It was the first and the last of its kind, and its history would never be written.

The world outside the mountains knew nothing of it.

Like the men who made up its transient life it would soon be a forgotten thing of the past.

Even the mountains would forget it.

But more than once, as he had stood a part of it, his blood had warmed at the thought of the things it held secret, the things that would die with it, the big human drama it stood for, its hidden tragedies, its savage romance, its passing comedy.