edar Mountain, which is both a physical and a
spiritual fact, is nowise different, and the reader must go back with me
to some very significant events which explain him and account for him.

Little Jim's father was James O'Hartigan in Donegal. The change in the
patronymic was made, not by himself, but by the Government Emigration
Agent at Cork. When James, Sr. came forward to be listed for passage,
the official said: "Oh, hang your O's. I have more of them now than the
column will hold. I'll have to put you in the H's, where there's lots of
room." And so the weight of all the Empire was behind the change.

James Hartigan, Sr. was a typical Irish "bhoy," which is high praise. He
was broad and hearty, with a broad and hearty grin. He was loved and
lovable, blessed with a comely countenance and the joy of a humorous
outlook on life and its vicissitudes. You could not down Jimmy so low
that he might not see some bright and funny aspect in the situation.
This was not only a happy temperamental trait, but it also had a
distinct advantage, for in the moments of deepest self-invited
degradation he never forgot that somewhere ahead, his trail would surely
lead to the uplands once again.

He was what the doctors called "normal human," muscled far above the
average, heart action strong and regular. This combination often
produces two well-marked types--a high-class athlete and a low-class
drunkard. Often these are united in the same individual; or, rather, the
individual appears in the first role, until the second comes to
overmaster it. Such was Jimmy Hartigan, Sr., whose relation to the
Preacher may be labelled Cause Number One.

Those who knew her people said that the forbears of Katherine Muckevay
had seen better days; that the ancient royal blood of Ireland ran in her
veins; that the family name was really Mach-ne-veagh; and that, if every
one had his own, Kitty would be wearing a diamond tiara in the highest
walks of London importance. In ancient days, the Kings of Ulster used to
steal a bride at times from the fair-haired folk across the sea; maybe
that was where Kitty got her shining hair of dusty yellow-red, as well
as the calm control in times of stress, something the psychologists call
cooerdination, which is not a Celtic characteristic.

Of book learning Kitty had almost none, but she had native gifts. She
had wits, good looks, and a wealth of splendid hair, as well as a
certain presence which was her perpetual hed