"You will be fighting them soon enough.
Here comes the woman."
Pilar was climbing up to them, making heavy going of it in the boulders.
Primitivo kept saying.
"Obscenity them.
Oh, God and the Virgin, befoul them," each time for firing rolled down the wind, and Robert Jordan climbed down to help Pilar up.
"_Que tal_, woman," he said, taking hold of both her wrists and hoisting as she climbed heavily over the last boulder.
"Thy binoculars," she said and lifted their strap over her head.
"So it has come to Sordo?"
"Yes."
"_Pobre_," she said in commiseration.
"Poor Sordo."
She was breathing heavily from the climb and she took hold of Robert Jordan's hand and gripped it tight in hers as she looked out over the country.
"How does the combat seem?"
"Bad.
Very bad."
"He's _jodido?_"
"I believe so."
"_Pobre_," she said.
"Doubtless because of the horses?"
"Probably."
"_Pobre_," Pilar said.
Then, "Rafael recounted me all of an entire novel of dung about cavalry.
What came?"
"A patrol and part of a squadron."
"Up to what point?"
Robert Jordan pointed out where the patrol had stopped and showed her where the gun was hidden.
From where they stood they could just see one of Agustin's boots protruding from the rear of the blind.
"The gypsy said they rode to where the gun muzzle pressed against the chest of the horse of the leader," Pilar said.
"What a race!
Thy glasses were in the cave."
"Have you packed?"
"All that can be taken.
Is there news of Pablo?"
"He was forty minutes ahead of the cavalry.
They took his trail."
Pilar grinned at him.
She still held his hand.
Now she dropped it.
"They'll never see him," she said.
"Now for Sordo.
Can we do anything?"
"Nothing."
"_Pobre_," she said.
"I was fond of Sordo.
Thou art sure, _sure_ that he is _jodido?_"
"Yes. I have seen much cavalry."
"More than were here?"
"Another full troop on their way up there."
"Listen to it," Pilar said. "_Pobre, pobre Sordo_."