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Chapter 43

           Thepack-horsewasaheadofhimswingingtoofartotherightandslowingdownandRobertJordan,galloping,hisheadturnedalittletowardthebridge,sawthelineoftruckshaltedbehindtheturnthatshowednowclearlyashewasgainingheight,andhesawthebrightyellowflashthatsignalledtheinstantwhishandboom,andtheshellfellshort,butheheardthemetalsailingfromwherethedirtrose.

           Hesawthemallaheadintheedgeofthetimberwatchinghimandhesaid,"Arrecaballo!Goon,horse!"andfelthisbighorse’schestsurgingwiththesteepeningoftheslopeandsawthegrayneckstretchingandthegrayearsaheadandhereachedandpattedthewetgrayneck,andhelookedbackatthebridgeandsawthebrightflashfromtheheavy,squat,mud-coloredtankthereontheroadandthenhedidnothearanywhishbutonlyabangingacridsmellingclanglikeaboilerbeingrippedapartandhewasunderthegrayhorseandthegrayhorsewaskickingandhewastryingtopulloutfromundertheweight.

           Hecouldmoveallright.Hecouldmovetowardtheright.Buthisleftlegstayedperfectlyflatunderthehorseashemovedtotheright.Itwasasthoughtherewasanewjointinit;notthehipjointbutanotheronethatwentsidewayslikeahinge.

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