So the child pointed the way. All day long Offero climbed. The stones were so big and sharp that they cut even his huge, hardy feet; and it was sunset before he came to the hut on the mountain top.
The hermit was beginning his evening meal. “Welcome, friend,” he cried. “Come in and sup with me.”
As they ate, Offero told the hermit of his errand. “I would find this king called Christ,” he said. “For I have vowed to serve the greatest king, who is afraid of no one. My arms are strong. I can fight for him and make him more powerful than before.”
The hermit smiled. “To find Christ,” he said, “you must first serve him. And to serve him you must not kill your fellowmen, but help them.”
“What can I do then?” asked Offero ruefully. “I am strong to fight. How can I help?”
The hermit looked at him. “Good giant,” he said, “your shoulders are broad and sturdy. They should be able to carry great weights.”
“They can indeed,” cried Offero happily. “It is from them I have my name,—Offero,—the carrier.”
“Then, Offero,” said the hermit quietly, “why not use your shoulders to serve King Christ? There is a river not far from here, which runs deep and wild; and there are many people who come night and day to cross it over. The strongest and hardiest pass through safely, but the old and weak are often swept away by the flood.”
Offero’s eyes flamed with sudden pride. “I can carry them all safely across!” he cried. Then his face darkened. “But how shall I find King Christ?” he asked.