This side now and we're done.
This will drop it like what all.
Come on.
Don't get excited.
Do it.
Clean and fast as the last one.
Don't fumble with it.
Take your time.
Don't try to do it faster than you can.
You can't lose now.
Nobody can keep you from blowing one side now.
You're doing it just the way you should.
This is a cool place.
Christ, it feels cool as a wine cellar and there's no crap.
Usually working under a stone bridge it's full of crap.
This is a dream bridge.
A bloody dream bridge.
It's the old man on top who's in a bad spot.
Don't try to do it faster than you can. I wish that shooting would be over up above.
"Give me some wedges, _viejo_."
I don't like that shooting still.
Pilar has got in trouble there.
Some of the post must have been out.
Out back; or behind the mill.
They're still shooting.
That means there's somebody still at the mill.
And all that damned sawdust.
Those big piles of sawdust.
Sawdust, when it's old and packed, is good stuff to fight behind.
There must be several of them still.
It's quiet below with Pablo.
I wonder what that second flare-up was.
It must have been a car or a motorcyclist.
I hope to God they don't have any armored cars come up or any tanks.
Go on.
Put it in just as fast as you can and wedge it tight and lash it fast.
You're shaking, like a Goddamn woman.
What the hell is the matter with you? You're trying to do it too fast. I'll bet that Goddamn woman up above isn't shaking.
That Pilar.
Maybe she is too.
She sounds as though she were in plenty trouble.
She'll shake if she gets in enough.
Like everybody bloody else.
He leaned out and up into the sunlight and as he reached his hand up to take what Anselmo handed him, his head now above the noise of the falling water, the firing increased sharply up the road and then the noise of grenades again.
Then more grenades.
"They rushed the sawmill then."
It's lucky I've got this stuff in blocks, he thought.
Instead of sticks.
What the hell.
It's just neater.