The Slat Bridge

I snapped two more segments of the wooden carpenter's rule straight until three rigid feet of brass-hinged yellow timber stretched out in front of me. Ahead, the shale ditch dropped into a trough of soupy black leaf muck that would have swallowed my yellow boots whole. I laid the unfolded rule flat across the gap, jamming its brass-tipped ends into the seams of two flat stones like a miniature footbridge. Grabbing a dry briar root overhead to steady my balance, I edged out onto the timber. The wood groaned with a stiff, hollow creak under my weight, but the brass joints held fast, carrying me clean across the sludge to the dry gravel bank.