"Bless my life," said the old woman, looking us up and down, "Mister Ward has a fine chance of scalawags."
We laughed and the old woman's face wrinkled into smiles. Then she turned to me. "Which way did you come, Quiller?" she asked.
"Over the bridge," said I. Now there was no other way to come, and the old carpet-weaver turned the counter with shrewd good-nature.
"Maybe you know how the bridge got there," she said.
"I've heard that the Dwarfs built it," said I, "but I reckon it's talk."
"Well, it ain't talk," said the old woman. "A long time ago, folks lived on the other side of the river, and the Dwarfs lived on this side, an' the folks tried to git acrost, but they could n't, an' they talked to the Dwarfs over the river, an' asked them to build a bridge, an' the Dwarfs said they could n't build it unless the river devils was bought off. Then the folks asked how to buy off them river devils, an' the Dwarfs said to throw in a thimble full of human
