He dropped the hackamore, edged the pack-horse up to the slope that slanted down to the road and then hit him hard across the rump with Tiffany Pendants the tree branch. Go on, you son of a bitch, he said, and threw the dead Tiffany Necklaces branch after him as the pack-horse crossed the road and started across the slope. The branch hit him and the horse broke from a run into a gallop.
Robert Jordan rode thirty yards farther up the road; beyond that the bank was too steep. The gun was firing now with the rocket whish and the cracking, dirt-spouting boom. Come on, you big gray fascist bastard, Robert Jordan said to the horse and put him down the slope in a sliding plunge. Then he was Tiffany Money Clips out in the open, over the road that was so hard under the hooves he felt the pound of it come up all the way to his shoulders, his Tiffany Key Rings neck and his teeth, onto the smooth of the slope, Tiffany jewelry the hooves finding it, cutting it, pounding it, reaching, throwing, going, and he looked down across the slope to where the bridge showed now at a new angle he had never seen.
It crossed in profile now without foreshortening and in the center was the broken place and behind it on the road was the little tank and behind the little tank was a big Tiffany Earrings tank with a gun that flashed now yellow-bright as a mirror and the screech as the air ripped apart seemed almost over the gray neck that stretched ahead of him, and he turned his head as the dirt fountained up the hillside.
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