Me.
Alone."
"Who are you?"
"Andres Lopez of Villaconejos.
From the band of Pablo.
With a message."
"Have you your rifle and equipment?"
"Yes, man."
"We can take in none without rifle and equipment," the voice said.
"Nor in larger groups than three."
"I am alone," Andres shouted.
"It is important.
Let me come in."
He could hear them talking behind the parapet but not what they were saying.
Then the voice shouted again,
"How many are you?"
"One.
Me.
Alone.
For the love of God."
They were talking behind the parapet again.
Then the voice came,
"Listen, fascist."
"I am not a fascist," Andres shouted.
"I am a _guerrillero_ from the band of Pablo.
I come with a message for the General Staff."
"He's crazy," he heard some one say.
"Toss a bomb at him."
"Listen," Andres said.
"I am alone.
I am completely by myself.
I obscenity in the midst of the holy mysteries that I am alone.
Let me come in."
"He speaks like a Christian," he heard some one say and laugh.
Then some one else said,
"The best thing is to toss a bomb down on him."
"No," Andres shouted.
"That would be a great mistake.
This is important.
Let me come in."
It was for this reason that he had never enjoyed trips back and forth between the lines.
Sometimes it was better than others.
But it was never good.
"You are alone?" the voice called down again.
"_Me cago en la leche_," Andres shouted.
"How many times must I tell thee?
I AM ALONE."
"Then if you should be alone stand up and hold thy rifle over thy head."
Andres stood up and put the carbine above his head, holding it in both hands.
"Now come through the wire.