"I guess the village isn't much bigger than you are."

The road took them southward through the valley. They were not far
west of the highway but the low country and the thick woods obscured
it from view. They could hear the tooting of auto horns over that way
and sometimes human voices sounding strange across the intervening
solitude.

"I don't see why they didn't set the village down over at the
highway; it's not more than a mile or so," Charlie said. "Maybe they
were afraid the autos would run over it; safety first, hey? Nobody'll
run over it here, that's one sure thing."

Pee-Wee took the last bite of a hot frankfurter he had bought at a
roadside shack on the highway and was now more free to talk.

"Listen," he said, "what's that?"

It was a distant rattling sound which began suddenly and ended
suddenly. They both listened.

"There must be a bridge up there along the highway," Charlie said,
"that's the sound of cars going over it. Loose planking, hey?"

Pee-Wee listened to the rattling of the loose planks as another
car sped over the unseen structure, little dreaming of the part that
bridge was destined to play in his young life. The commonplace noise
of the neglected flooring seemed emphasized by the quiet of the
woodland. That reminder of human traffic, so near and yet so far and
out of tune with all the gentler sounds of the valley, presented a