Many days would have passed before he could have hewn the rock as the padre desired, but, with one blow of an immense drill, in Schio's powerful hand, the rock was cleft in twain. As he reduced it to its proper size and shape, Joza stood by, trembling with fear; then pointed out the chosen spot, and, in silence and darkness, the first stone of the Grand San Pedro was laid.
When the full moon arose, clear and bright, shedding its floods of golden light over the mission of Santa Barbara, and the blue waves that washed its sanded shore, the laborers had gone—Joza, to sleep peacefully in his little cottage, and Schio, down to the echoing caverns by the sounding sea.
Morning came, gorgeous with sunshine and beauty, and the padre walked out to inspect the site of his ambitious dreams.
He was an avaricious and unscrupulous man.
In building this new church, he hoped to erect a tower of strength and greatness for himself, more than an edifice in which to worship the blessed Christ, the immaculate Virgin, and the holy saints.
When he saw the huge foundation-stone that Schio had laid, he was greatly amazed.
Even the hewing of it, he knew to be the work of days, and there it was, cleanly cleft, and in its proper place.
"There is a mystery here," he said; "the people will believe it a miracle; be it as it will, I must make the most of it."
He called Joza, who came to him smiling and happy.