At first he had to battle with the deceitful river; but he and his men watched the skies and did their best to prevent disaster, though more than one occurred.
But the resolution of their master seemed infused into the men. If there was any doubt or hazard, he took the tools himself, and wrought until they were ashamed to hang back.
Though he had a farm of his own but two miles or so away, and his brother's farm was close at hand, he occupied one of the new cottages along with Llwyd, and so was always on the spot.
Besides that, he fared almost as his men fared. If a labourer's wife or child fell sick he helped them from his own stores or pocket; and his men worked all the better for his thoughtful kindness.
His bridge-building had brought quite a colony upon the spot, not merely of the workpeople, but of others, who found they had money to spend and wants to be supplied.
Soon he become conscious of another want. The Rev. John Smith, the kind old vicar, had died full of years shortly after Jonet's marriage, and the new vicar did not seem to recognise the strangers as part of his flock. So William, finding the non-observance of the Sabbath led to disorder, called the people round him, and from the Druids' rocking-stone read out portions of Scripture to them, now and then venturing on expositions of his own.
So the weeks and the seasons rounded until at the end of two years there stood a fine three-arched bridge across the river, to be opened with loud acclaim and rejoicing—a bridge the excited guarantors pronounced firm and solid enough to stand as surely for seventy years as seven, the period for which its stability was guaranteed.
'Indeed!' exclaimed the proud young builder. 'It is more likely to stand firm for seven hundred years!'
FOOTNOTE:
[15] Psalm xcv. 7, 8.