They tried cutting another tunnel on the opposite side of the fossil, but this proved rather awkward. The creature was close to this side of the crack, and they had to cut limestone as well as the softer tuff. The saw proved capable of handling this—it would have handled granite without trouble—but went a little more slowly. Eventually, however, the two men were working on opposite sides of the fossil, each in a tunnel extending some two meters into the cliff face.
Half a day's work uncovered the leg bones sufficiently to show that Krendall's first idea had been right. There were only the two major joints, each a trifle shorter than the corresponding parts of the human skeleton. The lower leg was single rather than double, however; knee and ankle both consisted of ball-and-socket joints; and with this fact determined the men paused for thought.
"Now why," mused Krendall aloud, "should any sort of creature need that articulation?"
"Could that foot be a hand instead?" asked Sulewayo.
Of course, questions like that should have awaited the results of detailed examination in a laboratory. Equally of course, the two men proceeded to clear one of the "feet" a little more thoroughly in order to find out for themselves. The answer was not helpful, though.
"He might have picked up a twig with it, but he couldn't have held it any more tightly than I can in my toes," was Krendall's verdict. "It's a bigger and flatter foot than ours. But it's a foot—nothing more."
"Maybe a swimming organ on the side?" suggested Sulewayo cautiously.
"Seems doubtful. If that joint evolved for such a purpose, I should think there'd be a corresponding modification in the foot bones, too—say a flattening such as you see in the paddles of some of the Mesozoic sea reptiles of Earth."
"Reasonable."
"But not necessarily right. That I admit. Anything else strike you?"