We have thee covered with the _maquina_," the voice called.
Andres was in the first zigzag belt of wire.
"I need my hands to get through the wire," he shouted.
"Keep them up," the voice commanded.
"I am held fast by the wire," Andres called.
"It would have been simpler to have thrown a bomb at him," a voice said.
"Let him sling his rifle," another voice said.
"He cannot come through there with his hands above his head.
Use a little reason."
"All these fascists are the same," the other voice said.
"They demand one condition after another."
"Listen," Andres shouted.
"I am no fascist but a _guerrillero_ from the band of Pablo.
We've killed more fascists than the typhus."
"I have never heard of the band of Pablo," the man who was evidently in command of the post said.
"Neither of Peter nor of Paul nor of any of the other saints nor apostles.
Nor of their bands.
Sling thy rifle over thy shoulder and use thy hands to come through the wire."
"Before we loose the _maquina_ on thee," another shouted.
"_Que poco amables sois!_" Andres said.
"You're not very amiable."
He was working his way through the wire.
"_Amables_," some one shouted at him.
"We are in a war, man."
"It begins to appear so," Andres said.
"What's he say?"
Andres heard a bolt click again.
"Nothing," he shouted.
"I say nothing.
Do not shoot until I get through this fornicating wire."
"Don't speak badly of our wire," some one shouted.
"Or we'll toss a bomb on you."
"_Quiero decir, que buena alambrada_," Andres shouted.
"What beautiful wire.
God in a latrine.
What lovely wire.
Soon I will be with thee, brothers."
"Throw a bomb at him," he heard the one voice say.
"I tell you that's the soundest way to deal with the whole thing."
"Brothers," Andres said.
He was wet through with sweat and he knew the bomb advocate was perfectly capable of tossing a grenade at any moment.
"I have no importance."
"I believe it," the bomb man said.
"You are right," Andres said.
He was working carefully through the third belt of wire and he was very close to the parapet.
"I have no importance of any kind.
But the affair is serious. _Muy, muy serio_."
"There is no more serious thing than liberty," the bomb man shouted.
"Thou thinkest there is anything more serious than liberty?" he asked challengingly.
"No, man," Andres said, relieved.