Primitivo raised the rifle.
“I understand,” he said. “It is very simple.”
“Send first the small rock as a warning and indicate the direction and the number. See that you are not seen.”
“Yes,” Primitivo said. “If I can throw a grenade?”
“Not until the máquina has spoken. It may be that cavalry will come searching for their comrade and still not try to enter. They may follow the tracks of Pablo. We do not want combat if it can be avoided. Above all that we should avoid it. Now get up there.”
“Me voy,” Primitivo said, and climbed up into the high rocks with his carbine.
“Thou, Agustín,” Robert Jordan said. “What do you know of the gun?”
Agustín squatted there, tall, black, stubbly-joweled, with his sunken eyes and thin mouth and his big work-worn hands.
“Pues, to load it. To aim it. To shoot it. Nothing more.”
“You must not fire until they are within fifty meters and only when you are sure they will be coming into the pass which leads to the cave,” Robert Jordan said.
“Yes. How far is that?”
“That rock.”
“If there is an officer shoot him first. Then move the gun onto the others. Move very slowly. It takes little movement. I will teach Fernando to tap it. Hold it tight so that it does not jump and sight carefully and do not fire more than six shots at a time if you can help it. For the fire of the gun jumps upward. But each time fire at one man and then move from him to another. At a man on a horse, shoot at his belly.”
“Yes.”
“One man should hold the tripod still so that the gun does not jump. Thus. He will load the gun for thee.”
“And where will you be?”
“I will be here on the left. Above, where I can see all and I will cover thy left with this small máquina. Here. If they should come it would be possible to make a massacre. But you must not fire until they are that close.”
“I believe that we could make a massacre. Menuda matanza!”
“But I hope they do not come.”
“If it were not for thy bridge we could make a massacre here and get out.”
“It would avail nothing. That would serve no purpose. The bridge is a part of a plan to win the war. This would be nothing. This would be an incident. A nothing.”
“Qué va, nothing. Every fascist dead is a fascist less.”
“Yes. But with this of the bridge we can take Segovia. The Capital of a Province. Think of that. It will be the first one we will take.”
“Thou believest in this seriously? That we can take Segovia?”
“Yes. It is possible with the bridge blown correctly.”
“I would like to have the massacre here and the bridge, too.”
“Thou hast much appetite,” Robert Jordan told him.
All this time he had been watching the crows. Now he saw one was watching something. The bird cawed and flew up. But the other crow still stayed in the tree. Robert Jordan looked up toward Primitivo’s place high in the rocks. He saw him watching out over the country below but he made no signal. Robert Jordan leaned forward and worked the lock on the automatic rifle, saw the round in the chamber and let the lock down. The crow was still there in the tree. The other circled wide over the snow and then settled again. In the sun and the warm wind the snow was falling from the laden branches of the pines.
“I have a massacre for thee for tomorrow morning,” Robert Jordan said. “It is necessary to exterminate the post at the sawmill.”
“I am ready,” Agustín said, “Estoy listo.”
“Also the post at the road mender’s hut below the bridge.”
“For the one or for the other,” Agustín said. “Or for both.”
“Not for both. They will be done at the same time,” Robert Jordan said.
“Then for either one,” Agustín said. “Now for a long time have I wished for action in this war. Pablo has rotted us here with inaction.”
Anselmo came up with the ax.
“Do you wish more branches?” he asked. “To me it seems well hidden.”
“Not branches,” Robert Jordan said. “Two small trees that we can plant here and there to make it look more natural. There are not enough trees here for it to be truly natural.”
“I will bring them.”
“Cut them well back, so the stumps cannot be seen.”
Robert Jordan heard the ax sounding in the woods behind him. He looked up at Primitivo above in the rocks and he looked down at the pines across the clearing. The one crow was still there. Then he heard the first high, throbbing murmur of a plane coming. He looked up and saw it high and tiny and silver in the sun, seeming hardly to move in the high sky.
“They cannot see us,” he said to Agustín. “But it is well to keep down. That is the second observation plane today.”
“And those of yesterday?” Agustín asked.
“They are like a bad dream now,” Robert Jordan said.
“They must be at Segovia. The bad dream waits there to become a reality.”
The plane was out of sight now over the mountains but the sound of its motors still persisted.
As Robert Jordan looked, he saw the crow fly up. He flew straight away through the trees without cawing.