What's the matter?" he turned to Pilar.
"Is this a meeting?
Haven't you any sentries out?"
"In this storm? _Que va_."
There were six men sitting at the table and leaning back against the wall.
Anselmo and Fernando were still shaking the snow from their jackets, beating their trousers and rapping their feet against the wall by the entrance.
"Let me take thy jacket," Maria said.
"Do not let the snow melt on it."
Robert Jordan slipped out of his jacket, beat the snow from his trousers, and untied his shoes.
"You will get everything wet here," Pilar said.
"It was thee who called me."
"Still there is no impediment to returning to the door for thy brushing."
"Excuse me," Robert Jordan said, standing in his bare feet on the dirt floor.
"Hunt me a pair of socks, Maria."
"The Lord and Master," Pilar said and poked a piece of wood into the fire.
"_Hay que aprovechar el tiempo_," Robert Jordan told her.
"You have to take advantage of what time there is."
"It is locked," Maria said.
"Here is the key," and he tossed it over.
"It does not fit this sack."
"It is the other sack.
They are on top and at the side."
The girl found the pair of socks, closed the sack, locked it and brought them over with the key.
"Sit down and put them on and rub thy feet well," she said.
Robert Jordan grinned at her.
"Thou canst not dry them with thy hair?" he said for Pilar to hear.
"What a swine," she said.
"First he is the Lord of the Manor. Now he is our ex-Lord Himself.
Hit him with a chunk of wood, Maria."
"Nay," Robert Jordan said to her.
"I am joking because I am happy."
"You are happy?"
"Yes," he said.
"I think everything goes very well."
"Roberto," Maria said.
"Go sit down and dry thy feet and let me bring thee something to drink to warm thee."
"You would think that man had never dampened foot before," Pilar said.
"Nor that a flake of snow had ever fallen."
Maria brought him a sheepskin and put it on the dirt floor of the cave.
"There," she said.
"Keep that under thee until thy shoes are dry."
The sheepskin was fresh dried and not tanned and as Robert Jordan rested his stocking feet on it he could feel it crackle like parchment.
The fire was smoking and Pilar called to Maria,
"Blow up the fire, worthless one.
This is no smokehouse."
"Blow it thyself," Maria said.
"I am searching for the bottle that El Sordo left."
"It is behind his packs," Pilar told her.
"Must you care for him as a sucking child?"
"No," Maria said.