“We have come here,” he said, “to dedicate a cornerstone that was laid by the hand of the Almighty. On this towering wall of Rushmore in the heart of the Black Hills is to be inscribed a memorial that will represent some of the outstanding events in American history, and portraying the features of four of our Presidents. “The progress of America has been due to the spirit of the people. It is in no small degree due to that spirit that we have been able to produce such leaders. If coming generations are to maintain a like spirit, it will be because they continue to study the lives and times of the great men who have been leaders of this country, and continue to support the principles those men represented. It is for that purpose that we erect memorials. We cannot hold our admiration for the historic figures which we shall see here without growing stronger in our determination to perpetuate the institutions that their lives revealed and accomplished.” That, for the most part, was the dedication. And, singularly enough, it was very effective. The hot and weary witnesses who had made the march out of Keystone had suspected it would be, and they had no reason to complain. Calvin Coolidge, for once in his life, had been deeply moved. The little crowd stood quiet and motionless for a minute. Gutzon was called over to the President’s side. “Look,” said Coolidge abruptly, “who’s paying for all this?” “Well,” answered Gutzon, “the Rapid City Commercial Club has been taking care of preliminary expenses. And since the Mount Harney Memorial Association has been formed, some money has been raised in the Black Hills and the state generally. We’ve got donations from the Homestake Mine and the railroads and from people outside like Charles Rushmore, Herbert Myrick and Coleman Dupont. We are very grateful.” The President sniffed. “You’ll not go far on that,” he said. “The people of South Dakota can’t even pay the interest on their farm mortgages.” “They’ve had a dry year west of the Missouri River,” explained Gutzon. “We can hope for more water next year.” “Nonsense,” declared Coolidge. “They never get water out there. When I get back to Washington I want you to come to the White House. You know Secretary Mellon?” “Yes,” said Borglum. “All right,” pursued the President. “He and you and I will sit down and figure out what can be done to promote this work. I know great governments do things like this.” The President then handed the sculptor the drills and Gutzon climbed to the top of the mountain. The engines were turned on for the first time. The huddled, silent witnesses caught the sudden chatter of the drills. The carving of Mount Rushmore had begun. Gutzon came down and presented the first drill in use to President Coolidge. The next two went to Doane Robinson and Peter Norbeck, and he kept the fourth. Then everybody plodded back down the hill to Keystone.