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Chapter 27

           "Takethis,"themansaidandrollingonhissidehepulledawineskinthatheworeslungfromhisshoulderoverhisheadandhandedittoSordo."Washthymouthout,oldone.Thoumusthavemuchthirstwiththywounds."

           "Letalltakeit,"Sordosaid.

           "ThenIwillhavesomefirst,"theownersaidandsquirtedalongstreamintohismouthbeforehehandedtheleatherbottlearound.

           "Sordo,whenthinkestthoutheplaneswillcome?"themanwithhischininthedirtasked.

           "Anytime,"saidSordo."Theyshouldhavecomebefore."

           "Doyouthinkthesesonsofthegreatwhorewillattackagain?"

           "Onlyiftheplanesdonotcome."

           Hedidnotthinktherewasanyneedtospeakaboutthemortar.Theywouldknowitsoonenoughwhenthemortarcame.

           "Godknowsthey’veenoughplaneswithwhatwesawyesterday."

           "Toomany,"Sordosaid.

           Hisheadhurtverymuchandhisarmwasstiffeningsothatthepainofmovingitwasalmostunbearable.Helookedupatthebright,high,blueearlysummerskyasheraisedtheleatherwinebottlewithhisgoodarm.Hewasfifty-twoyearsoldandhewassurethiswasthelasttimehewouldseethatsky.

           Hewasnotatallafraidofdyingbuthewasangryatbeingtrappedonthishillwhichwasonlyutilizableasaplacetodie.Ifwecouldhavegottenclear,hethought.Ifwecouldhavemadethemcomeupthelongvalleyorifwecouldhavebrokenlooseacrosstheroaditwouldhavebeenallright.Butthischancreofahill.Wemustuseitaswellaswecanandwehaveuseditverywellsofar.

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