It was well known how Mummy CaÑon obtained its name. High up on the face of a bluff was a large rock, almost human in shape, in wrappings like a mummy. Mummy CaÑon had not yet attracted the attention of sight-seers. No railroad ran near it, and only a rattling stage-coach line carried visitors between the nearest depot and the small settlement of Jamestown, or “Jimtown,” as it was popularly called, near which Dr. Byrd had located his boys’ school.

Dr. Byrd had served many years as a physician on English ships visiting the Orient, and, by both inheritance and good fortune, had become wealthy. When about fifty years old he found that the heat and dampness of the tropical climate were undermining his health and that he must heed the warnings of nature. So he returned home, but in London found that his throat still troubled him, and he decided that he most move elsewhere.

His children being grown and married, he and his wife sold part of their personal effects and came to America. Then they traveled about a good deal, trying to find a climate that would promote better health for the doctor, but every place they visited proved unsatisfactory until they reached Colorado.

The altitude of this state, second highest of all the states of the Union, together with the atmospheric conditions, proved “just the thing.” But where should they make their home? Denver was delightful as to climate, but the doctor was not contented there. He loved nature, to be out of doors; he had no patience with clanging street cars, smoking engines, and houses huddled together. So they began their search anew.

One day they stopped at Lake City and took a stage-coach ride over the La Garita Mountains. The vehicle was only a rattling two-seated open buggy, drawn by four horses that might have pulled a plow over any American field, but it was dignified with the name stage-coach. The driver was a young man who had a contract with the government for transporting mail to and from various mining points along the way, and he added to his profits by carrying passengers and all manner of light freight.

Along the foot of the mountains they rode for several miles, then up a grade and around a spur of a perpendicular hill, up, up, up, winding here and there, overlooking deep gullies, dashing downgrade into a ragged valley, with its noisy brook; then up again and on and around they wound to where the pines stuck in the mountain sides like toothpicks.

In the course of this journey they passed through Mummy CaÑon. But this gorge had not yet received its name, and when the imaginative Dr. Byrd beheld the “swathed form” on the face of a lofty bluff, he called attention to it.

“That’s the mummy,” said the driver in a matter-of-fact way.

“It looks just like an Egyptian mummy,” declared the doctor. “Does everybody call it that?”

“Everybody around here does.”

“What’s the name of this caÑon?”

“’Tain’t got none. I s’pose it’ll get a name one o’these days when more people settle ’round here.”

“It’s going to have one right now,” announced the doctor. “Its name is Mummy CaÑon. I call you two as witnesses of the christening.”

“You’ll have to stay here a while and tell everybody or the name won’t stick,” laughed Mrs. Byrd.

“And that’s just what I’m going to do,” was the surprising answer. “I’m going to make my home right near here—with your permission, of course, my dear. This is just the country I want to live in. It’s good for my health. It’s good for my eyes; I like to look at it.”

That settled it. Mrs. Byrd was amiable and happy to live in any place where her husband’s health could improve. Moreover, she, too, was delighted with the scenery and praised it almost as much as did the doctor.

But there were other features of special interest in the caÑon. This part of the state had once been inhabited by the cliff-dwellers, prehistoric Pueblo Indians. Ruins of their early dwellings and defenses were to be found here and there, although usually they were in such dilapidated condition that it was difficult to make out their character except at close range.

The “mummy bluff” stood out high on the side of a most remarkable mountain, especially noticeable because of its shape. The sides looked unscalable and the top appeared to have been cut off clean and level with a monster knife, a few hundred feet lower than the neighboring lofty peaks. Before leaving the caÑon, Dr. Byrd gave a name also to this mountain. He called it Flathead.

The doctor was well pleased with “Jimtown.” In fact, he was pleased with everything now. The mining settlement was booming when he and Mrs. Byrd arrived. It was located close to the side of a mountain; a few of the houses, in fact, stood a short distance up on the steep slope. The place was so busy that nobody seemed to have time to notice the arrival of so humble a pair as a London physician and his wife, and they selected a site and built a home without attracting any particular attention.

The site was located near a pretty mountain-spring lake that fed a tributary of the Rio Grande. It was about three miles from Mummy CaÑon. The scenery of course was beautiful, as it is in all of mountainous Colorado. The lake was clear and cold. It rested in a pocket more than a hundred feet above a delightful valley and behind it was a range of tall, steep, snow-capped mountains. The outlet was down several natural terraces that converted the little river into a succession of dashing cascades before it reached the valley.

This place was several miles from “Jimtown,” the nearest settlement. Dr. Byrd engaged servants and began the cultivation of a considerable farm. The beauty of the spot and the personality of the settlers soon attracted attention, and several others moved there and began the cultivation of farms. Before long a post office branch was opened and the stage-coach line ran two miles out of its way to deliver mail, groceries and general supplies.

Meanwhile the doctor made acquaintances rapidly. He was a most entertaining person to meet. He had traveled extensively and seemed to know the world. He had an excellent library and a magnificent collection of curios from many countries. Moreover, he had a delightful personality, tall, straight, athletic figure, kindly intelligent face, and a shock of curly iron-gray hair that commanded the admiration of all who saw it.

But the doctor’s best friends were boys. And there was a reason for this. The boys whom he met always found in him a best friend. He knew all about them, their likes and dislikes, their sports and their hardships. He had a vivid recollection of his own boyhood days, and he could reel off yarns by the hour. Just put him into a company of youngsters and let him begin: “When I was a boy,” and everybody was all attention in an instant. Of course there were not many boys living in the neighborhood of the new mountain home, but there were a good many in Jimtown, where the doctor soon became a familiar figure. And there was always company at “Lakefarm,” as he had named the place, and the “company” always was urged to bring the boys along. Frequently they would remain at Lakefarm after the grown-ups had departed, and every summer the place became “a regular boy ranch,” as one visitor called it.

Finally the doctor got so interested in “boy-ology” that he resolved to open a boys’ school. Manual training had become quite the fashion in the making of young men all over the country and this appealed to the owner of Lakefarm. So he let his ideas become known and was astonished as well as pleased at the indorsement they received.

Five years after settling at Lakefarm Dr. Byrd built a schoolhouse and a shop and a dormitory on his farm, engaged instructors and servants, and then announced that he was ready to receive pupils. It was surprising how rapidly the school was filled. In two weeks Dr. Byrd announced that he could receive no more, and the registry list was closed.

Most of the boys were of either wealthy or well-to-do parents. Naturally this was an almost necessary condition, as the tuition and living expenses at an institution of this kind were not the lowest. But to offset this, the doctor made arrangements for receiving a few pupils on nominal payments or free of charge. One of these poor boys was Hal Kenyon, whom Dr. Byrd found selling newspapers on a street corner in Denver. Hal proved to be such a bright lad that the owner of Lakefarm decided at once to do something for him. Hal’s parents were willing and he went to school in the mountains.

Three successful and happy years had passed since the opening of the school on Lakefarm. Meanwhile the settlement around the school grew until the census enumerator reported fifty families. Previously the town had been known as Byrd’s Place, or just Byrd’s, but now the subject of a permanent name arose and a meeting was called to settle the matter.

Flathead was the name selected. After this the name of the school was changed in the popular mind. Officially it bore the title of Lakefarm Institute, but soon it was spoken of frequently as Flathead School, while some humorously played on the idea suggested in the name and styled it the “School for Level-headed Boys.”

This latter pleased Dr. Byrd very well, for it expressed his purpose in a few words, to develop in his pupils a liberal supply of common sense.