The grass grew luxuriantly around this stone, and the sheep
loved to rest at noon in its shadow. Many men had tried to lift, or
pry it up, but in vain. The tradition, unaltered and unbroken for
centuries, was to the effect, that none but a very good man could ever
budge this stone. Any and all unworthy men might dig, or pull, or pry,
until doomsday, but in vain. Till the right one came, the treasure was
as safe as if in heaven.
But the boy's father and mother were now very poor and his sisters now
grown up wanted pretty clothes so badly, that the lad hoped that he or
his father might be the deserving one. He would help him to win the
treasure for he felt sure that his parent would share his gains with
all his friends.
Though his neighbors were not told of the generous intentions credited
to the boy's father, by his loving son, they all came with horses,
ropes, crowbars, and tackle, to help in the enterprise. Yet after many
a long days' toil, between the sun's rising and setting, their end was
failure. Every day, when darkness came on, the stone lay there still,
as hard and fast as ever. So they gave up the task.
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