At one stage, Will had suggested that Horace and Evanlyn should leave him behind to burn the bridge, while they rode to take the news to Araluen. But Horace had refused. “If we go now, we won’t know if you’ve succeeded or not, so what do we tell the King? There might be a bridge or there might not be?” he said, in another example of the solid common sense that had become part of his thinking. “And besides, destroying a bridge this size might be a little more than you can manage alone—even a famous Ranger like yourself.” He smiled as he said the last words, to let Will know he meant no insult. Will conceded the point. Secretly, he was glad they would be with him. He shared Horace’s doubt that he might not be able to handle the task alone. They slept fitfully until dawn, finally woken by the sounds of shouting and whips as the Wargals drove the miners back to their task of finishing the bridge. Throughout the day, they watched with alarm as the completed footway crept closer and closer to the side of the ravine where they lay hidden.
