The annals of the mountain-desert have never been written and can never be written.

They are merely a vast mass of fact and tradition and imagining which floats from tongue to tongue from the Rockies to the Sierra Nevadas.

A man may be a fact all his life and die only a local celebrity.

Then again, he may strike sparks from that imagination which runs riot by camp-fires and at the bars of the crossroads saloons.
In that case he becomes immortal.

It is not that lies are told about him or impossible feats ascribed to him, but every detail about him is seized upon and passed on with a most scrupulous and loving care.
In due time he will become a tradition.