He heard the brook gurgling along over the stones, and that was all at first; but presently he began to hear the strokes of an axe. He called out as loud as he could,
But Jonas did not hear.
Then he walked along the edge of the woods till he came nearer the place where he heard the axe. He found here a little opening among the trees and bushes, so that he could look in. He saw the brook, and over beyond it, on the opposite bank, was Jonas, cutting down a small tree.
So Rollo walked on until he came to the brook, and then asked Jonas how he should get over. The brook was pretty wide and deep.
Jonas said, if he would wait a few minutes, he would build him a bridge.
“You cannot build a bridge,” said Rollo.
“Wait a little and see.”
So Rollo sat down on a mossy bank, and Jonas, having cut down the small tree, began to work on a larger one that stood near the bank.
After he had cut a little while, Rollo asked him why he did not begin the bridge.
“I am beginning it,” said he.
Rollo laughed at this, but in a minute Jonas called to him to stand back, away from the bank; and then, after a few strokes more, the top of the tree began to bend slowly over, and then it fell faster and faster, until it came down with a great crash, directly across the brook.
“There!” said Jonas, “there is your bridge.”
Rollo looked at it with astonishment and pleasure.
“Now,” said Jonas, “I will come and help you over.”
“No,” said Rollo, “I can come over myself. I can take hold of the branches for a railing.”
So Rollo began to climb along the stem of the tree, holding on carefully by the branches. When he reached the middle of the stream, he stopped to look down into the water.
“This is a capital bridge of yours, Jonas,” said he. “How beautiful the water looks down here! O, I see a little fish! He is swimming along by a great rock. Now he is standing perfectly still. O, Jonas, come and see him.”
“No,” said Jonas, “I must mind my work.”
After a little time, Rollo went carefully on over the bridge, and sat down on the bank of the brook. But he did not have with him the parcel his mother gave him. He had left it on the other side.
After he had watched the fishes, and thrown pebble-stones into the brook some time, he began to be tired, and he asked Jonas what he had better do.
“I think you had better build a wigwam.”
“A wigwam? What is a wigwam?” said Rollo.
“It is a little house made of bushes such as the Indians live in.”
“O, I could not make a house,” said Rollo.
“I think you could if I should tell you how, and help you a little.”
“But you say you must mind your work.”
“Yes,—I can mind my work and tell you at the same time.”