It was near dark when I approached the bridge. I had left the road a mile back as to be downwind and in the cover of the brush. Two days before I had wadded the river South of the bridge on my way to Jakes farm. Jake has some of the sweetest tomatoes and the crispiest red apples of anyone in the valley. Today, because of the heavy rain and the river being up, I would have to use the bridge. Couldn’t let the grub get wet. If I timed it right I would not have to pay the troll.