Fear not, Ernest. The
man will come."
The years went on, and Ernest ceased to be a boy. He had grown to be a
young man now. He was not much noticed in the valley, for he was still
quiet and modest. They saw nothing remarkable about his way of living,
save that when the work of the day was done he loved to go apart and
gaze upon the Great Stone Face.
They knew not that it had become his greatest teacher, filling his heart
and mind with thoughts and hopes far above earthly things.
By this time poor old Mr. Gathergold was dead and buried, and the
strange part about the matter was that when his wealth left him, as it
did some time before he died, and he became a poor old man, the people
seemed to forget that there ever had been a resemblance to the Great
Stone Face. Indeed, they said it was all a mistake, and the great man
was yet to come.
Suddenly through the valley there ran another rumor. Years before a
young man had left the valley, had gone into the world as a warrior, and
finally had become a great commander. Such had been his character and
life that the illustrious man was called by the name of Old
Blood-and-Thunder.
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