'I presume our ways part here,' observed the tall stranger. 'Good-bye. Do not forget what I have told you. Brave boys who fear God, and do their duty to their fellows, do not dread the aspect of a few grey old stones.'
'I'm not afraid of stones, sir. I've got a heap, and I build with them. But Rhys kicks them over and says I waste my time.'
'So you build with stones, do you? And, pray, what do you build?' asked the gentleman, with a comical smile, unseen in the twilight. 'Do you think you could build a bridge over this treacherous river? You would do good service if you could,' he added, sotto voce.
William felt abashed. He had an uncomfortable suspicion he was being laughed at.
'I am only a boy, sir. I can only try to build. But when I am a man, Rhys shall see!'
'And who is Rhys?' put the other, resuming his walk when he found the boy did not turn towards the cottage by the ford.
'Rhys is my big brother. But, if you please, sir, what do be a bridge?'
Without evincing any surprise at the ignorance of a boy of his class and age, who could not have travelled far from home, the other answered promptly, 'A bridge is a roadway built over a river so that people may walk or ride across without wetting their feet. Bridges are sometimes built of wood, sometimes of stone or brick. A bridge is sadly wanted hereabouts, my boy. I narrowly escaped being swept away at the ford this morning.'
William drew in his breath. 'Oh-h-h! Would a bridge have saved my father from being drowned?'
'It would preserve any one who had occasion to cross.'