Hacía un calor sofocante en la plaza cuando salimos después de almorzar, con nuestras maletas y la funda de la caña, para ir a Burguete.
La gente estaba subida en el techo del autobús y otros trepaban por una escalera. Bill subió y Robert se sentó al lado de Bill para guardarme un sitio, y yo volví a entrar en el hotel para buscar un par de botellas de vino que llevarnos.
Cuando salí, el autobús estaba abarrotado. Hombres y mujeres se sentaban sobre todo el equipaje y las cajas en el techo, y a todas las mujeres les abanicaban los abanicos bajo el sol. Desde luego que hacía calor. Robert bajó y yo encajé en el sitio que me había guardado en el único asiento de madera que atravesaba el techo.
Robert Cohn stood in the shade of the arcade waiting for us to start. A Basque with a big leather wine-bag in his lap lay across the top of the bus in front of our seat, leaning back against our legs. He offered the wineskin to Bill and to me, and when I tipped it up to drink he imitated the sound of a klaxon motor-horn so well and so suddenly that I spilled some of the wine, and everybody laughed. He apologized and made me take another drink. He made the klaxon again a little later, and it fooled me the second time. He was very good at it. The Basques liked it. The man next to Bill was talking to him in Spanish and Bill was not getting it, so he offered the man one of the bottles of wine. The man waved it away. He said it was too hot and he had drunk too much at lunch. When Bill offered the bottle the second time he took a long drink, and then the bottle went all over that part of the bus. Everyone took a drink very politely, and then they made us cork it up and put it away.