A stop for lunch and then a drive over the biggest bridge Carmen had ever seen - and then they were in Galveston.
"We.ve crossed this bridge before," she assured her.
I was downstream, on the other side of the bridge, watching Penny and by the time I noticed the crowd and got there, they were getting ready to haul Shipton out.
From what he could see from the roadway bridge the upper path was empty.
"Yeah. Well, I guess we can cross that bridge when we come to it," he answered curtly.
They were close to her condo; she drove the massive Sky Bridge every day to get to work.
Lana looked up at the bridge, trying to determine which way it was to shore.
With one last look at the river, she turned away and climbed the bank clumsily before heading towards the road leading from the bridge to her home.
However, she needed to get to the emerops facility in the town and then cross the bridge across the Mississippi.
"Water under the bridge," he answered.
By the time they got back to the house, the creek was substantially lower – enough so that the bridge was emerging.
Within two hours, the bridge was passable.
As Rob crossed the foot bridge across the creek, Alex and Gerald emerged from the barn and started for the house.
She was remembering the view of the creek from the bridge - and the brush choking its banks.
The vamp army I created is gathering at the bridge on the western edge of the city.
It read, 'Croft's Feed, Alder's Bridge, West Virginia!
Alder's Bridge was re-named Brockville, after the first soldier fatality of World War Two!
I guess you're both excited about finding Alder's Bridge actual exists.
"I guess that was Alder's Bridge's bridge," I said, breaking the silence.
I wanted it to be your Alder's Bridge too.
"My friend called the town Alder's Bridge," Betsy said.
We bid Mayor Wilkie good day, content Alder's Bridge as we continued to call it, was in good hands.
But Howie nagged me to start bridge building.
The 1862 bridge burned and was painstakingly replaced in 2001.
The next bridge was on Carlton Road and originally dated back to 1789.
To contain the, uh, coaching being done, the Original Beings are ordaining a new god to act as a sort of referee here on earth who will have the ability to bridge the physical and divine worlds.
After a switchback, they crossed the bridge over a deep gorge, the location of Ouray's now-melted ice climbing park where David Dean had almost lost his life the prior winter.
Deidre would trust him in time, and he didn't want to break the thin bridge of trust they'd established last night.
With that thought came the realization that she had crossed another bridge in their marriage.
He'd helped build the bridge between the two who were sworn together as mates after they barely learned each other's' names.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Wynn's voice carried a note of sorrow.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said in a husky tone.
The couple drove over the narrow wooden bridge that spanned Red Mountain Creek, and joined two other cars in the small parking area.
At this spot, a bridge spanning the Uncompahgre River bisected the two main climbing sections that extended almost a mile.
While the others moved cautiously to the bridge, enthralled by the scene in both directions, Edith refused to budge any further.
The view downstream and directly below the bridge was awesome.
At Ryland's urging they crossed the bridge past the area where the main activities of the ice festival were being assembled for the weekend.
The largest group was assembled below the bridge where some activity was taking place.
After the trail bent toward the cliff, Dean could see down the gorge, all the way to the roadway bridge where ghost-like spectators continued to mill about in the whirl of falling snow.
As he came out of the trees and crossed the bridge, he passed the sheriff 's car and emergency vehicles, their bubble gum lights still turning red or blue in the thickening snow.
As Dean and his stepfather neared the bridge, they looked up to see a uniformed City of Ouray police man pointing at him.
He hesitated, wondering if they had chosen a lower climbing spot, below the bridge that spanned the gorge.
Connor pinched the bridge of his nose.
Why burn that bridge when she might get desperate enough to cross it?
They found a place on the side of the bridge and stared down at the water as it roared over the spillway.
A car crossed the bridge behind them, leaving a wake of squeaking and groaning metal and wood.
Well, that bridge was burned to a crisp.
By the time the man had finished, his night vision was better and he could make out the tiny necklace of lights in the distance, the Chesapeake Bridge-Tunnel that ran 17 miles to the Eastern shore.
The bake lights came on briefly as he slowed down for the bridge and then the truck disappeared into a cloud of tawny dust.
In front of her stood a rusty old one lane bridge with ancient wooden slats.
Hesitantly she urged the car forward, catching her breath as the bridge creaked and groaned under the weight of the tiny car.
Only when she reached the other side of the bridge did she permit herself to breathe.
But soon the fore part of him slowly rose from the water; for an instant his whole marbleized body formed a high arch, like Virginia's Natural Bridge, and warningly waving his bannered flukes in the air, the grand god revealed himself, sounded, and went out of sight.
In reading this letter about Niagara one should remember that Miss Keller knows distance and shape, and that the size of Niagara is within her experience after she has explored it, crossed the bridge and gone down in the elevator.
If it is necessary, omit one bridge over the river, go round a little there, and throw one arch at least over the darker gulf of ignorance which surrounds us.
On the 29th of April, as I was fishing from the bank of the river near the Nine-Acre-Corner bridge, standing on the quaking grass and willow roots, where the muskrats lurk, I heard a singular rattling sound, somewhat like that of the sticks which boys play with their fingers, when, looking up, I observed a very slight and graceful hawk, like a nighthawk, alternately soaring like a ripple and tumbling a rod or two over and over, showing the under side of its wings, which gleamed like a satin ribbon in the sun, or like the pearly inside of a shell.
"One must admit," continued Prince Andrew, "that Napoleon as a man was great on the bridge of Arcola, and in the hospital at Jaffa where he gave his hand to the plague-stricken; but... but there are other acts which it is difficult to justify."
The wide expanse that opened out before the heights on which the Russian batteries stood guarding the bridge was at times veiled by a diaphanous curtain of slanting rain, and then, suddenly spread out in the sunlight, far-distant objects could be clearly seen glittering as though freshly varnished.
Down below, the little town could be seen with its white, red-roofed houses, its cathedral, and its bridge, on both sides of which streamed jostling masses of Russian troops.
"Yes, please do," answered the general, and he repeated the order that had already once been given in detail: "and tell the hussars that they are to cross last and to fire the bridge as I ordered; and the inflammable material on the bridge must be reinspected."
Two of the enemy's shots had already flown across the bridge, where there was a crush.
But the soldiers, crowded together shoulder to shoulder, their bayonets interlocking, moved over the bridge in a dense mass.
Looking down over the rails Prince Nesvitski saw the rapid, noisy little waves of the Enns, which rippling and eddying round the piles of the bridge chased each other along.
"If he" (he meant the enemy) "begins popping at the bridge now," said the old soldier dismally to a comrade, "you'll forget to scratch yourself."
Nesvitski like the rest of the men on the bridge did not take his eyes off the women till they had passed.
As often happens, the horses of a convoy wagon became restive at the end of the bridge, and the whole crowd had to wait.
Looking down at the waters of the Enns under the bridge, Nesvitski suddenly heard a sound new to him, of something swiftly approaching... something big, that splashed into the water.
"The squadwon can't pass," shouted Vaska Denisov, showing his white teeth fiercely and spurring his black thoroughbred Arab, which twitched its ears as the bayonets touched it, and snorted, spurting white foam from his bit, tramping the planks of the bridge with his hoofs, and apparently ready to jump over the railings had his rider let him.
The imposing figure of Nesvitski followed by his Cossack, and the determination of Denisov who flourished his sword and shouted frantically, had such an effect that they managed to squeeze through to the farther side of the bridge and stopped the infantry.
Beside the bridge Nesvitski found the colonel to whom he had to deliver the order, and having done this he rode back.
Then the clang of hoofs, as of several horses galloping, resounded on the planks of the bridge, and the squadron, officers in front and men four abreast, spread across the bridge and began to emerge on his side of it.
The infantry who had been stopped crowded near the bridge in the trampled mud and gazed with that particular feeling of ill-will, estrangement, and ridicule with which troops of different arms usually encounter one another at the clean, smart hussars who moved past them in regular order.
Only Denisov's squadron of hussars remained on the farther side of the bridge facing the enemy, who could be seen from the hill on the opposite bank but was not yet visible from the bridge, for the horizon as seen from the valley through which the river flowed was formed by the rising ground only half a mile away.
The squadron crossed the bridge and drew out of range of fire without having lost a single man.
The two Pavlograd squadrons, having crossed the bridge, retired up the hill one after the other.
I told you to fire the bridge, and now someone has gone and blundered; they are all beside themselves over there and one can't make anything out.
You said the bridge would be burned, but who would it burn, I could not know by the holy spirit!
"I will the bridge fire," he said in a solemn tone as if to announce that in spite of all the unpleasantness he had to endure he would still do the right thing.
Rostov did not think what this call for stretchers meant; he ran on, trying only to be ahead of the others; but just at the bridge, not looking at the ground, he came on some sticky, trodden mud, stumbled, and fell on his hands.
"At boss zides, Captain," he heard the voice of the colonel, who, having ridden ahead, had pulled up his horse near the bridge, with a triumphant, cheerful face.
Meanwhile Nesvitski, Zherkov, and the officer of the suite were standing together out of range of the shots, watching, now the small group of men with yellow shakos, dark-green jackets braided with cord, and blue riding breeches, who were swarming near the bridge, and then at what was approaching in the distance from the opposite side--the blue uniforms and groups with horses, easily recognizable as artillery.
Will they burn the bridge or not?
These were the questions each man of the troops on the high ground above the bridge involuntarily asked himself with a sinking heart--watching the bridge and the hussars in the bright evening light and the blue tunics advancing from the other side with their bayonets and guns.
Rostov, absorbed by his relations with Bogdanich, had paused on the bridge not knowing what to do.
There was no one to hew down (as he had always imagined battles to himself), nor could he help to fire the bridge because he had not brought any burning straw with him like the other soldiers.
He stood looking about him, when suddenly he heard a rattle on the bridge as if nuts were being spilt, and the hussar nearest to him fell against the rails with a groan.
"Inform the prince that I the bridge fired!" said the colonel triumphantly and gaily.
What of the bridge and its celebrated bridgehead and Prince Auersperg?
No, the bridge has not yet been taken and I hope it will not be, for it is mined and orders have been given to blow it up.
This affair of the Thabor Bridge, at Vienna....
Why, the French have crossed the bridge that Auersperg was defending, and the bridge was not blown up: so Murat is now rushing along the road to Brunn and will be here in a day or two.
But why did they not blow up the bridge, if it was mined?
(Observe that all three are Gascons.) 'Gentlemen,' says one of them, 'you know the Thabor Bridge is mined and doubly mined and that there are menacing fortifications at its head and an army of fifteen thousand men has been ordered to blow up the bridge and not let us cross?
But it will please our sovereign the Emperor Napoleon if we take this bridge, so let us three go and take it!' 'Yes, let's!' say the others.
And off they go and take the bridge, cross it, and now with their whole army are on this side of the Danube, marching on us, you, and your lines of communication.
These gentlemen ride onto the bridge alone and wave white handkerchiefs; they assure the officer on duty that they, the marshals, are on their way to negotiate with Prince Auersperg.
The officer sends for Auersperg; these gentlemen embrace the officers, crack jokes, sit on the cannon, and meanwhile a French battalion gets to the bridge unobserved, flings the bags of incendiary material into the water, and approaches the tÃªte-de-pont.
The French battalion rushes to the bridgehead, spikes the guns, and the bridge is taken!
But what is best of all," he went on, his excitement subsiding under the delightful interest of his own story, "is that the sergeant in charge of the cannon which was to give the signal to fire the mines and blow up the bridge, this sergeant, seeing that the French troops were running onto the bridge, was about to fire, but Lannes stayed his hand.
Come, you must own that this affair of the Thabor Bridge is delightful!
The spy reported that the French, after crossing the bridge at Vienna, were advancing in immense force upon Kutuzov's line of communication with the troops that were arriving from Russia.
If Kutuzov decided to retreat along the road from Krems to Olmutz, to unite with the troops arriving from Russia, he risked being forestalled on that road by the French who had crossed the Vienna bridge, and encumbered by his baggage and transport, having to accept battle on the march against an enemy three times as strong, who would hem him in from two sides.
The French, the spy reported, having crossed the Vienna bridge, were advancing by forced marches toward Znaim, which lay sixty-six miles off on the line of Kutuzov's retreat.
The success of the trick that had placed the Vienna bridge in the hands of the French without a fight led Murat to try to deceive Kutuzov in a similar way.
The Austrians let themselves be tricked at the crossing of the Vienna bridge, you are letting yourself be tricked by an aide-de-camp of the Emperor.