cottage under Imboden Hill, and
leaves an after-glow of glory on a
majestic heap that lies against the east.
Sometimes it spans the Gap with a
rainbow.

Strange people and strange tales
come through this Gap from the Kentucky
hills. Through it came these
two, late one day--a man and a woman--
afoot. I met them at the foot-
bridge over Roaring Fork.

``Is thar a preacher anywhar aroun'
hyeh?'' he asked. I pointed to the
cottage under Imboden Hill. The girl
flushed slightly and turned her head
away with a rather unhappy smile.
Without a word, the mountaineer led
the way towards town. A moment
more and a half-breed Malungian passed
me on the bridge and followed
them.

At dusk the next day I saw the
mountaineer chopping wood at a shanty
under a clump of rhododendron on
the river-bank. The girl was cooking
supper inside. The day following he
was at work on the railroad, and on