Mr. Fennis stopped to see what he was pointing at. Just a little way up the hill was a stone bridge over the stream bed. Mr. Fennis stared at it.
The bridge looked just like a picture out of a story book. It was a low, wide, stone arch crossing over the stream. Big, heavy stones made up the pillars on each end and the curved bottom of the bridge. Lots of smaller flat stones filled in the walls, and some bigger ones topped off the walls. There were trees and bushes going up to the bridge on either side. Under the arch, there was the glitter of sunlight on a pool on the other side. It was a very pretty sight, but Mr. Fennis couldn't think why anyone would build a bridge here, so far away from everything.
Baartock ran to the bridge and stood under it, and looked back at Mr. Fennis with a big grin. "Mine," he said again.
Mr. Fennis hurried to the bridge too. He had never seen a real stone bridge like this before. "Baartock," he said, "you shouldn't stand under there. It might not be safe."
"Not safe?" asked Baartock.
"One of those stones might fall down."
"Not fall down," said Baartock, not grinning any more. "I make. Good bridge. Trolls make good bridge. I show you good bridge."
He came out from under the bridge, and went scrambling up the side of the stream bed. Mr. Fennis looked for a better place to climb up, but finally climbed where Baartock had. When he got up to the end of the bridge, Baartock was in the middle. And he wasn't just standing there. He was jumping up and down.
"I make good bridge," he said again. "Not fall down.
"Yes. It's a good bridge," agreed Mr. Fennis. He stopped watching Baartock and examined the bridge. It did seem safe. It really did look like someone had just built it. The path on each side only went about ten feet into the woods and stopped. There didn't seem to be any reason for anyone to build a bridge in the middle of the woods. He didn't even consider what Baartock had said, that he had built it.