They would have to ford these at times with considerable risk; while at other times they found bridges. But terrible bridges they were. It really makes me shudder a little to think of them, although I am not much given to shuddering as a general rule. The best of them were suspension bridges, and the method adopted in their construction was simplicity itself. Three or four chains were swung across the stream and tied to the tree trunks, and on these pieces of wood were fastened with withes, and lo! the bridge was complete, but fearfully unsafe. They were very high above the water to prevent their being washed away during floods, and as they were stretched over the narrowest gulleys, the water beneath rushed onward with such rapidity, that the strongest swimmer that ever lived would not have had the ghost of a chance for his life had he fallen off the bridge.
Imagine if you can horses having to cross such a bridge. But they often had to.
Tom had one adventure on a bridge that he is never likely to forget. He was all alone too; that is, no human being was within reach. About four miles down a stream he had found a ford in the morning, but on returning about an hour before sunset he came to this fearful bridge and determined to cross over. He tied his horse up first, then ventured on himself, and went backwards and forwards several times to test its strength. The bridge was not more than four feet wide, but felt firm enough, and it was all right with Tom so long as he did not let his eyes fall in the direction of the roaring, tumbling torrent far down beneath. If he did so for a moment he felt as if the whole structure were gliding from under him.
But now for the horse. It was not difficult to get the wise creature on, though he walked with excessive care and caution, feeling his way as it were step by step, with his eyes fixed steadfastly on the bank beyond.
Tom walked on before holding the bridle. The bridge bent as they neared the centre till it assumed almost the shape of a hammock, and Tom began to think it must break. He kept up his heart, however, and with gentle, encouraging words urged his beast to follow.
They had reached the middle when, without the slightest warning, a squall came suddenly roaring down the gulley, and the bridge began to sway and swing and creak and crack. Never in his lifetime before had Tom experienced such a feeling of awful danger. The horse stood still now, shaking with dread, and emitting a low, frightened kind of a whinny, while the sweat poured over his hoofs.
Tom crouched lower and lower to save himself from falling, but he still kept hold of the bridle; for even in the extremity of his own danger, he did not forget that the touch from man’s hand gives confidence to the brute, even when seemingly paralysed with terror.
The squall luckily did not last many minutes. Then it fell calm again, and in a very short time he and his faithful horse were safely across. But even then he dared scarcely look back and down into that frightful chasm that seemed to have been yawning hungrily for his life.
CHAPTER IX.
“THE WHOLE SEA OF MIST TURNED TO CLOUDS OF MINGLED GOLD AND CRIMSON.”
THE crossing of streams, either by swinging bridges or through fords in which the water roared and rushed with the rapidity of a mill-stream, constituted a source of ever-recurring danger. The bridges at times were of even simpler construction than that already described, especially if the stream or chasm were narrow, for then two trees, or perhaps but one, would have to do duty as a support for the cross-pieces of wood; and as these latter were often so rotten that they snapped in two with the weight of a man, it may easily be perceived that the comfort and feeling of security while on them were but slight.