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The Bridge of The Gods
(Coi;tinzied fron, Page One I-Inndr’d and Ninety—nine)
“You can see they’ve failed to do the job, and more than once, at
that,” Rudde continued, pointing to the deserted remains. “Certainly
is a nasty place, this. But they’re swinging it this time. We can get
across most anything now, with the right stuff behind us.”
The stranger was looking at some grotesque, broken rocks which
lay as if they had been strewn across the rapids; enormous, jagged things.
(At this point in the tale I almost remembered something. Rudde went
on, however).
“Yes,” said the stranger slowly, “There have been many failures
at this task.” Then, as if in a burst of confidence, tt
We tried to do it
ourselves. Surely we might have done it, if anyone could. But— “ he
stopped, and looked again at the great bridge, and back at the rock
strewn rapids.
“They’ve used the new iron truss there, I see,” Rudde was intent
upon the bridge. “I’m telling you, modern engineering is making this
a great day for us builders.” He smiled at the stranger, hardly knowing
why.
The stranger said, “Yes, —
new
things are very wonderful.” They
both stared up, while the world dipped into shadow, for the sun had set.
When Rudde looked around again his companion had gone.
“Seems to me— where did you say it was?” I puzzled when Rudde
told me this. “I’ve seen something about it in a magazine article some
where; it’s been considered quite a stunt, I believe.”
“Very ticklish place,” Rudde confirmed.
“I remember now. There was a picture of the rapids. Wait a
shake— “ I stopped and gasped. “Why, it was called ‘The Bridge of
the Gods.’ There was a legend about it. The western Gods who came
before the Indians were supposed to have tried to build a bridge there
once, and— failed.”
Though Rudde, as I said before, is of a prosaic turn of mind, there
was an odd look in his eyes as he thought about the thing.
But of course, it may be all imagination; and to this day we have
never been quite sure about that Stranger.
—F.M.L.
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