Then summer was gone and it was October, and the aspens turned yellow in the canyons and the nights grew cold, and Rushmore’s rooftops glistened with morning frost. Most of the remaining jobs had been done and most of the remaining money had been spent, and layoffs were begun and the crew commenced melting away. On October 31, the mountain for the last time echoed the chatter of bumpers and the clamor of drills. Then, at four o’clock on that day it was returned to the timeless silence from which Gutzon Borglum so many years before had roused it. And at that moment the great faces carved upon
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