"And thou shot for that?"
"No.
Below it.
Get thee back now."
"Thou," she said.
"I saw all."
"Thou saw nothing.
One man.
One man from a horse.
Vete. Get thee back."
"Say that you love me."
"No.
Not now."
"Not love me now?"
"_Dejamos_.
Get thee back.
One does not do that and love all at the same moment."
"I want to go to hold the legs of the gun and while it speaks love thee all in the same moment."
"Thou art crazy.
Get thee back now."
"I am crazy," she said.
"I love thee."
"Then get thee back."
"Good.
I go.
And if thou dost not love me, I love thee enough for both."
He looked at her and smiled through his thinking.
"When you hear firing," he said, "come with the horses.
Aid the Pilar with my sacks.
It is possible there will be nothing.
I hope so."
"I go," she said.
"Look what a horse Pablo rides."
The big gray was moving ahead up the trail.
"Yes.
But go."
"I go."
Her fist, clenched tight in his pocket, beat hard against his thigh.
He looked at her and saw there were tears in her eyes.
She pulled her fist out of his pocket and put both arms tight around his neck and kissed him.
"I go," she said. "_Me voy_.
I go."
He looked back and saw her standing there, the first morning sunlight on her brown face and the cropped, tawny, burned-gold hair.
She lifted her fist at him and turned and walked back down the trail, her head down.
Primitivo turned around and looked after her.
"If she did not have her hair cut so short she would be a pretty girl," he said.
"Yes," Robert Jordan said. He was thinking of something else.
"How is she in the bed?" Primitivo asked.
"What?"
"In the bed."