It was full moonlight by the time the last stone was heaved into place, and the great bridge loomed like an elephant wading in a brook. The workmen picked up their trowels and troughs, and plunged wearily along the road toward home. The master mason stopped for a last look. “Let any magic throw that down!” he cried defiantly, and shook his fist. Then he trudged after the workmen down the road.
There was a creaking of branches beside the river, and a figure, dirk in hand, crawled to the bridge, paused, looked about, then settled itself, leaning back against the bulky stonework. The figure was lost in the shadow of the bank, but every now and again it raised its head into the clear moonlight. It was Jack!
All the time the bridges had been breaking and the king had been fuming and the master mason had been protesting, Jack had been thinking. For Jack had a couple of eyes in his head, and he saw how small and weak the river was, compared to the bridges. So he thought to himself that it would be no wonder after all if the master mason were right, and it was not the river that kicked the bridges down, but some magic or other. Anyway it would do no harm to watch for a night and see what might happen.
So Jack sat there with the moon shining into his eyes, and not a sound anywhere to keep him company but the palace clock now and then counting off the hours into the quiet. But Jack did not mind, for the moonlight had a kind of friendly feeling in it; and in spite of being alone it was more drowsy he felt than frightened.
He might in fact have gone to sleep entirely if all of a sudden there hadn’t come a strange, low gurgle, as if beyond the hills all the rivers were brimming, brimming, brimming. Then it rose with a rush as if they had burst over the hills and were racing, dashing, flooding down to Jack.
The moon went out as if a great black blot had fallen across the sky, and Jack sprang up, all a-tremble, to see if he could make out what was going on. Something swept by him in the dark, showering him with drops like a moist whirlwind. There was a shaking and a shock, and the bridge which had stood so solid and so firm, crumbled with a crash, stone after stone, into the water.
The moon flashed out again into Jack’s eyes, and black beside it against the sky towered a tremendous giant figure. For a moment Jack caught his breath; then suddenly he understood: It was the giant who had made the darkness by stepping in front of the moon; it was the giant who had rushed splashing by him up the river; it was without a doubt the giant who had pulled his father’s bridges down! And there Jack stood in the moonlight at the foot of the giant, gazing up at the top of him, never daring to say a word.
The giant kicked the building stones with his toe, like so many pebbles. Jack got up his courage.
“Oh, giant,” he shouted, “giant!” But not a syllable more could he get out.
The giant stopped his kicking and scanned the ground with his great eyes. Finally he spied Jack.