CHAPTER NINE: LITTLE LOST
Little Lost--somehow the name appealed to Bud, whose instinct
for harmony extended to words and phrases and, for that
matter, to everything in the world that was beautiful. From
the time when he first heard Little Lost mentioned, he had
felt a vague regret that chance had not led him there instead
of to the Muleshoe. Brands he had heard all his life as the
familiar, colloquial names for ranch headquarters. The
Muleshoe was merely a brand name. Little Lost was something
else, and because Buddy had been taught to "wait and find out"
and to ask questions only as a last resort, Bud was still in
ignorance of the meaning of Little Lost. He knew, from careless
remarks made in his presence, that the mail came to Little Lost,
and that there was some sort of store where certain everyday
necessities were kept, for which the store-keeper charged "two
prices." But there was also a ranch, for he sometimes heard the
boys mention the Little Lost cattle, and speak of some man as a
rider for the Little Lost.
So to Little Lost Bud rode blithely next morning, riding
Stopper and leading Smoky, Sunfish and the pack following as
a matter of course. Again his trained instinct served him
faithfully. He had a very good general idea of Burroback
Valley, he knew that the Muleshoe occupied a fair part of the
south side, and guessed that he must ride north, toward the
Gold Gap Mountains, to find the place he wanted.
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