"Thou art an old man who always talks too much."
"And would do whatever he said he would do," Anselmo said, bent under the pack.
"And who now is hungry.
And thirsty.
Go on, guerilla leader with the sad face.
Lead us to something to eat."
It is starting badly enough, Robert Jordan thought.
But Anselmo's a man.
They are wonderful when they are good, he thought.
There is no people like them when they are good and when they go bad there is no people that is worse.
Anselmo must have known what he was doing when he brought us here.
But I don't like it.
I don't like any of it.
The only good sign was that Pablo was carrying the pack and that he had given him the carbine.
Perhaps he is always like that, Robert Jordan thought.
Maybe he is just one of the gloomy ones.
No, he said to himself, don't fool yourself.
You do not know how he was before; but you do know that he is going bad fast and without hiding it.
When he starts to hide it he will have made a decision.
Remember that, he told himself.
The first friendly thing he does, he will have made a decision.
They are awfully good horses, though, he thought, beautiful horses.
I wonder what could make me feel the way those horses make Pablo feel.
The old man was right.
The horses made him rich and as soon as he was rich he wanted to enjoy life.
Pretty soon he'll feel bad because he can't join the Jockey Club, I guess, he thought.
Pauvre Pablo.
Il a manque son Jockey.
That idea made him feel better.
He grinned, looking at the two bent backs and the big packs ahead of him moving through the trees.
He had not made any jokes with himself all day and now that he had made one he felt much better.
You're getting to be as all the rest of them, he told himself.
You're getting gloomy, too.
He'd certainly been solemn and gloomy with Golz.
The job had overwhelmed him a little.
Slightly overwhelmed, he thought.
Plenty overwhelmed.
Golz was gay and he had wanted him to be gay too before he left, but he hadn't been.
All the best ones, when you thought it over, were gay.
It was much better to be gay and it was a sign of something too.
It was like having immortality while you were still alive.
That was a complicated one.
There were not many of them left though.
No, there were not many of the gay ones left.
There were very damned few of them left.
And if you keep on thinking like that, my boy, you won't be left either.
Turn off the thinking now, old timer, old comrade.
You're a bridge-blower now.
Not a thinker.
Man, I'm hungry, he thought.