"Where bridge?" Baartock asked excitedly. He had decided there just weren't any bridges near-by.
"There's one right her in the middle of town. It's a little ways past the clinic, on Main Street. It's not too far. Would you like to look at it?"
"Yes." Then he remembered. "Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome, Baartock."
They drove along Main Street, and he recognized the little house where they had been that morning and pointed to it.
"Yes," said Mrs. Jackson, "that's the clinic. We're almost to the bridge now."
After a few more blocks, she turned a corner onto a side street and stopped the car. "Well, we're here."
"Where bridge?" Baartock asked as he looked all around.
"It's right over there," she said pointing. "Let's get out so you can look at it."
They got out of the car and walked across at the corner. Then Baartock saw the bridge. It was a simple span going over a wide stream bed, but there wasn't very much water in the stream bed below. And the bridge was built of concrete, just like the culvert he'd
hidden in on his first day. Part of the town was on one side of the bridge, and there was more of the town on the other side. The road crossed the bridge for cars and trucks, and busses. And there was a sidewalk on the bridge for people to go across. He didn't know just what to say. He was happy because there was a bridge, but it was a human-made bridge and nothing like as good as a troll-built bridge. He looked at it carefully. After a while, he said, "Go home now." He'd found a bridge.