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Chapter 41

           "Mevoy,"saidAnselmo."Untilsoon,Inglés."

           "Untilsoon,oldone,"RobertJordansaid.

           HerememberedhisfatherintherailwaystationandthewetnessofthatfarewellandhedidnotsaySaludnorgood-bynorgoodlucknoranythinglikethat.

           "Hastwipedtheoilfromtheboreofthygun,oldone?"hewhispered."Soitwillnotthrowwild?"

           "Inthecave,"Anselmosaid."Icleanedthemallwiththepull-through."

           "Thenuntilsoon,"RobertJordansaidandtheoldmanwentoff,noiselessonhisrope-soledshoes,swingingwidethroughthetrees.

           RobertJordanlayonthepine-needleflooroftheforestandlistenedtothefirststirringinthebranchesofthepinesofthewindthatwouldcomewithdaylight.Hetooktheclipoutofthesubmachinegunandworkedthelockbackandforth.Thenheturnedthegun,withthelockopenandinthedarkheputthemuzzletohislipsandblewthroughthebarrel,themetaltastinggreasyandoilyashistonguetouchedtheedgeofthebore.Helaidthegunacrosshisforearm,theactionupsothatnopineneedlesorrubbishcouldgetinit,andshuckedallthecartridgesoutoftheclipwithhisthumbandontoahandkerchiefhehadspreadinfrontofhim.Then,feelingeachcartridgeinthedarkandturningitinhisfingers,hepressedandslidthemoneatatimebackintotheclip.Nowtheclipwasheavyagaininhishandandhesliditbackintothesubmachinegunandfeltitclickhome.Helayonhisbellybehindthepinetrunk,thegunacrosshisleftforearmandwatchedthepointoflightbelowhim

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