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Updated: May 5, 2025
Ay, ay, my lads, let us hate the one and cleave to the other." A day or two after the publication of Lemsford's "Songs of the Sirens," a sad accident befell a mess-mate of mine, one of the captains of the mizzen-top. He was a fine little Scot, who, from the premature loss of the hair on the top of his head, always went by the name of Baldy.
'Bout three months ago my cousin Bud, fourteen year old, was riding through the woods on t'other side of the river, and didn't have no weapon with him, which was blame' foolishness, and in a lonesome place he hears a horse a-coming behind him, and sees old Baldy Shepherdson a-linkin' after him with his gun in his hand and his white hair a-flying in the wind; and 'stead of jumping off and taking to the brush, Bud 'lowed he could out-run him; so they had it, nip and tuck, for five mile or more, the old man a-gaining all the time; so at last Bud seen it warn't any use, so he stopped and faced around so as to have the bullet holes in front, you know, and the old man he rode up and shot him down.
"Show us where it was!" eagerly cried the cowboy, and when the Curlytops had ridden to it, with Baldy and the others following, the lame cowboy, whose foot was a little better, exclaimed: "Well, if the Curlytops haven't gone and done it!" "Done what?" asked their mother. "They've found the lost cattle and horses!" "You mean Uncle Frank's!" asked Teddy. "That's just what I mean!
They had now discovered, first of all Europeans, the Rocky Mountains that great snowy range of North America which extends from Robson Peak on the eastern borders of British Columbia to Baldy Peak in New Mexico.
Cullingworth reports the history of a woman in whom both ovaries were apparently involved by dermoids, who had given birth to 12 children and had three miscarriages the last, three months before the removal of the growths. The accompanying illustration, taken from Baldy, pictures a dermoid cyst of the complicated variety laid open and exposing the contents in situ.
While "Scotty's" voice broke as, leaning down to stroke the dog tenderly, he said, "I know you're game, Baldy, game to the end; but it can't be done, and I'll hook you up to prove it." To his astonishment Baldy moved forward; very, very slowly at first, then slightly faster and with less and less stiffness, until in an hour or so of moderate speed he was himself once more.
And about the second week in February the serious work that is the forerunner of these spring races is begun; and Baldy found his time full to overflowing with the duties that had long since become joys. Many luxuries were added to their usual comforts, and all sorts of improvements made in equipment.
"And what are you doing at six in the morning looking for a foreign-looking girl?" "It's the darndest luck," Johnny broke out explosively. "We we got lost last night going to a picnic on Old Baldy and then we got separated " "How?" "How?" Johnny stared back at Barry Elder and found something oddly fixed and challenging in that young man's eyes.
How is everything?" "All right, daddy; but what about you? Where have you been?" "Clean back to Mill Park. The blamed cayuses kept just ahead of me all the way." "Poor old dad! And on top of that came the snow." "Yes, and a whole hatful. I couldn't get back over the high pass. Had to go round by Lost Lake, and to cap all, Old Baldy took a notion not to lead.
"Well, yes, in a way," Baldy admitted. "But it ain't safe to go watch 'em. Them Indians are peculiar. They don't want strangers lookin' on, and more than once they've made trouble when outsiders tried to climb up there and watch. As I said, the Indians come from their reservation, which is several miles away, to that place for their ceremonies.
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