There was a thrashing sound in the thicket, and the Phoenix appeared,
looking very rumpled and yawning behind its wing.
"Greetings, my boy!" it cried. "A splendid morning!" Then the Phoenix
caught sight of the paper bag in David's hand, and swallowed in a
suggestive way.
David thrust the bag of cookies behind his back. "Now, Phoenix," he
said firmly, "you have to promise me you won't go away to South
America. You said last night that it could be arranged, so let's
arrange it right now. Until we do, not one."
The Phoenix drew itself up indignantly. "My very dear fellow," it
said, "you wound me. You cut me to the quick. I will not be bribed.
I--" It stopped and swallowed again. "Oh, well," it continued, more
mildly, "one does not fight fate, does one? I suppose under these
circumstances, I must accept."
"It's settled, then!" David cried joyfully.
So they sat down on the grass together, and for a long time nothing
was heard but sounds of munching.
"My boy," said the Phoenix at last, brushing the crumbs from its
chest, "I take a modest pride in my way with words, but nothing in the
language can do these--ah--baked poems justice. Words fail me."
"I'm glad you like them," David said politely.
"And now, my boy," continued the Phoenix, as it settled back
comfortably, "I have been thinking. Yesterday you showed an
intelligent interest in my problems and asked intelligent questions.
You did not scoff, as others might have done. You have very rare
qualities."
David flushed, and mumbled denials.
"Do not be so modest, my boy! I speak the truth. It came to me that
such a mind as yours, having these qualities, should be further
cultivated and refined. And I should be avoiding my clear-cut duty if
I did not take this task in hand myself. Of course, I suppose some
attempt to educate you has already been made, has it not?"
"Well, I go to school, if that's what you mean. Not now, though,
because it's summer vacation."
"And what do they teach you there?"
"Oh, reading and writing and arithmetic, and things like that."
"Aha!" said the Phoenix triumphantly. "Just as I suspected--a
classical education. Understand me--I have nothing against a
classical education as such. I realize that mathematics, Greek, and
Latin are excellent for the discipline of the mind. But in the broad
view, a classical education is not a true education. Life is real,
life is earnest. One must face it with a _practical_ education. The
problems of Life, my dear fellow!--classical education completely
ignores them! For example, how do you tell a true Unicorn from a false
one?"
"I--I don't know."
"I thought not. Where do you find the Philosopher's Stone?"
"I don't know."
"Well, then, I shall ask a simple one. What is the first rule of
defense when attacked by a Chimera?"
David squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm afraid I don't know that, either,"
he said in a small voice.
"There you are!" cried the Phoenix. "You do not have a true, practical
education--you are not ready for Life. I, my boy, am going to take
your education in hand."
"Oh," said David. "Do you mean--are you going to give me--lessons?"
Through his mind flashed a picture of the Phoenix (with spectacles on
its beak and a ruler in its wing) writing out sentences on a
blackboard. The thought gave him a sinking feeling. After all, it was
summer--and summer was supposed to be vacation time.
"And what an education it will be!" the Phoenix went on, ignoring his
question. "Absolutely without equal! The full benefit of my vast
knowledge, plus a number of trips to--"
"Oh, _traveling_!" said David, suddenly feeling much better. "That's
different. Oh, Phoenix, that'll be wonderful! Where will we go?"
"Everywhere, my boy!" said the Phoenix, with an airy wave of its wing.
"To all corners of the earth. We shall visit my friends and
acquaintances."
"Oh, do you have--"
"Of course, my boy! I am nothing if not a good mixer. My acquaintances
(to mention but a few) include Fauns, Dragons, Unicorns, Trolls,
Gryffins, Gryffons, Gryffens--"
"Excuse me," David interrupted. "What were those last three, please?"
"Gryffins," explained the Phoenix, "are the small, reddish, friendly
ones. Gryffons are the quick-tempered proud ones. Gryffens--ah, well,
the most anyone can say for them is that they are harmless. They are
very stupid."
"I see," said David doubtfully. "What do they look like?"
"Each looks like the others, my boy, except that some are bigger and
some are smaller. But to continue: Sea Monsters, Leprechauns, Rocs,
Gnomes, Elves, Basilisks, Nymphs--ah--and many others. All are of the
Better Sort, since, as I have many times truly observed, one is known
by the company one keeps. And your education will cost you nothing. Of
course it _would_ be agreeable if you could supply me with cookies
from time to time."
"As many as you want, Phoenix. Will we go to Africa?"
"Naturally, my boy. Your education will include--"
"And Egypt? And China? And Arabia?"
"Yes. Your education will--"
"Oh, Phoenix, Phoenix!" David jumped up and began to caper, while the
Phoenix beamed. But suddenly he stopped.
"How are we going to travel, Phoenix?"
"I have wings, my boy."
"Yes, but I don't."
"Do not be so dense, my dear fellow. I shall carry you on my back, of
course."
"Oh," said David weakly, "on your--on your back. Are you sure
that--isn't there some other--I mean, can you do it?"
The Phoenix drew itself up to its full height. "I am hurt--yes, deeply
hurt--by your lack of faith. My magnificent build should make it
evident that I am an exceedingly powerful flyer. In the heyday of my
youth I could fly around the world in five hours. But come along. I
shall give you proof positive."
David reluctantly followed the Phoenix to a spot on the edge of the
shelf where there was a gap in the bushes. He glanced over the brink.
The sheer face of the scarp fell away beneath them, plunging down to
the tiny trees and rocks below. He stepped back quickly with a
shudder.
"Let's--let's do it tomorrow," he quavered.
"Nonsense," said the Phoenix firmly. "No time like the present. Now,
then, up on my back."
"H-h-how am I going to sit?"
"On my back. Quite so--now, your arms around my neck--your legs
_behind_ my wings, please--there we are. Ready?"
"No," said David faintly.
"Splendid! The proof is to be demonstrated, the--to be brief, we are
off!"
The great wings were outstretched. David gulped, clutched the
Phoenix's neck tightly, and shut his eyes. He felt a hopping
sensation, then a long, sickening downward swoop that seemed to leave
his stomach far behind. A tremendous rush of air snatched at his
shirt. He opened his eyes and choked with fright. The ground below was
rushing up to meet them, swaying and revolving. Something was terribly
wrong. The Phoenix was breathing in hoarse gasps; its wings were
pounding the air frantically. Now they had turned back. The scarp
loomed before them, solid and blank. Above them--high above them--was
the ledge. It looked as though they would not get back to it.
Up ... up ... up.... They crawled through the air. The wings flapped
wildly, faster and faster. They were gaining--slipping back--gaining
again. The Phoenix sobbed as it stretched its neck in the last effort.
Fifty feet ... twenty feet ... ten.... With a tremendous surge of its
wings, the Phoenix managed to get one claw over the edge and to seize
the branch of a bush in its beak. David's legs slipped from the bird's
back. He dangled over the abyss from the outstretched neck, and
prayed. The bush saved them. They scrabbled up over the edge, tottered
there for an instant, and dropped on the grass.
For a long time they lay gasping and trembling.
At last the Phoenix weakly raised its head. "Puff--well, my boy--puff
puff--whew!--very narrow squeak. I--puff--"
[Illustration]
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--could have 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 if _he_ could 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 the Phoenix Go To Visit the Gryffins, and a
Great Danger Is Narrowly Averted_
[Illustration]
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, the thing 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 in
_ever_ so long."
[Illustration]
"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. "_We_ are
making good use of our time, and I suggest that _you_ do 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 for _you_!" 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 with dry, 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 could not 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's _try_ it, 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.