David could not answer. The earth reeled under him and would not stop no matter how tightly he clutched the grass.
"Puff—I repeat, I am—puff—an exceedingly powerful flyer. There are few birds—none, I daresay—who—puff—couldhave done even this much. The truth of the matter is that you are a lot—puff—heavier than you look. I hope you are not being overfed at home?"
"I—I don't know," said David, wondering whether or not he was going to be sick.
"Well, my course is clear," said the Phoenix firmly. "I must practice. Setting-up exercises, roadwork, and what not. Rigorous diet. Lots of sleep. Regular hours. Courage, my dear fellow! We shall do it yet!"
And so for the following week the Phoenix practiced.
Every morning David climbed up to the ledge, bringing sandwiches for himself, cookies for the Phoenix, and a wet towel. Then, while he kept count, the Phoenix did setting-up exercises. After this, the bird would jog trot up and down the ledge and practice jumping. Then there would be a fifteen-minute rest and refreshment period. And when that was over, the Phoenix would launch itself into the air. This was the part David liked best. It was a magnificent sight. The Phoenix dashed back and forth at top speed, wheeled in circles, shot straight up like a rocket—plunged, hovered, looped—rolled, soared, fluttered. Now and then it would swoop back to the ledge beside David and wipe the sweat from its brow.
"I trust you see signs of progress, my boy?"
David would wrap the wet towel around the Phoenix's neck. "You're doing better and better, Phoenix. I especially like that part where you twist over on your back and loop and plunge, all at the same time."
"I do perform that rather well, don't I? It is not easy. But just the thing for acquiring (ouch!) muscle tone. Are there any more cookies? Ah, there are. Delicious! As I was saying, let this be a lesson to you, my boy. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."
The Phoenix would take wing again. And David would settle back against a rock and watch. Sometimes he thought of the education he was to get. Sometimes he thought how nice it would be ifhecould fly. And sometimes he did not think at all, but just sat with his eyes half shut, feeling the sunlight on his face and listening to the rustle of the wind in the thicket.
At the end of the week the Phoenix, after a brilliant display of acrobatics, landed on the ledge, clasped its wings behind its back, and looked solemnly at David.
"Well, my boy," it said, "I believe your education can begin forthwith. Are you ready?"
4:In Which David and thePhoenix Go To Visitthe Gryffins, and aGreat Danger IsNarrowly Averted
A chill raced up and down David's spine as he got to his feet.
"Do—do you think a week's practice is enough?"
"Absolutely, my dear fellow. I am now in the very pink of condition. Not that I was ever out of condition, mind you. It was merely that I—ah—well, to be brief, my boy, I am now ready."
"Yes, but—well, you remember the last time."
"Yes. Look here—if it will make you feel better, suppose we have a trial flight along the ledge."
"Well—all right."
David got up as before on the Phoenix's back. The Phoenix spread its wings and hopped into the air. They glided easily down the length of the ledge, clearing the thicket in the middle by a good two feet.
"There you are, my boy," said the bird proudly, as they landed at the other end. "Shall we go?"
"Let's go," said David, as bravely as he could.
They were in the air again. Once more he felt that rush of wind against his face and heard the pounding of wings. But this time there was no giddy downward swoop. He breathed again and opened his eyes. The world was falling away, and everything on it was growing smaller by the second. The valley could be cradled in two hands; the mountains on either side looked like wrinkles in gray cloth. Now he could see plains in the distance, and little silver threads of rivers. As he looked, the whole world began to revolve slowly. The Phoenix was soaring in a wide circle.
"Well, my boy," it called over its shoulder, "whom shall we visit first?"
"It's really up to you, Phoenix," David shouted back, "but how about the—the—Biffens or Whiffens, or whatever you called them?"
"You mean the Gryffins, Gryffons, and Gryffens, my boy? Very well. We shall visit the Gryffins only, however. It is best to leave the others alone."
The Phoenix swung around and began to fly toward the morning sun with such tremendous speed that David had to crouch down to avoid being blown off. The wind screamed past his ears, tore at his shirt and hair, and made his eyes brim over with tears. It was cold, but he was too excited to care. Below them, plains, rivers, forests, and cities rushed across the face of the earth.
"This is wonderful, Phoenix!" David shouted.
The Phoenix's reply was not clear. "... normal speed ... air stream ... prime days of my youth ..." were the only words David caught, but he could tell from the tone that the Phoenix was pleased.
The view below was not to last long. Within half an hour they had run into a heavy overcast, and for a long time it was like flying through very wet, cold cotton. David glanced down, hoping to see the fog thin out. Suddenly he caught sight of a black object rocketing up toward them. Before he could call out a warning, thething hurtled by, so close that its backwash very nearly knocked him from the bird's back. The Phoenix reduced speed; and the black object, after banking in a wide curve, came cruising up alongside. David was amazed to see that it was a pale but beautiful lady, dressed all in black, sitting on a broom.
"Hello, Phoenix!" she cried in a teasing voice. "I haven't seen you ineverso long."
"Good morning, I am sure," the Phoenix replied stiffly, staring straight ahead.
"Phoenix," the lady continued coaxingly, "I'm awfully bored. Won't you race me? Please?"
"Idle hands find mischief to do," said the Phoenix severely. "Weare making good use of our time, and I suggest thatyoudo the same."
"Don't be so stuffy, Phoenix." She pouted. "Come and race with me. I've got a new broom, and I want to see how good it is. Please!"
"No," said the Phoenix sharply.
"Oh, all right foryou!" she said, tossing her head. "You just don't dare, because you know I'll beat your tail feathers off!" And she shot back into the mist below.
"Indeed!" the Phoenix snorted. "Beat my tail feathers off! Ha!"
"Is she a Witch?" David asked.
"Yes, my boy, and a shocking example of the decline of the younger generation. She will come to no good end, believe me. Tail feathers, indeed!"
Just then they burst out of the clouds and into the hot sunlight. Below them, the land was wild and desolate, a vast rolling plain covered for the most part withdry, tawny grass. Here and there were groves of trees drooping beneath the sun. The Phoenix, still snorting indignantly to itself, dropped to within a hundred feet of the ground. They began to soar back and forth.
"Can you see anything, my boy?"
David had never seen a Gryffin, of course; so he was not sure what to look for. But he caught sight of something lying in the shade of a bush and pointed it out to the Phoenix.
"Ah, quite so," the Phoenix said doubtfully. "It does not look like a—but we can take a closer look."
They landed and walked toward the bush. In its shadow sprawled a very untidy animal. Its tail and hindquarters were exactly like those of a panther, its chest and forelegs were like a hawk's, and it had pointed wings. Burrs matted its dusty fur. Its claws were shabby and split, and numerous black flies were crawling over its haunches. The bush trembled with its snoring.
"Bah! We are wasting our time here, my boy. This is a Gryffen. A disgusting brute, isn't it?" And the Phoenix sniffed disapprovingly.
"Maybe if we wake it up," David suggested, "it could tell us where the other ones live."
"Next to impossible. For one thing, a cannon couldnot awaken the beast. For another thing, it would not, even if awake, be able to tell us anything. You simply cannot imagine the stupidity of these brutes."
"Well, let'stryit, anyway," David said.
"Very well, my boy. But it will be a complete waste of time." The Phoenix shrugged its shoulders, stepped up to the Gryffen, and kicked it violently.
"Phoenix!" David cried in alarm. "Don't hurt it!"
"No fear," said the Phoenix, delivering another lusty kick. "One simply cannot damage a sleeping Gryffen. Give me a hand, my boy."
David took hold of the Gryffen's wing, and the Phoenix seized its tail. For the next ten minutes they kicked and pulled and pounded, shouting "HEY!" and "WAKE UP!" at the top of their lungs. It was hot work, and David finally admitted to himself that the Phoenix had been right. But before he could say so, the Phoenix completely lost its temper and savagely bit the Gryffen's tail.
That did it. The Gryffen opened one eye halfway and said, "Unffniph?"
"GET UP!!" the Phoenix bellowed.
The Gryffen struggled into a sitting position and yawned a tremendous and noisy yawn. Then it squintedblearily at David and murmured, "What day is it?"
"Wednesday," David said. "Could you please tell us—"
"Oh, Wednesday," said the Gryffen. It thought about this for a while, mumbling "Wednesday ... Wednesday ..." to itself. It lifted one leg as if to scratch the fly bites, changed its mind in mid-gesture, and dropped the leg again. "Oh,Wednesday," it said at last. "So it isn't Saturday?"
"No," said David. "What we want to know is—"
"Not Saturday," said the Gryffen, sinking down to the ground with a huge sigh of relief. "Ah! Come back on Saturday. Saturday afternoon. I generally get up on Saturday ... in the ... afternoon...." The words faded into a snore.
"There you are, my dear fellow," said the Phoenix. "Just as I said. Oaf! Boor!"
"Averyannoying animal," said David angrily.
"I agree, my boy. But the Gryffins are different, I assure you. Now, let me see. Where should we look—"
"There they come!" David cried suddenly. "Look!" And indeed, a number of winged creatures were loping down a hillside toward them.
"Good heavens!" the Phoenix shouted. "Those are the ones we donotwant to meet! On my back,quick!"
"What are they?" David gasped as he threw himself on the bird's back.
"Gryffons!"
The Phoenix rushed along the ground a few feet and sprang into the air. But it was too late. The foremost Gryffons, with powerful strokes of their wings, shot up to meet them. The Phoenix swerved sharply. They missed the snapping beak of the first Gryffon by half an inch and dodged the second—only to smash into a third.David was stunned by the blow and the fall. When he regained consciousness, he found himself in the tight grip of two Gryffons. The Phoenix was struggling feebly with another, and still more were crowding around them, screaming like hawks.
They looked like the sleeping Gryffen, but were as large as ponies. Their eyes were yellow and unblinking, and their tails twitched like an angry cat's. Their smell, like the lion house in the zoo, made David feel faint.
"Well, Phoenix," said the largest Gryffon coldly, "you know the Rule, I believe?"
The Phoenix smiled weakly and cleared its throat. "Ah, there, Gryffon," it said unsteadily. "Fancy meeting you here. Ah—ah—rule? What rule?"
"Rule 26," said the Gryffon. "'No human being shall be allowed to enter the—'"
"Oh, that rule," said the Phoenix, with a careless laugh. "I thought everyone knew that the Council of 1935 had changed it. Can it be that you have not yet heard?"
"That won't do, Phoenix. You have also heard, of course, of the penalty for breaking the Rule, which you must suffer along with this human boy?"
"Now, one moment, my dear Gryffon! I—ah—"
"Death!"
The Phoenix quailed, and David's legs went limp under him. But they had no chance to plead with the Gryffons. Their captors formed two lines, one on each side of them, and at a scream of command from the leader, all began to march. The Gryffon that had been holding the Phoenix winked horribly at David and made a throat-cutting gesture with its wing.
"Courage, my boy," the Phoenix whispered. "It is always darkest before dawn."
Presently they reached a hillside. David and the Phoenix were marched up to a cave and thrown in. Two of the Gryffons sat down at the entrance to guard them while the others went off to consider the best method of carrying out the penalty.
David was terribly frightened now, but he did not want to let the Phoenix know it. In a voice which trembled a little he asked, "What are we going to do?"
The Phoenix frowned. "Do not be downcast, my boy. My brain is equal to any occasion. I shall Think. Silence, please."
And the Phoenix, covering its eyes with one wing, Thought.
To keep himself occupied, David explored the cave. But there was nothing to see. The cave was small and bare. He tested the walls thoroughly to see if there were any places where they might dig their way out. There were none. His feet raised a cloud of fine dust, which got into his eyes and nose and made him sneeze violently. Discouraged, he went back to the Phoenix and sat down. There was a long silence.
Gradually an idea came to David. It started as a small, faint thought at the back of his mind, wavered, began to grow and expand and fill out—became bigger and clearer and better and—
"Phoenix!" cried David, jumping to his feet.
"My boy, my very dear boy," said the Phoenix, its voice breaking with emotion, "I have Thought, I have Pondered, I have—well, to be brief, it is no use. Stiff upper lip, my boy! We are Doomed."
"Phoenix, I—"
"Let this be a lesson to you, my boy, even though it be your last one. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Ah! who could have said, in the golden days of my youth, that I should come to such an end! Oh, miserable bird! Oh, unhappy boy!"
"Phoenix—"
"But we can show them how to die, my boy! We still have that—the last magnificent gesture. Let those who have lived wisely and well show that they can die in the same way! I hope I am to go first, so that you may have an example to follow."
"Phoenix!"
"My boy?"
"Listen, please!" And David whispered in the Phoenix's ear.
The plan had seemed like a good one while it was still in his mind, but put into words it sounded a little too simple. As he whispered, David began to feel more and more foolish, so that finally he stopped altogether.
"I—I guess it's really kind of silly," he stammered.
But the Phoenix was looking at him with hope and admiration in its eyes. "My very dear chap," it said solemnly, "I salute you. I humbly await your signal."
"Do you really think it will work?"
"My boy, it must—it can—it shall. Proceed."
Poor as the plan now seemed to David, he prepared to carry it out. Holding his breath so as not to sneeze again, he scooped up as much dust as he could hold in two hands. Then he took his position on one side of the cave, nodded the Phoenix toward the other, and glanced out tosee if the guardian Gryffons were looking. They were not.
"Now," he whispered.
The cave rocked with their uproar. David screamed at the top of his voice and kicked the walls. The Phoenix let out a series of ear-splitting whistles and squawks and beat its wings frantically. Echoes bounced from wall to wall. The two Gryffons came rushing into the cave, adding to the racket with their shrieking. "Now!" David shouted, and he flung the double handful of dust into the Gryffons' faces. Instantly they were all choking and sneezing in the thick cloud. He plunged between the legs of the two Gryffons, who in the confusion began to bite and tear savagely at each other.
David and the Phoenix burst out of the cave together. The other Gryffons, aroused by the noise, were bounding toward them. David flung himself on the Phoenix's back and shouted "Fly!" and sneezed. From somewhere behind him a set of talons snatched out and ripped through the back of his shirt. He kicked blindly and felt his foot crunch into something which shrieked. "Fly, Phoenix!" he sobbed. The Phoenix was already in the air and needed no encouragement. They heard raucous cries and the thunder of wings behind them. David looked back over his shoulder. The Gryffons were risingfrom the ground in pursuit, their legs drawn up under them and their wings beating. "Faster!" he screamed.
"You have seen nothing in the way of flying until now, my boy," the Phoenix shouted back. "Watch this!" Its wings were two blurs slicing through the air and roaring like kettledrums. The ground below streamed backwards. David looked back again. The Gryffons were falling into the distance. Their cries were getting fainter. Now they looked like a flock of starlings ... now like acluster of flies ... now like gnats. And then they had faded out of sight, and David and the Phoenix were streaking over the grassland alone.
Ten minutes later they reached a shore and landed. They flopped on the sand, panting. And David, suddenly feeling very faint, closed his eyes and put his head between his knees. After they had got their breath, the Phoenix patted David on the shoulder and said huskily:
"I congratulate you, my boy. Your plan was magnificent—precisely whatIshould have done, had I thought of it first. Needless to say, we shall not go on looking for the Gryffins. But now you know exactly what they are like: midway in size between the Gryffens and Gryffons, and reddish in color. Most amiable souls, willing to do anything for anyone. It is hard to believe that they are all related. But enough, my boy. Let us go home."
As soon as they reached the ledge, the Phoenix put David down and prepared to take off again.
"Where are you going, Phoenix?" David asked.
"Some business to attend to, my boy."
Muttering under its breath something that sounded like "tail feathers, indeed!" the Phoenix soared off. And David, stiff and sore and thoroughly tired, started down the mountainside for home.
5:In Which the ScientistArrives in Pursuitof the Phoenix, andThere Are Alarums andExcursions by Night
The lights downstairs were all on when David got home, and as soon as he opened the front door he could tell that they had company.
He shouted, "I'm home!" and sneezed. The dust from the Gryffons' cave still clung to him, tickling his nose.
"Well, here he is at last," said Dad's voice. "Comeon in, David." Then, as David walked into the living room, "Good heavens, Son, what's happened to you?"
"Yourback, David!" Mother said in a horrified voice. "Your poor back! Whathappenedto you?"
David felt himself. The back of his shirt was ripped to tatters, and there were three lines of caked blood across his shoulders. He remembered now: it was theGryffon that had tried to grab him as he and the Phoenix made their escape. But he had promised the Phoenix to keep its secret.
He stammered, "I—I had an accident."
"And dust alloveryou!" Mother went on.
"Well," said David desperately, "it was adustyaccident."
"It seems to have been very dusty indeed," said a third voice. There was a loud sneeze.
David's father jumped up. "You gave me such a shock when you came in that I almost forgot, David. We have a guest." And he introduced David to a very tall, thin man with a bald head. His face and neck were burnt red by the sun, and he had on a pair of thick glasses which made his pale eyes look immense. For some reason David took an instant dislike to him, but he shook hands politely and said, "How do you do?"
"David, eh?" said the man. "Well, well. Are you a good boy, David?"
Of all the stupid questions in the world, that was the one David hated most. He clenched his teeth and looked the other way.
"David, dear," said Mother with an awkward laugh, "I think you'd better go upstairs and wash and change."
When David came into the living room again, the guest was talking excitedly. "... completely unknown to man," he was saying. "It's the discovery of the age. My name will be famous if I succeed in my plans."
"How fascinating!" Mother said. "And to think of it happening right here!"
"And it's huge," the guest said, "simply huge. And brilliantly colored. For a scientist like myself, it's more than fascinating."
David was listening now. Scientist?Scientist!His heart missed a beat, and he choked. Oh, no, it couldn't betheScientist.Or could it?
"David here spends all his time up on the mountain," his father said. "Maybe he's seen it."
The guest turned his big, pale, unpleasant eyes on David. "Well, David," he said, "maybe you can help me. Now, have you seen anything unusual on the mountain?"
"Unusual?" said David unsteadily. There was a pain in his chest from the pounding of his heart.
"Yes, David," the guest went on, "unusual. So unusual that you couldn't miss it: a very large bird with bright plumage."
The floor under David seemed to rock. It was true, then—it was horribly true. This was the Scientist whohad been chasing the Phoenix. This was their enemy.
"Bird?" David dodged. "Wh-wh-why, there are lots of birds up there. Sparrows and meadow larks and—and sparrows...."
"But nothing like a huge bird with bright feathers?"
Well, he would have to tell a lie. After all, it was for the Phoenix's sake.
"No," said David.
"Ah," said the Scientist. But his cold eyes bored into David's for another instant, plainly saying, "I'm not fooled, young man."
"It's odd," he continued, "that no one has seen it. But I have no doubt it's somewhere here. I am going to begin my search as soon as my equipment gets here."
"Tell us about it," said Mother politely.
"Well, I discovered it on the other side of the valley, you know," said the Scientist eagerly. "Quite by accident—I was really looking for another species. Now, birds, you know, have fixed habits. If you know those habits, you can predict just what they will do at any time. This particular bird was a daytime creature, so I tried to watch it between dawn and dusk. But it seemed to have a mind of its own—you might almost say an intelligence. It avoided me in a very clever way, and itavoided my traps also. Uncanny! So after several weeks I decided to shoot it if I got the chance. Then suddenly it disappeared, but I'm certain it came over to this side of the valley—"
There was no escape from the subject during dinner. The Scientist could think and talk of nothing else. He described the merits of deadfalls, snares, steel traps, and birdlime. He asked which they thought would make the best bait, a rabbit, a beefsteak, a live lamb, or carrion. He told them all about the new high-powered, long-range rifle which he had ordered. And he vowed to them all that he would not rest until the bird was either caught or killed "for the advancement of human learning."
David listened with horror. The dinner before him went untouched. His only thought was that now he would have to warn the Phoenix as soon as possible. The Phoenix would go to South America after all, and his education would end before it had even started. All because of this hateful man! He fought to hold back his tears.
Dinner was over at last. David mumbled his excuses and ducked out of the dining room, but Aunt Amy seized him firmly just as he thought he had got away.
"Bedtime for you, David," she said firmly.
"Oh, Aunt Amy, please! I've got to—"
"Upstairs, young man. You've had enough gallivanting around for one day. You're all worn out."
"I'mnot!" said David, struggling. "I feel fine. Look, I justhaveto—"
It was useless. She marched him upstairs to his room and stood in the doorway until he had undressed and put on his pajamas and got into bed.
"Now," she said, "you go to sleep. The mountain will still be there in the morning—unless there's a landslide. Good night." And she turned out the light and shut the door.
This was awful! He could not sneak downstairs, because the stairs could be seen from the living room. He could not climb out of his window, because a rose arbor was directly beneath it, and he would be ripped by the thorns. And Mother always came in to say good night before she went to bed. If he was not there when she came in tonight, there would be a lot of unpleasant explaining to do. The only thing, then, was to wait until the Scientist went home and everyone was in bed.
It was a maddening wait. The Scientist's voice went on and on like the drone of an electric fan, interrupted only by an occasional murmur from Mother or Dad. For a while David sat in bed twisting the sheets in his hands;then he got up and paced the room in his bare feet. It seemed to him that three or four whole nighttimes had passed before he finally heard all three voices raised and talking at once.
The Scientist was going! Now they were saying good-by at the front door ... now the door was being closed ... now there were footsteps on the stairs. He jumped into bed just before Mother put her head in and said, "Good night, dear." David murmured, pretending to be half asleep. His door closed again. The light switches snapped, and there was silence.
He waited another half hour to make sure everyone was asleep. As quickly and silently as he could, he pulled on his clothes, crept out of his room, and slid cautiously down the bannister. In the back yard he put on his shoes, dived through the hedge, and started to race up the mountainside.
Fortunately there was a nearly-full moon and no clouds in the sky. But even with this light, it was not easy to keep to the trail. Several times he lost his way, so that the trip took much longer than usual. But he found the ledge at last, climbed over the final difficult rock, and sat down to catch his breath. When he could speak, he called softly:
"Phoenix!"
There was no answer.
"Phoenix!" He pushed through the thicket to the other side of the ledge. "Phoenix!"
The Phoenix was gone.
The tears that had been stopped up all evening could be held no longer. David dropped to the ground, leaned his forehead against a rock, and let them go. He had just remembered. As soon as they had come back from the Gryffon adventure, the Phoenix had flown off on some sort of business. And it had not said when it would return.
The tears cleared David's mind and made him feel better. Now what? He began to think. If he stayed on the ledge all night, they might find out at home and make a terrible fuss. But if he did not warn the Phoenix before morning, the Scientist might creep up while the bird was resting and trap it or shoot it. So he would have to warn the Phoenixandreturn home. And the only way to do both these things was to write the Phoenix a note.
But he had neither paper nor pencil.
A fine mess he had made of everything! Now he would have to go all the way back home, write the note, come all the way back up to the ledge, and then go home again.
David trudged down the mountainside in a very low mood. Now that he had a definite plan to work on, his fear was gone, but he felt that he had been pretty stupid to rush off without thinking of everything first. In his mind he could hear the Phoenix saying, "Look before you leap, my boy," and other wise words of advice. And he had cried, too. Lucky that no one had been there to seethat.
As he approached the house he was surprised to see all the lights ablaze and to hear his name being called. "Oh-oh," he thought, "they've found out I've gone."
"Here I am!" he shouted, opening the door. "What's the matter?"
It was a strange sight which met him inside. Dad, in his gray pajamas, was waving a revolver and making fierce noises. Mother, looking frightened, had a shoe in one hand. Aunt Amy, with her hair in rags, was also well-armed—with a big cast-iron frying pan. Beckie was howling upstairs.
"David!" Mother cried. "Are you all right? Where have you been? Did he hurt you?"
"Who?" said David. "I'm all right. What's the matter?"
"The burglar!" said Mother excitedly. "He put his head in the window and said 'pssssst!'"
"I tell you, burglars don't saypssssst!" Dad said. "They try to make as little noise as possible. Just let me catch him doing it again!" he added, waving his pistol.
"Running around on that mountain at all hours of the night," Aunt Amy grumbled, "with burglars and I don't know what-all loose in town!"
"And then we found that you were gone, and we thought he had stolen you," Mother went on. "Where have you been?"
"I couldn't sleep," said David. "So I went for a walk."
"Well, thank heavens you're safe," said Mother.
"Hankering after that mountain all night," Aunt Amy muttered. "As if he wasn't up there all day."
"Look here, Son," said Dad. "What do you know about this?"
"Honestly, Dad," said David, "I couldn't sleep. There's nothing wrong with that. I can't help it if I can't sleep. So I took a walk. There's nothing wrong with—"
"Oh, all right, all right," his father said. "I suppose it's just a coincidence. Let's all get back to sleep. And, David, the next time you can't sleep, try counting sheep."
Gradually the house calmed down. Beckie stopped wailing, Dad put away his gun, good nights were said, the lights were turned off.
David knew that it would be at least an hour before he dared to move again, and he would have to be doubly careful this time. And he was a little nervous himself now about that burglar. What if he should meet him when he went out again? He tried to forget about that by thinking of what he would put in the note for the Phoenix.
He had got as far as "Dear Phoenix:" and was wondering how you spelled "Phoenix," when there came a swish and a thump at his window, followed by a cautious whisper:
"Pssssst!"
David felt his scalp prickle. "Wh-wh-who's that?" he quavered.
"Is that you, my boy?" whispered a familiar, guarded voice. "Ah, thank heavens!"
And the Phoenix crawled through the window.
Weak with relief, David snapped on the bedside light. The Phoenix presented a shocking sight. Its face was drawn with fatigue, and it looked rather draggled. Its back sagged, its wings drooped to the floor, and it walked with a limp.
"Oh, Phoenix, Phoenix!" David whispered. He jumped to support the bird before it collapsed entirely.
"Ah, thank you, my boy," the Phoenix murmured. "Your bed, I presume? May I? Thank you." The springs creaked under its weight as the Phoenix gingerly lay down.
"What a night, my boy,whata night!" it sighed weakly, closing its eyes.
"Oh, Phoenix, what happened? Can I do anything for you?" David whispered.
"A damp, cooling cloth upon my forehead would be welcome, my boy," murmured the Phoenix. "Also a bit of nourishment."
David slid down the bannister, got a handful of cookies and a glass of milk, and dampened a dish towel. When he returned, the Phoenix was fast asleep.
"Phoenix," he whispered, "wake up. Here's your—"
The Phoenix awoke with a violent start and stared wildly around the room. "Trapped!" it muttered, making a frenzied effort to get off the bed.
"Not soloud!" David whispered sharply. "It's me!"
Understanding dawned in the Phoenix's eyes, and it eased itself back with a sigh. "Ah, you, my boy. You gave me quite a fright. I thought—" But here the Phoenix caught sight of the milk and cookies and sat up again.
"Ambrosia," it sighed reverently. "And nectar. Youarea prince, my dear fellow!" And the Phoenix reached out eagerly.
"Now, Phoenix," David whispered as he wrapped the wet towel around the Phoenix's head, "what's happened?"
"Ah, that feels heavenly, my boy! (Munch munch.) What has happened? (Munch munch. Gulp.) I was insulted, I accepted a challenge, and I brilliantly maintained my honor. Let that be a lesson to you, my boy: death before dishonor. Yes, in spite of my age, I—"
"But Phoenix, whathappened?"
"To be brief, then, my boy, for brevity is the soul of wit—although I am not trying to be witty now; I am simply too worn out—Brevity—ah—where was I?"
"Ithinkyou were telling me what happened to you tonight," David said.
"Ah, yes, quite so! Well, I raced the Witch, to put it quite simply."
"Oh, Phoenix! Did you win?"
"She said that she would 'beat my tail feathers off,' did she not? Behold, my dear fellow—every tail feather intact!"
"Good for you, Phoenix! How did it go?"
"I found her somewhere over Scotland and accepted her challenge. We jockeyed about for starting positions, and she insulted me by offering me a handicap—which, of course, I refused. For several hundred miles it was nip and tuck, as it were. Then, over Luxembourg, I put all my energies into a magnificent sprint and won the race by three and a half broom lengths. She claimed a foul and went off in a fit of sulks, of course. (I never saw a Witch who was a good loser.) And I—well, the fact is, my boy, that I am not as young as I used to be. I simplycrawledhome."
"Oh, you poor Phoenix! But you won, though.Good for you, Phoenix. I'm proud of you! I didn't like her at all."
"There you are—I had to win, for both of us. Now, as I wended my weary way homeward, I realized that I should be too tired to go traveling tomorrow. So I decided to tell you, in case you should want to do something else during the day. But I did not know which house was yours. I had to pick one at random. I thrust my head in a window and uttered a cautiouspssssst! Imagine my dismay when I was answered by a piercing scream! I had to beat a hasty and undignified retreat into a garage until all was peaceful again. Then I did the same thing at the next house, and the next, with the same results." The Phoenix sighed. "Would you believe it, my boy?—this is the fifth house I tried. But I knew I was on the right track when I heard them calling for you."
"Oh, so it wasyou," said David. "You almost frightened Mother to death. She thought you were a burglar."
"My dear fellow, I am really sorry for having caused any misunderstanding or fright," said the Phoenix apologetically. "It was just that I wanted to tell you of my victory—that is, to tell you that I should be indisposed tomorrow."
Then David recalled that he had something to saytoo. The shock of remembering was such that he blurted out the news without thinking of softening the blow.
"Phoenix, listen! The Scientist is here!"
The Phoenix sat up in bed with a jerk, and David barely suppressed its startled exclamation by clamping a hand over its beak.
"It's not so bad yet," he whispered hurriedly, "because he's not sure where you are, and he has to wait for his equipment to get here. But, oh, Phoenix, now I suppose you'll go to South America after all, and I won't have any more education."
The Phoenix leaped to its feet and struck a defiant pose. "My boy," it said angrily, "you are mistaken. I refuse to be chased around any longer. Even the lowly worm turns. Am I a mouse, or am I the Phoenix? If that insufferable man wishes to pursue me further, if he cannot mind his own business, then, by Jove, we shall meet him face to face and FIGHT TO THE FINISH!"
Its voice, which had been getting louder and louder, ended in an indignant squawk (its battle cry, as it explained later). David's warningssh!was too late. They heard rapid footsteps and the sound of light switches snapping.
"Quick!" David said. "Out the window!"
With a hasty "Farewell, my boy," the Phoenix plunged headlong toward the window—and tripped over the sill. There was a resounding crash outside as the bird landed on the rose arbor, a brief but furious thrashing and muttering, and then the receding flurry of wings.
Dad burst into the room with his revolver, followed by Mother and Aunt Amy (with two frying pans, this time).
"He stuck his head in the window and saidpssssst!at me!" David cried. "A big dark shape in the window!"
This time Dad telephoned the police. In no time at all, three carloads of weary policemen were swarming over the house and yard, with guns and flashlights drawn. It was the fifth—or was it the sixth?—call they had received from the neighborhood that night, they explained. There followed an hour of questions, arguments, and theories, during which everyone became very excited. Everyone, that is, except David—although he acted excited to avoid suspicion. But he was happy. He had warned the Phoenix, the Phoenix was going to stay, and there was nothing to worry about until tomorrow.
6:In Which the PhoenixHas a Plan, and Davidand the PhoenixCall On a Sea Monster