"I believe she is trying to dig up something," he said.
"Claws are stronger than beaks," said the Good Wolf. "I will go and help her." He went to the place where the green leaves grew, and the minute he came near her the blue and white bird hopped out of his way and hopped on to the nearest bush and sang the little whistling song she had learned from Barty. It sounded so like talking that Barty almost shouted with delight.
"She says 'all right,'" he cried out. "That is bird talk."
The Good Wolf had begun to be very busy himself. He was digging very fast in the earth with his claws. Soon Barty saw he had dug up the root of the green leaves and it looked like a nice potato. He looked quite pleased and excited and went on digging and digging until he had dug up six fine roots and then he sat down by them and panted delightedly, with his nice big red tongue hanging out of his mouth.
"Well," he said, when he found his breath again, "the intelligence of that bird is beyond everything. What would you think of a hot roast potato, when your belt got a little loose again?"
"I should love it," answered Barty. "Sometimes my mother lets me roast a potato for myself, and it is nicer than anything."
The Good Wolf looked down at his six roots and chuckled.
"Blue Crest has shown us something just like potatoes, only nicer. There are plenty of them growing about here. We can always dig them up, and when we have roasted them we can get some of the salt that has dried on the rocks by the sea to eat them with. What do you think of that?"
Barty was too joyful for anything.
"It is just like Robinson Crusoe," he cried out. "Just—just—just! He was always finding things."