An old man traveling a lone highway came in the evening cold and gray, to a chasm vast and deep and wide, through which was flowing a swollen tide. The old man crossed in the twilight dim, the swollen stream held no fears for him. But he turned when safe on the other side and built a bridge to span the tide. "Oh, man," cried a fellow pilgrim near, "you're wasting your strength with building here. Your journey will end with the ending of day. You never again must pass this way. You have crossed the chasm deep and wide. Why build you the bridge at eventide?" The builder lifted his old gray head. "Good friend, in the path that I have come," he said, "there followeth after me today a youth whose feet must also pass this way. This chasm which has been as nought for me to that fair-haired youth might a pitfall be. He too must cross in the twilight dim. Good friend, I am building this bridge for him!"