“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.