“A Sink Hole is whar onct was a volcano er whar the water frum the mountains bores a hole in the desert. Somewhar out thar in Utah,” continued the speaker, “somewhar between the Colorado River an’ the western mountains is the Sink Hole o’ the Lost Injuns. A quarter uv a mile away they ain’t no sign uv it exceptin’, as I seen it first, smoke o’ sulphur driftin’ out. It’s sides ain’t fur climbin’—they air nigh straight except whar the dry river bed falls into the pit. When the wet season’s on ye can’t get in er out. In the dry months they’s steps cut in the arroyo bed.
“When the floods begin to eat a hole in the sand whar that pit is, they dug out holes in the rocks. Then the water et furdder down and made more holes. An’ that’s the way it went on, I reckon, makin’ drifts like a silver mine. Then these Eskimo-Chink Injuns come along, fur the water that wuz at the bottom o’ the sink mebbe, and scooped the caves bigger and jined them till it was a home under the desert.”
Roy’s eyes bulged with amazement.
“And they found you and took you down there?”
“The white boss did. I calkerlate that sulphur smoke leakin’ out o’ the lower tunnels wuz what did the business. And sence them Injuns don’t stir ’round much, I reckon I must a stumbled into that dry arroyo. Like as not, I was on the aidge o’ the sink when the white man seen me. Anyway, they took me in.”
“And the white man?” asked Roy. “What about him?”
“You’d a thought he’d a give me the glad hand now, wouldn’t you?” continued the westerner. “He did—not. I didn’t even know about him till night was comin’ on agin. Ye could tell it was night an’ day down thar because near’ all them rooms er caves had a winder looking out on the sink. Towards night, after I was feelin’ a good sight better, and was figgerin’ on jist what sort uv a deal I’d put over on the Injuns, all my plans wuz knocked galley west.
“Ye kin imagine. It was jist shadderin’ into dark when a figger come into the room like he was a emperor or somepin. He was the imposinest being I ever see. I knowed he was white by his hair and beard which was spread out over his chest like one o’ them Bible prophets what are offerin’ up lambs fur sacerfice. On his feet they wuz sandals. An’, instid o’ white men’s clothes, he was dressed mainly in a white blanket with a belt o’ silver buckles ’at I reckon’d weigh five pounds.
“‘Thank God,’ I mumbles kind o’ thick like an’ tryin’ to set up. He only bowed like I wuz a salutin’ him an’ never cracked a smile. ‘I’m much obleeged,’ I went on, tryin’ to be sociable, ‘fur the water.’ Instid o’ sayin’ he was glad or somepin pleasant, the old geezer, in a voice like a preacher, begun to talk Injun to the old baldy by me. An’ sich Injun! Then he left, old baldy makin’ a low bow as his white boss walked away, like as if he was leadin’ a army. Thet night, they brought me some kind o’ meal mixed with water an’ more water, an’ another ole grandpa come an’ set by the door o’ my room till day.