What those things might be, Pran did not intrude upon by questioning. Instead, he nodded, and they continued on for some time in silence.
It wasn’t long before they began crossing small stone bridges of remarkable workmanship. Doc and especially Ralph wanted to stop and marvel at some of these, but Pran seemed pressed for time. Besides, he assured them, there were a good many more along the way, passing over the innumerable shallow creeks in this area, and he assured them that they would gradually increase in size and number and quality of workmanship as they drew nearer to civilization, and the river Mirrow.
The trail soon became a road with obvious wheel ruts and hoof prints, and was spotted often with manure. Grass and flowers grew thick at the center and along the sides of the road because of the natural fertilizer deposited there by horses and other livestock.
As they passed the occasional dwelling, people would wave to them and stare curiously at Doc and Ralph, leaning on a hoe or rake while standing out in a field, or leaning out a window. Pran was hailed often, responding to every caller by name.
‘Not to seem nosy or anything,’ Doc asked suddenly, ‘but what is your relationship with the other families living on your property? Do they work for you, or are they part owners? I only ask because where Ralph and I come from, things are done quite differently. Everyone either owns their own property, or else rents houses or space in buildings.’