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Chapter 43

           Buttherewasnoliftoranyexcitementinhisheart.Thatwasallgoneandtherewasnothingbutacalmness.Andnow,ashecrouchedbehindthemarkerstonewiththeloopedwireinhishandandanotherloopofitaroundhiswristandthegravelbesidetheroadunderhiskneeshewasnotlonelynordidhefeelinanywayalone.Hewasonewiththewireinhishandandonewiththebridge,andonewiththechargestheIngléshadplaced.HewasonewiththeInglésstillworkingunderthebridgeandhewasonewithallofthebattleandwiththeRepublic.

           Buttherewasnoexcitement.Itwasallcalmnowandthesunbeatdownonhisneckandonhisshouldersashecrouchedandashelookeduphesawthehigh,cloudlessskyandtheslopeofthemountainrisingbeyondtheriverandhewasnothappybuthewasneitherlonelynorafraid.

           UpthehillslopePilarlaybehindatreewatchingtheroadthatcamedownfromthepass.ShehadthreeloadedriflesbyherandshehandedonetoPrimitivoashedroppeddownbesideher.

           "Getdownthere,"shesaid."Behindthattree.Thou,gypsy,overthere,"shepointedtoanothertreebelow."Ishedead?"

           "Nay.Notyet,"Primitivosaid.

           "Itwasbadluck,"Pilarsaid."Ifwehadhadtwomoreitneednothavehappened.Heshouldhavecrawledaroundthesawdustpile.Isheallrighttherewhereheis?"

           Primitivoshookhishead.

           "WhentheInglésblowsthebridgewillfragmentscomethisfar?"thegypsyaskedfrombehindhistree.

           "Idon’tknow,"Pilarsaid."ButAgustínwiththemáquinaiscloserthanthee.

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