I want to tell the story of Marx Omlis here. He is an early rascal and, in addition, a shepherd, hunter, mountain guide, and much more restless. His life has both light and heavy chapters, with such colorful faces that one might doubt whether it is always the same hero. But the same mountains always look in with their long, gray rocky bodies and silver hats on their heads. And the same green Alps always shine up from their embrace, while the same brown-spotted cattle bellow and moo around all the low barns and their old, stone-covered shingle roofs. Above all, however, from every leaf, the same wild and beautiful head of Pilatus looms toward the sky. And the life of Marx Omlis is firmly attached to Pilatus. He could not free himself from it, no matter how far he fled. The gray, old mountain plays the leading role in his life.