That little girl was about half as big as Pee-wee. She had on a big sunbonnet and a kind of a gingham apron and she came hiking along behind the cow with that great big whip over her shoulder. She looked awful little. “Do you think I want to be rescued by her?” the kid shouted. “I’d let a mosquito rescue me, I’m so hungry,” I said. Pretty soon the little girl and the cow were right at the end of the road where the end of the bridge belonged. The cow didn’t seem surprised but the little girl did. The cow just started to eat grass as if she didn’t care whether she got across or not. “Road closed on account of a desert island,” Bert called. “You have to take a detour around through the Panama Canal,” Garry shouted. “Don’t be frightened, we won’t hurt you.” I said, “Hey, little girl, would you be kind enough to go to the nearest house and tell the people that some boy scouts are starving on this bridge on account of it being open?” “Why don’t you close it,” she asked us kind of just a little bit scared and surprised. “Because it doesn’t work,” I said. “See, we’ll show you. It’s on a strike.” So then we all started pushing the big lever and she began to laugh. “Do you think it’s a joke?” Pee-wee shouted at her. “You’rrre dunces,” she said, rolling her r’s awful funny. “Do you think you can push it arraound like a trreadmill churrrn?” “I don’t know what a treadmill churn is,” I told her, “because I’ve never been marooned on one——” “Don’t you even know how to make butterrr?” she said. “We know how to eat it,” I said, “and that’s enough.” “You’rrre trying to turrrn it raound,” she called. “It daon’t go all the way raound, it goes _back_. Lift that plug in the floorrr and put the leverrr in therrre and then push; it’ll go back the same way. It only goes half-way and back—Mr. Smarrrty.” “_G-o-o-d night!_” I said. “I thought it was a merry-go-round.” “Did you think you werrre ter th’ caounty fairrr?” she asked us. She just stood there staring at us as if she thought we were escaped lunatics from Luna Park. I said, “Pardon us, but we never studied drawing so we don’t know anything about drawbridges. Do you mean this thing in the floor that looks like the head of a bolt?” “Right therrre at yourrr feet,” she said. On the floor about three feet from the lever was a kind of a round iron plate that looked like the top of a big bolt. It was just a kind of a plug and it lifted out. All we had to do was to haul the lever out and put it in there and push. There was a kind of reverse gear that made the bridge go back. And all the while we had been pushing and pushing and trying to make that pesky old bridge keep going around like a merry-go-round. But that wasn’t the way it worked. The end of it that belonged at the north had to go back to the north; the bridge only went half-way around.