By the time the son asked the question, the stones would have been bleached whiter than when they were carried dripping from the Jordan’s path. Each would have become a fixture in its place, stumbled upon at night. Perhaps the boy who asked the question would have mounted the stone in a child’s victory and proclaimed himself king over the place a year or two before it came to him to ask the awaited question.
The father must have grinned when it came: ‘What are these stones?’
Canter Bridge 