Docas rushed forward and seized the blazing basket, but it was so badly burned that it could not be used.
“Umwa! Umwa!” he cried. “You silly little baby! Mother will have to work for weeks to make her basket for grass-seed again.”
Ama felt very sorry when she saw the burnt basket.
“You must go to-day and get some more roots with which to make some new baskets,” she said.
After breakfast Docas and Heema went down to the edge of the bay.
“How are you going to dig up the roots?” asked Heema.
“With my toes,” answered Docas.
The long round roots ran along just under the ground in the mud. Docas stuck his bare toes into the mud, wriggling them along under a root. He loosened it a little at each wriggle, and by and by he pulled up a long straight root.
Heema helped also, and that evening they carried home a big bundle of roots.
The next day they went up in the hills and gathered a large number of maidenhair ferns. They came back by the San Francisquito creek and broke off a great many willow branches.