David and the Phoenix Part 8

"What a night, my boy, _what_ a 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 gla.s.s 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 so _loud_!" 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. You _are_ a 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, what _happened_?"

"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?"

"I _think_ you 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 simply _crawled_ home."

"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 cautious _pssssst_! 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 was _you_," 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 say too. 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 warning _ssh!_ 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 said _pssssst!_ 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 Phoenix Has a Plan, and David and the Phoenix Call On a Sea Monster_

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Well, you're in all the papers this morning, Phoenix," said David, as he sat down beside the reclining bird next morning. "They don't know who you are, but they're all talking about what happened last night.

They call you the 'Whispering Burglar.' The police are pretty worried."

"My dear chap," said the Phoenix apologetically, "let me repeat my sincere regrets for causing alarm. It was not my desire to--the _police_, did you say? Have they discovered any clues?"

"No," said David rea.s.suringly. "They can't find a thing. They think the Whispering Burglar climbed up a ladder to say _pssssst!_ into the upstairs windows. Only they can't find the ladder. They call it the 'Missing Mystery Clue.'"

The Phoenix gazed at the sky and mused. "In all the papers, you say?

Well, Fame at last--although hardly the kind I had expected. What a pity that there can be no photographs with the story. Imagine a picture of me on the front page! A profile, perhaps--or would a full-length shot be more effective? Or both, let us say, with--"

"I know you'd look very handsome, Phoenix," David interrupted, "but what we _should_ be thinking about is the Scientist. What are we going to do?"

"Oh, _that_," said the Phoenix. "I was coming to that, my boy. The battle is already half won. I have a Plan."

"Good for you, Phoenix! What is it?"