In spite of his forced air of cheerfulness the outlook grew more and more hopeless. Somewhere down here was the leak, but where? Finally he came to a deep jagged pot-hole which swallowed his stick and more--down to the limit of his armpits. He sent Niltci for a pole, his face drawn with anxiety, for failure as an engineer, utter and complete, was now staring him in the face. When it arrived it went down into that pot-hole its full depth, to touch only ragged scoriations of lava, at the bottoms of any one of which might be the fissure. “Sid, we’re done!” cried Scotty, hopelessly, tears starting from his eyes. “Only concrete and lots of it can fix this! Oh, Sid, I’d give anything in the world to be able to help them!” wept Scotty, prodding futilely with his pole in a mechanical effort to relieve the stress in his mind. “They must all go! All this must die!”--waving his arm around at the green and flowering things that made the valley gracious. “You were right, Sid! This is the object lesson I needed--gorry, but I needed it in all my visionary pride! This is what I would have done to Honanta’s people, only in another way. The pity of it! I see it now--I don’t _want_ their mine--at such a price!” “Isn’t there anything we can _do_?” barked Sid rebelliously. “Throw in rocks--dirt--skins--_anything_ to stop it!” Scotty shook his head mournfully. “We’d be too late--look at the water now!” At once the hopelessness of it all overtook even Sid’s buoyant nature. The water was now only two feet deep and a wide area of glistening mud swept down from the brink. The edges of it had already dried in the desert air. Sid waded out and faced Honanta, shaking his head solemnly. “My son, why did the white man do this cruel thing?” asked the chief, his deep voice filled with gentle rebuke. “My people must wander forth, now--I know not where.” “Because he wanted your mine, Honanta!” gritted Sid passionately, over the injustice of it all. “To get it for himself he hoped to lock us all up here, to die of starvation, like the people of the Enchanted Mesa. And now look how it has turned out! I stand here--ashamed, Honanta--ashamed of my race!” “_Take_ your mine! It is always so when the white man finds gold! All this must die! The red man must go!” “No!” barked Scotty wildly through his tears. “No, chief! You won’t have to go! Concrete can fix it! As soon as the water is gone we shall get at the crack and seal it. We’ll mend the basin and then leave you in peace forever. I promise it, here and now! Never, never shall any mention of your mine cross my lips!” “My son, many, many rains it took to fill that tank! My people were careful to use each year no more than the Great Mystery saw fit to send us. We have done no wrong, yet is the face of the Great Mystery hid behind a cloud. We must go forth!” sighed Honanta.