They came down the last two hundred yards, moving carefully from tree to tree in the shadows and now, through the last pines of the steep hillside, the bridge was only fifty yards away. The late afternoon sun that still came over the brown shoulder of the mountain showed the bridge dark against the steep emptiness of the gorge1. It was a steel bridge of a single span and there was a sentry2 box at each end. It was wide enough for two motor cars to pass and it spanned, in solid-flung metal grace, a deep gorge at the bottom of which, far below, a brook3 leaped in white water through rocks and boulders4 down to the main stream of the pass.
The sun was in Robert Jordan's eyes and the bridge showed only in outline. Then the sun lessened5 and was gone and looking up through the trees at the brown, rounded height that it had gone behind, he saw, now, that he no longer looked into the glare, that the mountain slope was a delicate new green and that there were patches of old snow under the crest6.
Then he was watching the bridge again in the sudden short trueness of the little light that would be left, and studying its construction. The problem of its demolition7 was not difficult. As he watched he took out a notebook from his breast pocket and made several quick line sketches8. As he made the drawings he did not figure the charges. He would do that later. Now he was noting the points where the explosive should be placed in order to cut the support of the span and drop a section of it into the gorge. It could be done unhurriedly, scientifically and correctly with a half dozen charges laid and braced9 to explode simultaneously10; or it could be done roughly with two big ones. They would need to be very big ones, on opposite sides and should go at the same time. He sketched11 quickly and happily; glad at last to have the problem under his hand; glad at last actually to be engaged upon it. Then he shut his notebook, pushed the pencil into its leather holder12 in the edge of the flap, put the notebook in his pocket and buttoned the pocket.
While he had sketched, Anselmo had been watching the road, the bridge and the sentry boxes. He thought they had come too close to the bridge for safety and when the sketching13 was finished, he was relieved.
As Robert Jordan buttoned the flap of his pocket and then lay flat behind the pine trunk, looking out from behind it, Anselmo put his hand on his elbow and pointed14 with one finger.
In the sentry box that faced toward them up the road, the sentry was sitting holding his rifle, the bayonet fixed15, between his knees. He was smoking a cigarette and he wore a knitted cap and blanket style cape16. At fifty yards, you could not see anything about his face. Robert Jordan put up his field glasses, shading the lenses carefully with his cupped hands even though there was now no sun to make a glint, and there was the rail of the bridge as clear as though you could reach out and touch it and there was the face of the senty so clear he could see the sunken cheeks, the ash on the cigarette and the greasy17 shine of the bayonet. It was a peasant's face, the cheeks hollow under the high cheekbones, the beard stubbled, the eyes shaded by the heavy brows, big hands holding the rifle, heavy boots showing beneath the folds of the blanket cape. There was a worn, blackened leather wine bottle on the wall of the sentry box, there were some newspapers and there was no telephone. There could, of course, be a telephone on the side he could not see; but there were no wires running from the box that were visible. A telephone line ran along the road and its wires were carried over the bridge. There was a charcoal18 brazier outside the sentry box, made from an old petrol tin with the top cut off and holes punched in it, which rested on two stones; but he held no fire. There were some fire-blackened empty tins in the ashes under it.
Robert Jordan handed the glasses to Anselmo who lay flat beside him. The old man grinned and shook his head. He tapped his skull19 beside his eye with one finger.
"_Ya lo veo_," he said in Spanish. "I have seen him," speaking from the front of his mouth with almost no movement of his lips in the way that is quieter than any whisper. He looked at the sentry as Robert Jordan smiled at him and, pointing with one finger, drew the other across his throat. Robert Jordan nodded but he did not smile.
The sentry box at the far end of the bridge faced away from them and down the road and they could not see into it. The road, which was broad and oiled and well constructed, made a turn to the left at the far end of the bridge and then swung out of sight around a curve to the right. At this point it was enlarged from the old road to its present width by cutting into the solid bastion of the rock on the far side of the gorge; and its left or western edge, looking down from the pass and the bridge, was marked and protected by a line of upright cut blocks of stone where its edge fell sheer away to the gorge. The gorge was almost a canyon20 here, where the brook, that the bridge was flung over, merged21 with the main stream of the pass.
"And the other post?" Robert Jordan asked Anselmo.
"Five hundred meters below that turn. In the roadmender's hut that is built into the side of the rock."
"How many men?" Robert Jordan asked.
He was watching the sentry again with his glasses. The sentry rubbed his cigarette out on the plank22 wall of the box, then took a leather tobacco pouch23 from his pocket, opened the paper of the dead cigarette and emptied the remnant of used tobacco into the pouch. The sentry stood up, leaned his rifle against the wall of the box and stretched, then picked up his rifle, slung24 it over his shoulder and walked out onto the bridge. Anselmo flattened25 on the ground and Robert Jordan slipped his glasses into his shirt pocket and put his head well behind the pine tree.
"There are seven men and a corporal," Anselmo said close to his ear. "I informed myself from the gypsy."
"We will go now as soon as he is quiet," Robert Jordan said. "We are too close."
"Hast thou seen what thou needest?"
"Yes. All that I need."
It was getting cold quickly now with the sun down and the light was failing as the afterglow from the last sunlight on the mountains behind them faded.
"How does it look to thee?" Anselmo said softly as they watched the sentry walk across the bridge toward the other box, his bayonet bright in the last of the afterglow, his figure unshapely in the blanket coat.
"Very good," Robert Jordan said. "Very, very good."
"I am glad," Anselmo said. "Should we go? Now there is no chance that he sees us."
The sentry was standing26, his back toward them, at the far end of the bridge. From the gorge came the noise of the stream in the boulders. Then through this noise came another noise, a steady, racketing drone and they saw the sentry looking up, his knitted cap slanted27 back, and turning their heads and looking up they saw, high in the evening sky, three monoplanes in V formation, showing minute and silvery at that height where there still was sun, passing unbelievably quickly across the sky, their motors now throbbing28 steadily29.
"Ours?" Anselmo asked.
"They seem so," Robert Jordan said but knew that at that height you never could be sure. They could be an evening patrol of either side. But you always said pursuit planes were ours because it made people feel better. Bombers30 were another matter.
Anselmo evidently felt the same. "They are ours," he said. "I recognize them. They are _Moscas_."
"Good," said Robert Jordan. "They seem to me to be _Moscas_, too."
"They are _Moscas_," Anselmo said.
Robert Jordan could have put the glasses on them and been sure instantly but he preferred not to. It made no difference to him who they were tonight and if it pleased the old man to have them be ours, he did not want to take them away. Now, as they moved out of sight toward Segovia, they did not look to be the green, red wing-tipped, low wing Russian conversion31 of the Boeing P32 that the Spaniards called _Moscas_. You could not see the colors but the cut was wrong. No. It was a Fascist32 Patrol coming home.
The sentry was still standing at the far box with his back turned.
"Let us go," Robert Jordan said. He started up the hill, moving carefully and taking advantage of the cover until they were out of sight. Anselmo followed him at a hundred yards distance. When they were well out of sight of the bridge, he stopped and the old man came up and went into the lead and climbed steadily through the pass, up the steep slope in the dark.
"We have a formidable aviation," the old man said happily.
"Yes."
"And we will win."
"We have to win."
"Yes. And after we have won you must come to hunt."
"To hunt what?"
"The boar, the bear, the wolf, the ibex--"
"You like to hunt?"
"Yes, man. More than anything. We all hunt in my village. You do not like to hunt?"
"No," said Robert Jordan. "I do not like to kill animals."
"With me it is the opposite," the old man said. "I do not like to kill men."
"Nobody does except those who are disturbed in the head," Robert Jordan said. "But I feel nothing against it when it is necessary. When it is for the cause."
"It is a different thing, though," Anselmo said. "In my house, when I had a house, and now I have no house, there were the tusks33 of boar I had shot in the lower forest. There were the hides of wolves I had shot. In the winter, hunting them in the snow. One very big one, I killed at dusk in the outskirts34 of the village on my way home one night in November. There were four wolf hides on the floor of my house. They were worn by stepping on them but they were wolf hides. There were the horns of ibex that I had killed in the high Sierra, and there was an eagle stuffed by an embalmer35 of birds of Avila, with his wings spread, and eyes as yellow and real as the eyes of an eagle alive. It was a very beautiful thing and all of those things gave me great pleasure to contemplate36."
"Yes," said Robert Jordan.
"On the door of the church of my village was nailed the paw of a bear that I killed in the spring, finding him on a hillside in the snow, overturning a log with this same paw."
"When was this?"
"Six years ago. And every time I saw that paw, like the hand of a man, but with those long claws, dried and nailed through the palm to the door of the church, I received a pleasure."
"Of pride?"
"Of pride of remembrance of the encounter with the bear on that hillside in the early spring. But of the killing37 of a man, who is a man as we are, there is nothing good that remains38."
"You can't nail his paw to the church," Robert Jordan said.
"No. Such a barbarity is unthinkable. Yet the hand of a man is like the paw of a bear."
"So is the chest of a man like the chest of a bear," Robert Jordan said. "With the hide removed from the bear, there are many similarities in the muscles."
"Yes," Anselmo said. "The gypsies believe the bear to be a brother of man."
"So do the Indians in America," Robert Jordan said. "And when they kill a bear they apologize to him and ask his pardon. They put his skull in a tree and they ask him to forgive them before they leave it."
"The gypsies believe the bear to be a brother to man because he has the same body beneath his hide, because he drinks beer, because he enjoys music and because he likes to dance."
"So also believe the Indians."
"Are the Indians then gypsies?"
"No. But they believe alike about the bear."
"Clearly. The gypsies also believe he is a brother because he steals for pleasure."
"Have you gypsy blood?"
"No. But I have seen much of them and clearly, since the movement, more. There are many in the hills. To them it is not a sin to kill outside the tribe. They deny this but it is true."
"Like the Moors39."
"Yes. But the gypsies have many laws they do not admit to having. In the war many gypsies have become bad again as they were in olden times."
"They do not understand why the war is made. They do not know for what we fight."
"No," Anselmo said. "They only know now there is a war and people may kill again as in the olden times without a surety of punishment."
"You have killed?" Robert Jordan asked in the intimacy40 of the dark and of their day together.
"Yes. Several times. But not with pleasure. To me it is a sin to kill a man. Even Fascists41 whom we must kill. To me there is a great difference between the bear and the man and I do not believe the wizardry of the gypsies about the brotherhood42 with animals. No. I am against all killing of men."
"Yet you have killed."
"Yes. And will again. But if I live later, I will try to live in such a way, doing no harm to any one, that it will be forgiven."
"By whom?"
"Who knows? Since we do not have God here any more, neither His Son nor the Holy Ghost, who forgives? I do not know."
"You have not God any more?"
"No. Man. Certainly not. If there were God, never would He have permitted what I have seen with my eyes. Let _them_ have God."
"They claim Him."
"Clearly I miss Him, having been brought up in religion. But now a man must be responsible to himself."
"Then it is thyself who will forgive thee for killing."
"I believe so," Anselmo said. "Since you put it clearly in that way I believe that must be it. But with or without God, I think it is a sin to kill. To take the life of another is to me very grave. I will do it whenever necessary but I am not of the race of Pablo."
"To win a war we must kill our enemies. That has always been true."
"Clearly. In war we must kill. But I have very rare ideas," Anselmo said.
They were walking now close together in the dark and he spoke43 softly, sometimes turning his head as he climbed. "I would not kill even a Bishop44. I would not kill a proprietor45 of any kind. I would make them work each day as we have worked in the fields and as we work in the mountains with the timbet all of the rest of their lives. So they would see what man is born to. That they should sleep where we sleep. That they should eat as we eat. But above all that they should work. Thus they would learn."
"And they would survive to enslave thee again."
"To kill them teaches nothing," Anselmo said. "You cannot exterminate46 them because from their seed comes more with greater hatred47. Prison is nothing. Prison only makes hatred. That all our enemies should learn."
"But still thou hast killed."
"Yes," Anselmo said. "Many times and will again. But not with pleasure and regarding it as a sin."
"And the sentry. You joked of killing the sentry."
"That was in joke. I would kill the sentry. Yes. Certainly and with a clear heart considering our task. But not with pleasure."
"We will leave them to those who enjoy it," Robert Jordan said. "There are eight and five. That is thirteen for those who enjoy it."
"There are many of those who enjoy it," Anselmo said in the dark. "We have many of those. More of those than of men who would serve for a battle."
"Hast thou ever been in a battle?"
"Nay," the old man said. "We fought in Segovia at the start of the movement but we were beaten and we ran. I ran with the others. We did not truly understand what we were doing, nor how it should be done. Also I had only a shotgun with cartridges48 of large buckshot and the _guardia civil_ had Mausers. I could not hit them with buckshot at a hundred yards, and at three hundred yards they shot us as they wished as though we were rabbits. They shot much and well and we were like sheep before them." He was silent. Then asked, "Thinkest thou there will be a battle at the bridge?"
"There is a chance."
"I have never seen a battle without running," Anselmo said. "I do not know how I would comport49 myself. I am an old man and I have wondered."
"I will respond for thee," Robert Jordan told him.
"And hast thou been in many battles?"
"Several."
"And what thinkest thou of this of the bridge?"
"First I think of the bridge. That is my business. It is not difficult to destroy the bridge. Then we will make the dispositions50 for the rest. For the preliminaries. It will all be written."
"Very few of these people read," Anselmo said.
"It will be written for every one's knowledge so that all know, but also it will be clearly explained."
"I will do that to which I am assigned," Anselmo said. "But remembering the shooting in Segovia, if there is to be a battle or even much exchanging of shots, I would wish to have it very clear what I must do under all circumstances to avoid running. I remember that I had a great tendency to run at Segovia."
"We will be together," Robert Jordan told him. "I will tell you what there is to do at all times."
"Then there is no problem," Anselmo said. "I can do anything that I am ordered."
"For us will be the bridge and the battle, should there be one," Robert Jordan said and saying it in the dark, he felt a little theatrical51 but it sounded well in Spanish.
"It should be of the highest interest," Anselmo said and hearing him say it honestly and clearly and with no pose, neither the English pose of understatement nor any Latin bravado52, Robert Jordan thought he was very lucky to have this old man and having seen the bridge and worked out and simplified the problem it would have been to surprise the posts and blow it in a normal way, he resented Golz's orders, and the necessity for them. He resented them for what they could do to him and for what they could do to this old man. They were bad orders all right for those who would have to carry them out.
And that is not the way to think, he told himself, and there is not you, and there are no people that things must not happen to. Neither you nor this old man is anything. You are instruments to do your duty. There are necessary orders that are no fault of yours and there is a bridge and that bridge can be the point on which the future of the human race can turn. As it can turn on everything that happens in this war. You have only one thing to do and you must do it. Only one thing, hell, he thought. If it were one thing it was easy. Stop worrying, you windy bastard53, he said to himself. Think about something else.
So he thought about the girl Maria, with her skin, the hair and the eyes all the same golden tawny54 brown, the hair a little darker than the rest but it would be lighter55 as her skin tanned deeper, the smooth skin, pale gold on the surface with a darkness underneath56. Smooth it would be, all of her body smooth, and she moved awkwardly as though there were something of her and about her that embarrassed her as though it were visible, though it was not, but only in her mind. And she blushed with he looked at her, and she sitting, her hands clasped around her knees and the shirt open at the throat, the cup of her breasts uptilted against the shirt, and as he thought of her, his throat was choky and there was a difficulty in walking and he and Anselmo spoke no more until the old man said, "Now we go down through these rocks and to the camp."
As they came through the rocks in the dark, a man spoke to them, "Halt. Who goes?" They heard a rifle bolt snick as it was drawn57 back and then the knock against the wood as it was pushed forward and down on the stock.
"Comrades," Anselmo said.
"What comrades?"
"Comrades of Pablo," the old man told him. "Dost thou not know us?"
"Yes," the voice said. "But it is an order. Have you the password?"
"No. We come from below."
"I know," the man said in the dark. "You come from the bridge. I know all of that. The order is not mine. You must know the second half of a password."
"What is the first half then?" Robert Jordan said.
"I have forgotten it," the man said in the dark and laughed. "Go then unprintably to the campfire with thy obscene dynamite58."
"That is called guerilla discipline," Anselmo said. "Uncock thy piece."
"It is uncocked," the man said in the dark. "I let it down with my thumb and forefinger59."
"Thou wilt60 do that with a Mauser sometime which has no knurl on the bolt and it will fire."
"This is a Mauser," the man said. "But I have a grip of thumb and forefinger beyond description. Always I let it down that way."
"Where is the rifle pointed?" asked Anselmo into the dark.
"At thee," the man said, "all the time that I descended61 the bolt. And when thou comest to the camp, order that some one should relieve me because I have indescribable and unprintable hunger and I have forgotten the password."
"How art thou called?" Robert Jordan asked.
"Agust璯," the man said. "I am called Agust璯 and I am dying with boredom62 in this spot."
"We will take the message," Robert Jordan said and he thought how the word _aburmiento_ which means boredom in Spanish was a word no peasant would use in any other language. Yet it is one of the most common words in the mouth of a Spaniard of any class.
"Listen to me," Agust璯 said, and coming close he put his hand on Robert Jordan's shoulder. Then striking a flint and steel together he held it up and blowing on the end of the cork63, looked at the young man's face in its glow.
"You look like the other one," he said. "But something different. Listen," he put the lighter down and stood holding his rifle. "Tell me this. Is it true about the bridge?"
"What about the bridge?"
"That we blow up an obscene bridge and then have to obscenely well obscenity ourselves off out of these mountains?"
"I know not."
"_You_ know not," Agust璯 said. "What a barbarity! Whose then is the dynamite?"
"Mine."
"And knowest thou not what it is for? Don't tell me tales."
"I know what it is for and so will you in time," Robert Jordan said. "But now we go to the camp."
"Go to the unprintable," Agust璯 said. "And unprint thyself. But do you want me to tell you something of service to you?"
"Yes," said Robert Jordan. "If it is not unprintable," naming the principal obscenity that had larded the conversation. The man, Agust璯, spoke so obscenely, coupling an obscenity to every noun as an adjective, using the same obscenity as a verb, that Robert Jordan wondered if he could speak a straight sentence. Agust璯 laughed in the dark when he heard the word. "It is a way of speaking I have. Maybe it is ugly. Who knows? Each one speaks according to his manner. Listen to me. The bridge is nothing to me. As well the bridge as another thing. Also I have a boredom in these mountains. That we should go if it is needed. These mountains say nothing to me. That we should leave them. But I would say one thing. Guard well thy explosive."
"Thank you," Robert Jordan said. "From thee?"
"No," Agust璯 said. "From people less unprintably equipped than I."
"So?" asked Robert Jordan.
"You understand Spanish," Agust璯 said seriously now. "Care well for thy unprintable explosive."
"Thank you."
"No. Don't thank me. Look after thy stuff."
"Has anything happened to it?"
"No, or I would not waste thy time talking in this fashion."
"Thank you all the same. We go now to camp."
"Good," said Agust璯, "and that they send some one here who knows the password."
"Will we see you at the camp?"
"Yes, man. And shortly."
"Come on," Robert Jordan said to Anselmo.
They were walking down the edge of the meadow now and there was a gray mist. The grass was lush underfoot after the pineneedle floor of the forest and the dew on the grass wet through their canvas rope-soled shoes. Ahead, through the trees, Robert Jordan Could see a light where he knew the mouth of the cave must be.
"Agust璯 is a very good man," Anselmo said. "He speaks very filthily64 and always in jokes but he is a very serious man."
"You know him well?"
"Yes. For a long time. I have much confidence in him."
"And what he says?"
"Yes, man. This Pablo is bad now, as you could see."
"And the best thing to do?"
"One shall guard it at all times."
"Who?"
"You. Me. The woman and Agust璯. Since he sees the danger."
"Did you think things were as bad as they are here?"
"No," Anselmo said. "They have gone bad very fast. But it was necessary to come here. This is the country of Pablo and of El Sordo. In their country we must deal with them unless it is something that can be done alone."
"And El Sordo?"
"Good," Anselmo said. "As good as the other is bad."
"You believe now that he is truly bad?"
"All afternoon I have thought of it and since we have heard what we have heard, I think now, yes. Truly."
"It would not be better to leave, speaking of another bridge, and obtain men from other bands?"
"No," Anselmo said. "This is his country. You could not move that he would not know it. But one must move with much precautions."
他们赶着最后的二百码路程，在树荫下小心翼翼地从这棵树移动到那棵树，这时，穿过陡峭的山坡上最后几棵松树，离桥只有五十码了。。“阳仍然越过褐色的山肩照来，那座桥被睃峭的峡谷间的辽阔空间衬托着，显得黑魆魅的。那是一座单孔铁桥，两端各有一个岗亭。桥面很宽,可以并行两辆汽车。线条优美的坚固的铁桥横跨深谷,在下面深深的谷底，白浪翻滚的河水淹过大块圆石，奔向山口那边的主流。
阳光正对着罗伯特 乔丹的眼睛，那座桥只现出一个剪影。随着太阳落到圆滚滚的褐色山头后边，阳光减弱消失,他透过树林眺望这山头，这时他不再直视着剌眼的阳光，发现山坡竟是一片葱翠的新绿，山峰下还有一摊摊积雪。
接着他在那短暂的余辉中又望望那突然显得真切的铁桥，观察它的结构。要炸掉这座桥并不难。他一面望着，一面从胸口衣袋里掏出一本笔记本，迅速勾勒了几张草图。他在本子上画图时并不同时计算炸药用量。他要以后再计算。他现在注意的是安放炸药的位置,以揮炸断桥面的支撑，让桥的一部分塌到峡谷中去。安放五六个炸药包，同时引爆，就能从容不迫，井井有条而正确无误地干成功；要不然，用两个大炸药包也能大致完成。那就捕要非常大的炸药包，放在两面同时引爆。他高兴而快速地勾勒着草图；他为了终于着手处理这件事，终于真的动手干起来而髙兴。他接考合上笔记本，把铅笔插进本子护封里边的皮套，把笔记本藏进衣袋,扣好袋盖
他画草图的时候，安塞尔莫监视着公硌、铁桥和岗亭。他认为他们太接近桥,未免危险，草图画完后,他才算松了口气。
罗伯特 乔丹扣好衣袋盖,匍匐在一棵松树后面，从那里了望。安塞尔莫把手搭在他胳膊肘上，用一个指头指点。
公路这一头面对着他们的岗亭里坐着一个哨兵，膝间夹着一支上了刺刀的步枪。他正在抽烟,头上戴着顶绒线椹，身上穿着件毯子式的披风。相距五十码，没法看清他脸上的五官。罗伯特 乔丹举起望远镜，尽管现在没一点阳光,他还是两手捏成空拳，小心地围着镜片，以免产生反光，被哨兵发现，于是桥上的栏杆显得非常淸晰,仿佛伸手就能摸到似的,而那哨兵的脸也清清楚楚，连他那凹陷的腮帮、香烟上的烟灰和剌刀上闪亮着的油迹都历历在目。那是一张农民的脸,高颧骨下服帮凹陷，满面胡子茬，浓眉毛遮着眼睛，一双大手握着枪，毪子式的披风下面鱔出了笨重的长统靴。岗亭埔上挂着一只磨得发黑的皮酒袋，还有一些报纸，但没有电话机。”当然，在他看不到的另外一边可能有架电话机；但是看不到岗亭四周有通到外面的电线。沿公路有一条电话线通过铁桥。岗亭外边有一只炭火盆，是用一只旧汽油桶做的，截去了桶顶，桶壁上凿了几个洞，架在两块石头上，但盆里没生火。火盆下面的灰里有几只烧黑了的空铁縑。
罗伯特、乔丹把望远镜递给平躺在他身旁的安塞尔莫。老头儿露齿笑笑，摇摇头。他用手指敲敲自己眼睛边的太阳穴。
“我看见过他，”他用西班牙话说。他用嘴尖讲话，嘴唇几乎不动，这样发出的声音比耳语还低。”罗伯特 乔丹冲着他揪笑,他呢，注视着哨兵，一手指着哨兵，用另一手的食指在自己脖子上划了一下，罗伯特 乔丹点点头，但没有笑。
桥另一头的岗亭背对着他们，朝着公路下段，因此他们看不
到里面的情况。这条公路很宽，浇过柏油，铺得很道地，在较远的那个桥堍向左拐弯，再绕一个大弯子向右面拐出去，看不见了。眼前这一段公路是劈去峡谷那一边坚固的石壁，在旧路面的基础上加宽到现有的宽度的；从山口和桥上望下去,公路的左边，也就是西边，面临陡峭的峡谷的地方，竖着一排劈下来的石块做界石，作为防护。这里的峡谷十分幽深，上面架着桥的溪水和山口的主流在这里汇合。
“另外那个哨所呢?”罗伯特 乔丹问安塞尔莫，“从那个拐弯过去五百米。在靠着石壁盖起的养路工的小屋边。“
“有多少人?”罗伯特 乔丹问。
他又用望远镜观察那个哨兵。只见哨兵在岗亭的木板墙上揿熄烟卷,然后从口袋里掏出一只烟荷包，剥开那熄掉的烟蒂的烟纸，把剩下的烟丝倒进荷包。哨兵站起来，把步枪靠在岗亭的墙上，伸了“个懒腰，然后拿起步枪，挎在肩上，走到桥面上。安塞尔莫身体贴在地上，罗伯特 乔丹把望远镜塞进衣袋,脑袋闪在一棵松树后面。
“一起有七个士兵和一个班长。”安塞尔莫凑近他的耳朵说，“我是从吉普赛人那儿打听来的。”
“等他停下来，我们就走，”罗伯特，乔丹说，“我们太近了。”
“你要看的东西都看到了”“不错。我要看的都看到了。“
随着。“阳西沉，他们身后的山上的。“照逐渐消失,天气马上冷起来，天色也越来越暗了。
“你认为怎么样”安塞尔莫低声问，他们望着那哨兵跨过桥
面，向另一个岗亭走去,他的剌刀在。“阳的余辉中闪闪发亮，他披着那件毯子式的外衣，形状很古怪。
“非常好，”罗伯特，乔丹说。“非常、非常好。“我挺高兴。“安塞尔莫说。“我们走好吧？他现在不会发现我们了。
哨兵在桥的那一头，背对他们站着。峡谷里传来溪水流过圆石间的淙淙声。接着，夹在流水声中响起了另一种声音,一种持续不断的响亮的隆隆声。他们看到哨兵抬起头来，帽子推到后脑勺上。他们掉头仰望，只见高空中有三架列成乂字队形的单翼飞机,在还照得到阳光的上空显得清清楚楚，银光闪闪。飞机越过天空，快得难以置信，马达声震响个不停。“我们的?”安塞尔莫问。
“好象是我们的，”罗伯特 乔丹说，但是他明白，飞得这样髙，根本没法断定。既可能是我方，也可能是敌方在傍晚作巡逻飞行。不过人们总是说驱逐机是我们的，因为这使人感到安慰 轰炸机可是另外一回事。
安塞尔莫显然也有同样的感觉。“是我们的飞机。”他说。“我认识这些飞机。这些是蝇式。”
“对，”罗伯特 乔丹说。“我看也象是我们的蝇式。”“这是些蝇式，”安塞尔莫说。
罗伯特 乔丹原可以把望远镜对准飞机,马上看个分明，但他觉得还是不看为好。今晚,这些飞机是谁的,对他都一样。如果把它们当作我们的会使老头儿高兴，他何苦使他失望呢。飞机现在越出棵野，向塞哥维亚飞去，看来它们不象是俄国人玫装的那种有绿机身、红翼梢、机翼安在机身下面的波音。”32型飞机。西班牙人把这种飞机叫作蝇式。颜色潢不清,但式样显然不对头。
”不。那是返航的法西斯巡逻机队“
哨兵仍旧背着身，站在远处的岗亭边。“我们走吧，”罗伯特，乔丹说。他开始上山,小心翼翼地爬着,利用地形,避开桥那面的视线。安塞尔莫跟在他后面，相距一百码。罗伯特 乔丹走到从挢上不可能望见他们的地方，就站停了脚步，老头儿赶上来，走到前面去带路，不慌不忙地摸黑爬着,穿过山口，肫上那陡峭的山坡。
“咱们的空军真了不起，”老头儿高兴地说。“对。”
“我们准打胜仗。”“我们必须胜利。”
“是啊。我们胜利后你一定要来这儿打猎。“打什么?”
“野猪、熊、狼、野山羊~”“你喜欢打猎吗?”
“是啊，老弟。比啥都喜欢。我们村里人人都打猎。你不喜欢打猎吗?”
“不喜欢，”罗伯特”乔丹说。“我不喜欢杀死动物。“我呐，正好相反，”老头儿说。“我不喜欢杀人。”“除了那些头脑不对劲的人，谁都不客欢杀人。“罗伯特 乔丹说。“可是在必要的时候,我一点也不反对，尤其是为了我们的事业的时候。”
“打猎可是另一回事，”安塞尔莫说。“我现在没有家了，以前可有过,在我家里藏着我在山下树林里打来的野猪的牙齿。还有我打到的狼的皮。那是冬天在雪地里打的。有一条梃大，十一月有天晚上，我回家路过村边，在黑地里把它打死了。我家地上铺了四张狼皮。它们都踩呀了，不过毕竟是狼皮啊。还有我在高山上打到的野山羊的角和一只鹰，请阿维拉一个专门剥制禽鸟标本的人加了工，翅膀是展开的，黄黄的眼睛，就象活的一样。这只鹰挺好看，我看到这些东西心里非常髙兴，”“是啊，”罗伯特 乔丹说。
“我村教堂门上钉着一只熊掌，那熊是我春夭打的，我发现它在山坡上的雪地里，就用那只爪子在拔一段木头“
“那是什么时侯的事?”
“六年前了。那只熊掌象人手，不过爪子很长,已经干瘪了，穿过掌心钉在教堂门上,我每次见到，心里就乐。”“出于骄傲吗?”
“想到初春在那山坡上和那头熊遭遇确实感到骄傲。不过讲到杀人，象我们一模一样的人，回忆起来一点也不愉快。”“你不能把人的手掌钉在教堂门上，”罗伯特 乔丹说。“不能。这种伤天害理的事是不能想象的，不过,人手很象熊举。”
“人的胸部也很象熊的胸部，”罗伯特 乔丹说。“熊剥掉了皮，它的肌肉有很多和人的肌肉相象的地方。”
“是啊，”安塞尔莫说。“吉普赛人认为熊是人的兄弟。”“美洲的印第安人也有这种看法，”罗伯特 乔丹说。“他们杀了熊就向它道歉,请它原谅，他们把它的脑壳搁在树上,临走前请求它宽恕。
“吉普赛人认为熊是人的兄弟，是因为熊剥掉了皮，身体和人的是一祥的，因为熊也喝啤酒，也喜欢听音乐，也喜欢跳舞。”耗印第安人也有这种看法,“那。印第安人就是吉普赛人了?”
“不。不过他们对熊的看法是一致的。““一点也不假。吉普赛人认为它是人的兄弟，还因为它爱偷东西取乐。
“你有吉普赛血统吗?”
“没有。不过这种人我见得多了，认识得梃清楚。自从革命开始以来见得更多了。山里就有不少。他们认为杀掉外族人不算罪过。他们不承认这一点,不过这是事实“象靡尔人一样。“
“是的。不过吉普赛人有很多规矩，他们自己却不承认。在打仗时很多吉普赛人又变得象古时候那样坏了。”
“他们不懂为什么要打仗。他们不知道我们作战的目的。”“对呀，”安塞尔莫说，“他们只知道现在在打仗，大家又可以象古时候那样杀人而不一定受惩罚了。”
“你杀过人吗？”由于相处一天混熟了，现在天色又黑，罗伯特舟乔丹便这么问。
“杀过。有好几回。不过不是很乐意的。依我看，杀人是罪过。哪怕是杀那些我们非杀不可的法西斯，依我看，熊和人大不一样,我不相信吉普赛人那种蛊惑人心的说法,什么人跟畜生是兄弟。不。凡是杀人，我都反对“可是你杀过人了。”
“是呀。而且以后还要杀呢，不过，要是我能活得下去，我萝好好儿过活，不伤害任何人,这样就会被人宽恕了“被谁?”
“谁知道？既然在这里我们不再信天主，不再信圣子和圣灵了,谁来宽恕呀？我不知道。““你们不再信天主了？”
“是呀。老弟。当然是呀。要是有夭主,他决不会让我亲睱百睹的那一切发生的。让冬巧信天主吧。”“人们是需要天主的。。”
“我是在信教的环境中长大的，我当然想念天主。不过做人现在得由自己负黉了。
“那么宽恕你杀人罪过的人，就是你自己罗。”“我看就是这么回事，〃安塞尔莫说。“既然你打开天窗说亮话，我看一定就是这样。不过，不管有投有天主，我认为杀人就是罪过。我觉得寄人一命可不是儿戏。必要的时侯我才杀人，不过我不是巴勃罗那号人。”
“要打胜仗，我们躭必须杀敢人。这是历来的真理。“那当然。”我们打仗就得杀人。不过我有些古怪的念头。”安塞尔莫说。
他们这时正挨在一起摸黑走着，他低声说着，一边爬山，一边还常常回过头来。”“我连主教也不想杀。我也不想杀哪个财主老板。我要叫他们后半辈子象我们一样，天天在地里干活,象我们一样在山里砍树，他们这样才会明白，人生在世该干些啥。让他们睡我们睡的地方。让他们吃我们吃的东西。不过，顶要紧的是让他们干活。这样他们就会得到教训了。”“这样他们会活下来再奴役你。”
“把他们杀了并不给他们教训，”安塞尔莫说。“你没法把他们斩尽杀绝,因为他们会播下更深的仇恨的种子。监牢没用，监牢只会制造仇恨。应该让我们所有的敌人都得到教训。〃不过你还是杀过人。“
〃是的，”安塞尔莫说。“杀过好几次，以后还要杀，但不是乐意的，而且把它看作罪过。”
“那个哨兵呢？你刚才幵玩笑说要杀掉他。““那是开玩笑。我原可以杀掉他。是呀。考虑到我们的任务,当然要杀，而且问心无愧。不过心里是不乐意的，”
“我们就把这些哨兵留给喜欢杀人的人吧，”罗伯特 乔丹说。“他们是八个加五个。一共十三个，让喜欢杀人的人去对付
“喜欢杀人的人可不少呢，”安塞尔莫在黑暗中说。“我们就有很多这种人。这种人要比愿意上战场打仗的人多。“你参加过战役吗?”
“没有，”老头儿说。“革命开始的时候我们在塞哥维亚打过仗,不过我们吃了畋仗,溃敢啦。我跟了别人一起跑。我们并不真正了解自己在干啥，也不知道该每么干，再说,我只有一支猎枪和大号铅弹，可是民防军有毛瑟枪。我在一百码外用大号铅弹没法打中他们,他们在三百码外，却可以随心所欲地象打兔子似的打我们。他们打得又快又准，我们在他们面前象绵羊似的。他不作声了，接着问，“你看炸桥的时候会打上“仗吗”“有可能。”
“我毎逢打仗没有一次不逃跑的。”安塞尔莫说〃“我不知道自己该怎么做。我是老头子啦，可我一直闹不清。“
“我来帮衬你，”罗伯特 乔丹对他说 “那你打过很多仗吗？ 〃打过几次。“
“你觉得炸桥这件事怎么样”
我首先考虑的是炸桥。那是我的工作。把桥炸掉并不难。然后我们再作其它部署。做好准备工作。这一切都得写下来。”“这里的人识字的很少。”安塞尔莫说。
“要根据每个人的理解程度，写得大家都看得懂，而且还要把它讲清楚。“
“派给我什么任务,我准干，”安塞尔莫说。“不过，想起塞哥维亚开火的情形,假使要打，甚至于大打，最好先跟我讲明白，遇到各种情况，我得怎么干，免得逃跑。记得在塞哥维亚时我老是想逃跑。”
“我俩会在一起的，”罗伯特 乔丹对他说。“我会告诉你什么时侯该怎么办。”
“那就没问题了，”安塞尔莫说。“吩咐我做的，我都能傲到。”
“对我们来说就是炸桥和战斗，假如发生战斗的话，”罗伯特 乔丹说，他觉得在黑暗中说这番话有点象做戏,但是用西班牙话诶来很带劲。“
“那该是头等大事嗨，”安塞尔莫谗。罗伯特。乔丹听他说得直率、不含糊、不做作，既没有说英语民族的那种故意含蓄的谈吐,也役有说拉，“语民族的那种夸夸其谈的作风。他觉得能得到这个老头儿很幸运，他看过了这座桥，设想出了一个简化'的解决问理的方案。”只赛突然袭击哨所，就能按常规的办法炸掉它。他这时对戈尔兹的命令，对产生这些命令的必婆性起了反感。他所以反感，是因为这些命令会给他；会给这个老头儿带来木拥的后果。对于不得不执行这些命令的人来说，这自然是棘手的命令。
这个想法可不对头哪，他对自己说，你也好，别人也好，稀没法保证不道豳不拥。你和这个老头儿都不是什么了不起询又物。你们是完成你们的任务的工具。”有些命令非执行不可，这不是你们所造成的。有座桥非炸掉不可,这座挢可以成为人类未来命运的转折点，好象它能左右这次战争中所发生的一切-你只有一件事好做,并旦非做不可。只有一件事，妈的，他想。如果只此一件事，那就容易办了。他对自己说。”别发愁啦，你这个说空话的野杂种。想想别的事情吧。
于是他想起了那姑娘玛丽亚，想起了她的皮肤、头发和眼睹,全是一样的金褐色。头发的颜色比她的皮肤要深些,不过由于皮肤将被阳光晒得越来越黑，头发就会显得淡了。这光滑的皮肤表面上是浅金色的，从内部透出更深的底色。这皮肤一定很光滑，她的整个身体一定都很光滑。她的举止很别扭，仿佛她身上有些东西使她局伲不安，她觉得那些东西流鳟在外面，实在不然,只存在于她的心里。他望着她，她就脸红。她坐着，双手抱住膝头，衬衫领子敞开着，一对耸起的乳房顶着衬衫。想到她，他的喉头就哽住了,走路也不自在了。他和安塞尔莫都不作声,后来老头儿说，“我们现在穿过这些岩石下去就回营了。
他们捵黑走着山路，这时，有一个人向他们喝了一声，“站住，秘一个,他们听到往后拉枪栓的喀嚓一声,接着是推上子弹，枪栓朝下扳碰到木枪身的声音。
“同志，”安塞尔莫说。 “什么同志?”“巴勃罗的同志，”老头儿对他说。“你不认识我们吗。“认识。“那声音说。“可这是命令。你们有口令吗？“没有。我们是从山下来的。”
“我晓得。“那人在黑暗中说。“你们是从桥头来的。”我都晓得。命令可不是我下的。”你们必须对得上口令。”“那么上半句是什么?”罗伯特。乔丹问。”“我忘了，”那人在黑暗中说着笑了。”“那就带着你他妈的炸药到炉火边去吧。“
“这就叫做游击队的纪律，”安塞尔莫说。“把枪的击铁推上。”“没扳起击铁，”那人在黑暗中说。“我用大拇指和食指把它顶着。”
“如果你用毛瑟枪这样干,枪栓没有卡子会走火的。”“我这支就是毛瑟枪，”那人说。“可是我的大拇指和食指很管用。我老是这样顶着的。“
“你的枪口朝着哪里？”安塞尔莫对着黑暗问。“朝着你，”那人说，“我推上枪栓的时候一直对着你。你到了营地，关照他们派人来换我班，因为我饿得真他妈的没法说，我还忘了口令啦。”
“你叫什么名字?”罗伯特 乔丹问。
“奥古斯丁，”那人说。“我叫奥古斯丁，我在这儿厌倦死了。”
“我们一定带去口信，“穸伯特 乔丹说。他在想。”西班牙语中的“厌倦”这个词，说别种语言的农民是都不会用的。然而对于各个阶层的西班牙人这却是个最普通的字眼。”
“听我说，”奥古斯丁说着，走上前来把手按在罗伯特“乔丹的肩上。接着他用打火石打上了火,吹亮火绒，凑着火光端详着 这个年轻人的脸。
“你和另一个的样子很象，”他说。〃不过也有些不一样。听着，”他放下火绒，握枪站着。“告诉我这件事。”关于桥的事是真的吗?”
什么桥的事?”
“就是要我们把他妈的那座桥炸掉，过后我们就得操他妈的从山里撤出去。“
“我不知道。“
”不知道。”奥古斯丁说。“真是笑话！那么炸药是谁的？
“嶔的。
“那你不知道炸药是用来干什么的？别跟我撒谎啦。”“我知道做什么用，到时候你也会知道的”罗伯特 乔丹说。“我们现在可要到营地去了。”
“到你他妈的地方去吧“奥古斯丁说。“去你的吧，你可要我给你讲一件对你有用的事,
“要，”罗伯特’乔丹说。“只要不老是他妈的。“他指的是交谈中随时都能听到的那种粗话。奥古斯丁这个人，说的话那么脏,老是把“他妈的”这个词加在每个名词前当作形容词，还把它用作动词，罗伯特 乔丹不禁纳闷，他会不会说一句干净的话。奥古斯丁听到后,在黑暗中笑了。“这是我的口头禅，可能不好听。谁知道？说话嘛，谁都有自己的习惯。听我说。桥对我没什么了不起。桥也罢，别的东西也罢，我都不在乎。再说，我在山里厌倦啦。荽走我们就走吧。这山区对我没啥了不起，我们该撒走啦。不过有件事我得说说。好好保管你的炸药。“谢谢你，”罗伯特 乔丹说，“提防你吗？”“不,奥古斯丁说。“提防郑些他妈的不象我这样有种的人。”
“是吗。“罗伯特 乔丹问。
“你懂西班牙话，”奥古斯丁这时认真地说。“好好保管你那些他妈的炸药。”“谢谢你。”
〃不.不用谢我。看好你的货色吧。 炸药出毛病了吗?” 一
“不，出了毛病我就不会跟你费时间磨嘴皮了。”“我还是要谢谢你。我们现在到营地去吧。”“好，”奥古斯丁说，“叫他们派个知道口令的到这里来。”“我们会在营地和你见面吗?”“会，老兄。一会儿就见面。”“走吧，”罗伯特 乔丹对安塞尔莫说。他们沿着萆地边走去，这时升起了灰色的雾气。在树林里铺着松针的地上走了许久之后，现在踩着茂盛的青草感到怪美妙的，草上的露水湿透了他们的帆布绳底鞋。罗伯特 乔丹透过树林看到前面有一线光亮,他知道，那里一定就是山润口。
“奥古斯丁这个人挺不错，”安塞尔莫说。“他说话嘴巴不干净,老是开玩笑，不过，他人挺认真。”
“你和他很熟吗?” “是的。认识很久了。我挺相信他。”
“也相信他的话?”，“对，老弟。这个巴勃罗现在可变坏了,你看得出来。”“该怎么办才好呢?”“应该时刻有人看守着。”
“你。我。那女人和奥古斯丁。因为他看到了危险。”“你从前就知道这里的情况这祥糟吗?”。”“不。”安塞尔莫说。“不过箱得很快。然而到这里来是必要的。这是巴勃罗和 聋子’的地段。在他们的地段上，我们不得不踉他们打交道,除非我们有力量单干。”“那么'聋子，这个人呢?”
“很好。“安塞尔莫说，“好的程度就象另一个坏的程度一
样。“
“你现在认为他真是坏人了?”
“整个下午我都在想这事，既然我们听到了种种情况，我现在认为他确实坏了。真的坏。”
“我们是不是推说要炸另一座桥，现在就离开这里，到别的几帮那里去找人更好些?”
“不。”安塞尔莫说。“这里是他的地段。你的一举一动他不会不知道。可是我们办事要多加小心。”
收听单词发音 |
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gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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demolition
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| n.破坏,毁坏,毁坏之遗迹 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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bombers
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| n.轰炸机( bomber的名词复数 )；投弹手；安非他明胶囊；大麻叶香烟 | |
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conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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fascist
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| adj.法西斯主义的；法西斯党的；n.法西斯主义者，法西斯分子 | |
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tusks
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| n.（象等动物的）长牙( tusk的名词复数 )；獠牙；尖形物；尖头 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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embalmer
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| 尸体防腐者 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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fascists
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| n.法西斯主义的支持者( fascist的名词复数 ) | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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exterminate
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| v.扑灭，消灭，根绝 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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48
cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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comport
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| vi.相称，适合 | |
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dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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54
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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55
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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58
dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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60
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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63
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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filthily
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| adv.污秽地，丑恶地，不洁地 | |
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