"And dust all _over_ you!" Mother went on.
"Well," said David desperately, "it was a _dusty_ accident."
"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 be _the_ Scientist. _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 who had 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 it avoided 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'm _not_!" said David, struggling. "I feel fine. Look, I just _have_
to--"
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
Phoenix _and_ return 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 see _that_.
* * * * *
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 say _pssssst_!" 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.
[Illustration]
"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, _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 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 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_
[Illustration]
"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 reassuringly. "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?"
"Aha!" said the Phoenix, with a mysterious smile. "All will unfold in
time. Rest assured that the Plan is brilliant. In one stroke of genius
it solves everything. Tactics, my boy! Napoleon had nothing on me."
"But what _is_ it, Phoenix?"
"Tut, my boy," said the Phoenix in a maddening way. "Control your
impatience. You will see. Now, we shall have to buy some things, so we
shall need money. Let me see.... Several of the Leprechauns have large
pots of gold.... No, I fear they would not part with so much as a
penny. Tightfisted, my dear fellow!--you never saw such misers.
Hmmm.... Well, there are the Dragons, of course; they guard heaps of
treasure in caves. But no--they are excellent chaps in most respects,
but frightfully stuffy about loans and gifts. No.... The Djinn? No,
his money is all tied up in Arabian oil speculation. Aha! Why didn't I
think of that before? The Sea Monster, of course!"
"Do Sea Monsters have money?" asked David.
"No, but the Sea Monster should know where pirate treasure is
buried--quite in its nautical line. We shall visit the Monster, my
boy. Tomorrow, of course--I could not fly a foot today to save my
life. My muscles are killing me!"
"Oh, poor Phoenix!" David said. But he was so excited that he could
not feel much pity. Pirate treasure! They were going to dig for pirate
treasure!
"We shall need a spade. I trust you will arrange for it, my boy?"
"Of course, Phoenix," said David, jumping to his feet. "I'll get
everything ready right away. Don't move till I get back."
"Impossible, my boy." The Phoenix groaned as it shifted into a more
comfortable position.
David raced home to collect the necessary things for the trip.
Remembering how cold it had been last time, he took his leather jacket
out of the closet, and a pair of gloves and a scarf. For the Phoenix
he borrowed a bottle of liniment and took all the cookies from the
cooky jar. And he picked the shortest of three spades in the garage.
During the rest of the day he massaged the Phoenix's back and wings
with the liniment. He was exploding with curiosity about the Plan, of
course. But the Phoenix would only smile its smuggest smile and tell
him to "wait and see, wait and see"--which almost drove David mad.
* * * * *
Tomorrow took its time, the way it always does when you are anxious to
see it arrive, but it finally came. And David found himself with the
spade held tightly under one arm, his jacket zipped up to his chin,
gloves on, and scarf knotted, all ready to go.
"To the west, this time," said the Phoenix, as David got up on its
back. "This is the Monster's Pacific season, you know. Ready, my boy?
Splendid! We are off!"
Over the mountains and desert they sped, over the shore, out across
the ocean. For a long time they hurtled through a huge blue
loneliness, dark blue below, lighter blue above. Once they passed over
a ship, a pencil dot trailing a pin-scratch of white. Another time
they startled a high-flying albatross, which gave a frightened squawk
and plunged down out of sight with folded wings. Aside from that,
there was nothing to see until they reached the islands.
The Phoenix slowed down to a glide and dropped lower. "These are the
coral atolls of the Pacific, my boy," it called over its shoulder.
"That lake in the center of each island is called the lagoon."
David was enchanted by the atolls. They were made of tiny islets,
strung together like the beads of a necklace. And the colors! The dark
blue of the sea became lighter around the islands, melting from
sapphire to turquoise to jade. The atolls were ringed with dazzling
white surf and beach, and they all had cool green swaths of palm trees
and underbrush. And each lagoon also had its varying shades of blue,
like the outer sea.
"I fear we may have trouble, my boy," said the Phoenix, as they
scanned the empty beaches. "The Monster shifts about from island to
island to avoid discovery. We shall just have to search."
And search they did, atoll after atoll, until at the end of an hour
they were rewarded. David suddenly spotted a dark object stretched out
on the beach of a lagoon, and at the same time the Phoenix said "Aha!"
triumphantly. They began to spiral down.
The Sea Monster was immense. Its body could have filled the living
room at home. Its neck was twenty feet long, and so was its tail
(which ended in a barbed point). It had huge seal-like flippers, and
its polished brown hide was made up of scales as big as dinner plates.
"Wake up, Monster!" The Phoenix cried. "We--"
The next instant they were lost in a cloud of flying sand and spray,
through which could be heard a prodigious splash. When it had cleared,
they found themselves alone on the beach. The only sign of the Sea
Monster was a great furrow in the sand, which led down to the agitated
water.
"Golly, that was fast!" David marveled, as they shook the sand from
themselves. "Do you think it'll come back, Phoenix?"
"Of course, my boy. Curiosity, if nothing else, will bring it up
again. In the meantime, we might as well sit down and wait."
They sat down and waited. David took off his jacket. For fifteen
minutes they heard nothing but the murmuring of the surf and the
rustling clatter of palm fronds. At last there was a slight splashing
noise from the lagoon.
"There," David whispered, pointing.
Thirty feet offshore, an ear was being thrust cautiously above the
rippled surface. It twitched once or twice, then pointed quiveringly
in their direction.
"Come out, Monster!" the Phoenix shouted. "It is I, the Phoenix."
The Sea Monster's head appeared slowly, followed by several yards of
neck. It peered at them short-sightedly, weaving its head from side to
side to get a better view. David saw that it had two short, straight
horns just in front of its ears, eyes that were soft and cowlike, and
a most expressive set of whiskers. The whiskers were now at a
doubtful, half-mast angle.
"Ah, Phoenix," said the Sea Monster at last in a mild voice. "Can't
you remember to wake me a bit more gently? I thought you were--"
"Come on out," said the Phoenix firmly, "and stop looking like a lost
sheep."
"Uh--what about--uh--that?" said the Sea Monster hesitantly, pointing
one ear at David.
"This," said the Phoenix, "is David. He is getting an education. I
assure you that he will not bite."
The Sea Monster swam toward them, heaved itself out of the water, and
offered its huge flipper for David to shake.
[Illustration]
"Sorry I rushed off like that," it said. "The trouble is, I've had
such a bad case of war nerves. Why, sometimes I jump out of my skin at
nothing at all."
"Were you in the war?" David asked.
"Ah, _was_ I," sighed the Sea Monster. It flopped down comfortably on
its belly, curled its tail around its front flippers, and sighed
again. But David noticed that its whiskers had perked up to a quite
cheerful angle. The Sea Monster was obviously delighted to have
someone listen to its troubles.
"Yes," it said, heaving a third sigh, "I was. From the very beginning,
much against my will. Guns all over the place! Terrible!"
"Did they shoot you?" David asked, horrified.
"Well, _at_ me, anyway. I'm thankful to say they never hit me, but
there were some pretty near misses. All the oceans were simply packed
with ships. I couldn't lift my head out of water without bringing down
a perfect rain of shells and bullets."
"The _intelligent_ thing in that case," the Phoenix broke in with a
sniff, "would have been to stay _under_ water."
"Thank you, Phoenix," said the Sea Monster dryly. "But I _do_ like to
breathe now and then. Anyway, I wasn't safe even under water. They'd
drop depth charges on me. One ship even launched a torpedo at me!"
"How awful!" said David.
"Tut! my boy," said the Phoenix. "I have no doubt our friend is
stretching the truth shamelessly. You need not look so smug, Monster.
You were not the only one in the war. _I_ have gone through
anti-aircraft fire a number of times. Some of it was very severe. In
fact, once I--"
"Once I had the whole North Atlantic fleet after _me_," the Sea
Monster interrupted proudly.
"And _I_ remember the Franco-Prussian War!" said the Phoenix. "Which,
I daresay, you do _not_."
"Well--uh--no, I don't."
"There you are!" the Phoenix crowed.
The Sea Monster, looking rather ruffled, pointedly turned from the
Phoenix and said to David, "What should you like to do, David?"
David suddenly remembered what they had come for, and the excitement
rushed back into his heart. He opened his mouth to cry "We want to dig
for treasure!" and then stopped short. Asking for money, he knew, was
an impolite thing to do--especially from someone you had only just
met. And there was no telling how the Sea Monster might feel about
people nosing around for its treasure. So he looked at the Phoenix and
waited for it to speak.
The Phoenix caught David's glance, cleared its throat several times,
and looked apologetically at the Sea Monster. "Monster, old chap," it
said soothingly, "I am deeply sorry for having doubted you just now.
Deeply sorry."
"Quite all right," said the Sea Monster stiffly.
"Yes," the Phoenix continued, "we both know that you have passed
through perilous times, through dangers which (I must confess) would
have left _me_ a shattered wreck."
The Sea Monster sighed sadly, but its whiskers were beginning to rise
again.
"The Monster bears up very well under this fearful strain--don't you
think so, my boy? A splendid example for the rest of us. Magnificent."
The Sea Monster's whiskers were quivering with pleasure.
"Monster, old chap, old friend, you were never one to let a boon
companion down. If I have said it once, I have said it a hundred
times: 'The Sea Monster,' I have said, 'the Sea Monster is the helpful
sort. Mention the words Staunch Friend,' I have said, 'and
immediately the Sea Monster comes to mind.'"
The Phoenix reached up one wing and began to pat the Sea Monster's
flipper.
"Monster, old chum, we--ah--we--Well, the plain fact is that
we--ah--we have need of--such a trifling matter" (here the Phoenix
gave a careless laugh) "that I should not really bring it up at all.
Ah--we need a bit of money."
"Oh," said the Sea Monster. Its whiskers sagged.
"Now, please do not be offended, Monster," said the Phoenix hastily.
"After all, you have no need for the treasure, and it does absolutely
no good buried under the ground."
"It doesn't do any harm there, either," said the Sea Monster. "Really,
Phoenix, I never thought _you_--"
"Monster," said the Phoenix solemnly, "_this_--is a matter of life or
death."
"Life or death--ha!"
"Please, Monster," said David. "It really is life or death, because
the Scientist is chasing the Phoenix, and the Phoenix has a plan to
escape him, and we need some money to carry out the plan so the
Scientist can't hurt the Phoenix."
"A few small coins will do," added the Phoenix, with a winning smile.
"A louis d'or, for example, or some pieces of eight. After which you
may bury the rest again."
"_Please_, Monster!" David begged.
The Monster looked at David, and at the Phoenix, and then at David
again, and then at the lagoon. It sighed a very doubtful sigh.
"Oh ... all right," it said reluctantly. "But for goodness sake, don't
go telling anyone where you found it."
"Of course not," said the Phoenix. And David leaped up and shouted
"Hooray!" and grabbed the spade and his jacket.
"The stuff is on the next island," said the Sea Monster. "I can swim
over with you two on my back. This way, please--we have to leave from
the outer beach."
The Sea Monster was a magnificent swimmer. Its neck cut through the
water like the stem of a Viking ship, and it left a frothing wake
behind. Every once in a while it would plunge its head into the water
and come up with a fish, which it would swallow whole.
"Should you like some breakfast, David?" said the Sea Monster.
[Illustration]
"No, thank you," David answered, "but you go right ahead. Phoenix," he
added, "what _are_ you doing?"
The Phoenix, which had been walking up and down with its wings clasped
behind its back, stopped and gazed over the sea. "Pacing the
quarter-deck, my boy. Scanning the horizon. That is what one usually
does at sea, I believe."
"You'll be wanting us to call you Admiral next," said the Sea Monster
acidly.
They steamed on. Twenty minutes and seventy-six large breakfast fish
later they sighted the island--a little smudge on the horizon, dead
ahead.
"Land ho!" a voice croaked. "Thank heavens."
David turned in surprise. The Phoenix was no longer pacing the
quarter-deck and scanning the horizon. It was sitting limply with its
head down and a glassy stare in its eyes.
[Illustration]
"You had better hurry up," David said to the Sea Monster. "I think the
Phoenix is seasick."
"Am not," the Phoenix gasped. "Merely (ulp!) temporary."
The Sea Monster turned and smiled sweetly at the Phoenix. "You'll get
used to it in no time, Admiral."
When they landed, however, the Phoenix recovered rapidly and even
began to put on a slight nautical swagger. The Sea Monster humped off
down the beach, followed eagerly by the two treasure hunters. In a few
minutes it came to a halt and sniffed the sand very carefully,
swinging its head snakelike to and fro. It settled on one spot,
sniffed it thoroughly, felt the sand with its whiskers, and then
solemnly announced: "Here."
"Ahoy, me hearties!" the Phoenix shouted. "Turn to and stand by to
splice the main brace! Steady as she goes, mates!"
David needed no encouragement from anyone. He began to dig furiously.
Flashing in the sun, the spade bit into the beach, and coarse white
sand spurted in all directions. The Phoenix was quite as excited as
David. It danced around the deepening hole with eyes asparkle,
shouting such piratical terms as "Shiver me timbers!" "Strike your
colors!" and "Give 'em no quarter, lads!" Suddenly it began to beat
time with its wing and to sing in a raucous voice:
"Cut the King's throat and take the King's gold--
Heave ho, bullies, for Panama!
There's plenty of loot for the lad who is bold--
Heave away, bullies, for Panama!"
"You're flat on that last note," said the Sea Monster.
"My dear Monster, I have perfect pitch!"
"Oh, yes--you have perfect sea legs, too."
"Well, ah--How are you coming along, my boy? Any signs of treasure?"
David did not hear. In fact he heard nothing from the first crunch of
the spade onward. His education was now richer by this fact: once you
start out after treasure, you can think of nothing else until it is
found. The sun was beating hotly on him, little rivulets of sweat
poured down his face and arms, his muscles ached, blisters were
beginning to form on his hands. Heedless of all, he dug on. He had
settled into the rhythm of it now, and nothing could distract him.
"Tell you what's a good thing for seasickness," said the Sea Monster
slyly. "You take a--" Pretending not to hear, the Phoenix stood first
on one leg and then on the other and stared into the sky. David dug
tirelessly.
Suddenly the spade grated on something solid, and they all jumped.
David shouted "Here it is!" and shoveled up sand frantically. The
Phoenix danced around the hole, also shouting. Even the Sea Monster
arched its neck to get a better view. They could see a brass ring,
crusted with verdigris, fastened to a partly-exposed piece of wood.
The sand flew. Now they could see studded strips of metal bound to the
wood, and a rusty padlock. And in a few minutes a whole chest, with
slanting sides and a curved lid and tarnished brass hinges, was
uncovered. David threw the spade on the beach, seized the brass
handle, and tugged. It came off in his hand.
[Illustration]
"Here, let me," said the Sea Monster. David got out of the hole, and
the Sea Monster worked one flipper carefully under the chest. "Look
out," it said, and heaved its flipper up. The chest shot into the air,
tumbled down end over end, and split wide open on the beach.
David gasped. A dazzling, sparkling heap spilled out on the sand.
There were heaps of gold and silver coins, the silver black with
tarnish but the gold still bright. There were pearls, rubies,
diamonds, beryls, emeralds, opals, sapphires, amethysts. And
bracelets, necklaces, pendants, sunbursts, brooches, rings, pins,
combs, buckles, lockets, buttons, crucifixes. And carved pieces of
jade and ivory and coral and jet. And coronets, crowns, tiaras, arm
bands. And jeweled daggers, picture frames, vases, silver knives and
forks and spoons, sugar bowls, platters, goblets.
For an hour they examined the treasure. David fairly wallowed in it,
exclaiming "Look at this one!" or "Oh, how beautiful!" or just
"Golly!" The Phoenix muttered such things as "King's ransom" and
"Wealth of the Indies." The Sea Monster was not interested in the
treasure, but kept glancing nervously out to sea.
At last the Phoenix said, "Well, my boy, I think we had better make
our choice. Three or four coins should do it."
The Sea Monster gave a relieved sigh. "Let's get the rest of it
underground right away. You have no idea what trouble it can cause."
The choice was difficult. There were so many coins, all of them with
queer writing and heads of unknown gods and kings. David finally
picked out four gold pieces and tied them up in his handkerchief.
Then the Sea Monster swept the rest of the treasure into the hole.
They all pushed sand in on top of it and jumped on the mound till it
was level with the rest of the beach.
The Phoenix turned to the Sea Monster and said solemnly: "Monster, old
fellow, I knew you would not fail us. You stood forth in our hour of
need, and we shall not forget."