Barty leaned forward with his hands on his knees and gazed with all his might.
It walked past them and it walked the full length of the cave until it reached the corner nearest the window.
"It's stopping," called out Barty, and the next minute he called out again: "It's lying down."
It did lie down, almost as if it were tired, but it did not lie still more than a minute. It rolled over on its side and lay there, and there was a scuffling and a couple of black legs were to be seen kicking themselves loose, and a pair of black arms twisting themselves from under it, and a little black wrinkled face and head with cunning, bright eyes pushed themselves out, and the minute Barty saw them he shouted aloud with glee:
"Saturday! Saturday! Saturday!" he cried out. "It was Man Saturday all the time. He was carrying the bundle of leaves himself and it was so big and he was so little and the leaves hung down so that we didn't see him."
Man Saturday came running across to his little master. It was plain to be be seen that he was so pleased about something that he did not know what to do. He caught hold of Barty's hand and chatterdy-chattered at him and tried to pull him towards the corner.
"He wants me to do something," said Barty. "He brought the leaves for something. He wants me to find out what they are for."
Man Saturday danced before him to the corner where the bundle of leaves lay. He began to pull at the twigs which tied them together, and Barty knelt down and helped him.