Andr廥 had challenged at the government position. That is, he had lain down where the ground fell sharply away below the triple belt of wire and shouted up at the rock and earth parapet. There was no continual defensive line and he could easily have passed this position in the dark and made his way farther into the government territory before running into some one who would challenge him. But it seemed safer and simpler to get it over here.
 "_Salud!_" he had shouted. "_Salud, milicianos!_"
 He heard a bolt snick as it was pulled back. Then, from farther down the parapet, a rifle fired. There was a crashing crack and a downward stab of yellow in the dark. Andr廥 had flattened at the click, the top of his head hard against the ground.
 "Don't shoot, Comrades," Andr廥 shouted. "Don't shoot! I want to come in."
 "How many are you?" some one called from behind the parapet.
 "One. Me. Alone."
 "Who are you?"
 "Andr廥 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," Andr廥 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," Andr廥 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," Andr廥 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," Andr廥 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_," Andr廥 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."
 Andr廥 stood up and put the carbine above his head, holding it in both hands.
 "Now come through the wire. We have thee covered with the _m嫭uina_," the voice called.
 Andr廥 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," Andr廥 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," Andr廥 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 _m嫭uina_ on thee," another shouted.
 "_Qu?poco amables sois!_" Andr廥 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," Andr廥 said.
 "What's he say?"
 Andr廥 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, qu?buena alambrada_," Andr廥 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," Andr廥 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," Andr廥 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," Andr廥 said, relieved. He knew now he was up against the crazies; the ones with the black-and-red scarves. "_Viva la Libertad!_"
 "_Viva la F. A. I. Viva la C.N.T._," they shouted back at him from the parapet. "_Viva el anarco-sindicalismo_ and liberty."
 "_Viva nosotros_," Andr廥 shouted. "Long life to us."
 "He is a coreligionary of ours," the bomb man said. "And I might have killed him with this."
 He looked at the grenade in his hand and was deeply moved as Andr廥 climbed over the parapet. Putting his arms around him, the grenade sti............