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"
Nay
.
Not
yet
,
"
Primitivo
said
.
"
It
was
bad
luck
,
"
Pilar
said
.
"
If
we
had
had
two
more
it
need
not
have
happened
.
He
should
have
crawled
around
the
sawdust
pile
.
Is
he
all
right
there
where
he
is
?
"
Primitivo
shook
his
head
.
"
When
the
Inglés
blows
the
bridge
will
fragments
come
this
far
?
"
the
gypsy
asked
from
behind
his
tree
.
"
I
don
’
t
know
,
"
Pilar
said
.
"
But
Agustín
with
the
máquina
is
closer
than
thee
.
The
Inglés
would
not
have
placed
him
there
if
it
were
too
close
.
"
"
But
I
remember
with
the
blowing
of
the
train
the
lamp
of
the
engine
blew
by
over
my
head
and
pieces
of
steel
flew
by
like
swallows
.
"
"
Thou
hast
poetic
memories
,
"
Pilar
said
.
"
Like
swallows
.
Joder
!
They
were
like
wash
boilers
.
Listen
,
gypsy
,
thou
hast
comported
thyself
well
today
.
Now
do
not
let
thy
fear
catch
up
with
thee
.
"
"
Well
,
I
only
asked
if
it
would
blow
this
far
so
I
might
keep
well
behind
the
tree
trunk
,
"
the
gypsy
said
.
"
Keep
it
thus
,
"
Pilar
told
him
.
"
How
many
have
we
killed
?
"
