromthecave.Shestoodthere,herhairstilldownherbackintwobraids.

           "There’scavalryout,"RobertJordansaid."Getyourdamnedgunupthere."

           HeheardPilarcall,"Agustín,"intothecave.Thenshewentintothecaveandthentwomencamerunningout,onewiththeautomaticriflewithitstripodswungonhisshoulder;theotherwithasackfulofthepans.

           "Getuptherewiththem,"RobertJordansaidtoAnselmo.

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