In the morning they came to the river, and it was exactly as bad as promised: wide, deep, fast, and spanned only by a single log, one round pole laid across the torrent, wet and turning, a bridge no living person could walk.
, who could cross anything, ran across the log easily to show it could be done — danced across it, in fact, showing off a little, because he is still himself — but looked at the slick turning pole above the killing water and could not, would not, and no amount of the monkey's coaxing would get the master's mortal feet onto it. refused outright. The log was not the way across for a body.
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