He toiled and fed alternately. He made a nest inside his cave, a mass of leaves and grasses dragged down into his surface run (to thrust his mouth out was sufficient), and pulled or pushed into their proper station.
This done he slept, his head tucked down between his hands, his hind feet curled up under him.
All but his ears slept soundly.
*****
One-Two—One-Two—One-Two. Twin footfalls almost over him, and with them a soliloquy deep-toned.
"Comin' right down valley they be. That's them water-works. Down goes springs. Up comes nunkey-tumps. I'll get this one for sure. Here! Tatters!"
Out like a loosened spring leapt Bartimæus, and plunged into his surface run. Half-way along it he stopped dead and listened, the tip of his pink nose thrust through the roof.
Man's booted tread he knew full well; man's voice he knew, but something else was coming,—something which lilted pit-a-pat, something with yielding velvet pads, something four-footed. It danced towards him, louder still and louder, till a hoarse whisper checked it. "Steady you fool! Here good dog! Steady!"
The pink nose dropped. Only one grass-blade stirred, but Tatters saw it.