10: _In Which a Five Hundredth Birthday Is Celebrated, and the PhoenixBows to Tradition_
"That's funny," said David, rubbing his eyes and looking around in apuzzled way. "Where are we, Phoenix?"
"'Home is the sailor, home from the hill,'" the Phoenix said, "'Andthe hunter home from the sea.' Or is it the other way around? At anyrate, we are home, my boy."
And so they were.
"Weren't we playing with a Faun just now?"
"Quite so."
"But there was something else," David said. "Something ... Didn'tsomebody say, 'Follow, before it is too late,' or something like that?_Did_ we follow?--I can't remember."
"No, my boy. By the time one hears that, it is already too late."
"Oh." Too late for what? he wondered. Oh, well ... He sighed, and fellto daydreaming.
A cough from the Phoenix brought him back.
"Beg your pardon?"
"I have never seen you so thoughtful, my boy. However, I believe Iknow what you are thinking about. It _is_ a difficult problem, is itnot?"
"Yes, I was just--"
"--thinking what you could get me for a birthday present," interruptedthe Phoenix. "Am I not correct?"
David, who had not even given this a thought until now, flushed.
"Aha!" said the Phoenix triumphantly. "Just as I thought! Believe me,my dear fellow, when you have been around as long as _I_ have, you canread the minds of your friends as easily as a book. Now, the problemof what to give is a hard one at any time, but the problem of what togive for a five hundredth birthday is even harder. A monogrammed ashtray? I do not receive cigars often enough to make that practical. Ahand-knitted sweater? It would not fit (they never do). A gold-platedwatch chain? I have no watch. No, the best idea would be to get mesomething which I can use."
"Certainly, Phoenix," David stammered. "What _do_ you want, then?"
"Ah! We have reached the kernel of the problem. And the answer, myboy, is this: cinnamon."
"Cinnamon?"
"Precisely. Also a box of matches--the kind that strike anywhere, youknow."
"Well--all right. It doesn't sound like much of a present, but ifthat's what you really want.... What are you going to do with them,Phoenix? I mean, if you don't mind my asking."
"The plain fact is, my boy," said the Phoenix doubtfully, "the plainfact is--well, I do not know. Odd! But something tells me I shall needthem. Well, it will come to me in the morning, no doubt. And then, ofcourse, I shall be very glad to have them on hand."
"All right, cinnamon and matches, then. And I'll get some--no, I won'ttell you _that_. It'll be a surprise."
"A surprise? Splendid, my boy! You could not, I suppose, drop me asmall hint? No? But of course not--one hint and my powerful Intellectcould guess everything--and then the surprise would be spoiled. Well,until tomorrow, then!"
* * * * *
That evening David shut himself in his room and robbed his bank. Itwas a squat, cast-iron box, with "A Penny Saved Is A Penny Earned" inraised letters on one side. The only way to open it was to smash itwith a crowbar, but it could be emptied. It had to be tilted just so,with a knife blade in the slot to catch the coins and guide them out.This is what David did, with a bread knife borrowed from the kitchen.It was a slow, uncertain job, and one coin (he guessed it was a dimeby the way it rattled) never did come out. But the rest, whichincluded his change from Uncle Charles's present, would be enough.
Early next morning he went to the store and bought three large boxesof stick cinnamon, two cans of powdered cinnamon, and a huge box ofmatches. For the surprise he got a whole quart of strawberry icecream, with a piece of dry ice to keep it from melting. He wanted tobuy a cake, too, and candles, but there was not enough money left.Then he remembered that a new batch of cookies had been baked at homeyesterday, which would have to do instead. He wrapped the cinnamon andmatches up in a neat package with white paper, tied it in a blueribbon, and wrote on it "To Feenix, Happy 500 Birthday, from David."Then he took all the cookies from the jar, borrowed two plates andspoons, put everything into a large paper bag, and set out for thePhoenix's ledge.
He was surprised to find the Phoenix working busily in the middle of awide place on the ledge. Apparently the bird had been at it all night,for a huge pile of sticks and brush had been heaped up on the groundand shaped roughly like a nest. Right now the Phoenix was strugglingwith a small log, trying to get it on the pile.
"Hello, Phoenix! Happy birthday!"
"Ah, there, my boy! Thank you very much. Could you kindly give me ahand with this log?"
They heaved and grunted the piece of wood to the top of the pile, andDavid said, "What's this for, Phoenix?"
"This, my boy, is a pyre. A bit untidy around the edges, butnonetheless a pyre."
"Oh," said David. "What's that?"
"Well--a _pyre_, you know--a sort of fire, as it were."
"Oh, _fire_. I thought you said--oh, yes. Fire. Isn't it awfully_warm_ for a fire?"
"The weather _is_ unusually tropical," said the Phoenix, cocking oneeye toward the sun. "This fire, however, is necessary--but I shallexplain later. Meanwhile, if you will just aid me with this branch--"And for the next fifteen minutes they worked over the heap, adding toit and shaping it up. David kept his thoughts to himself. He could seethat the Phoenix knew what it was doing, so everything must be allright.
"By the way, my boy," said the Phoenix casually, when they hadfinished, "my prediction was correct. I knew it would be. Theinevitable has occurred."
"What are you talking about, Phoenix?"
"The Scientist, my boy. He is in our midst once more."
David clutched a branch in the heap and said "Oh, Phoenix!" in afrightened voice.
"Now, my dear fellow, there is no cause for alarm. He is not nearby atpresent. I sent him back."
"Sent him back? How?"
"Nothing to it, my boy," said the Phoenix smugly. "He was up at thecrack of dawn, toiling with typical stupidity in full sight on theslope below. He was making a blind of green branches to hide in whilehe spies on me. (Really, the childishness of his efforts! To think fora minute he could fool _me_ with such tricks!) Well, I waited until hehad gone down the slope to cut more greenery, and when his back wasturned, I slipped down to the blind and took his binoculars."
"But Phoenix, what did you want with his binoculars?"
"I did not want his binoculars, my boy, but _he_ did. His languagewhen he discovered the loss was simply frightful--I could hear it allthe way up here. Of course, he had to return to town for anotherpair."
"But he'll be back!"
"Precisely, my boy. But he will have something to keep him busy whenhe returns. I took the liberty of destroying his blind. _That_ willhold him."
"But it won't hold him long, Phoenix! We've got to think of somethingelse. Now your whole birthday is spoiled!"
"On the contrary, my boy, it will hold him long enough. Now please donot ask me why; you must take my word for it, and I shall explainlater. And my birthday is _not_ spoiled. I am looking forward with agreat deal of pleasure to the surprise which you promised me. Come,let us enjoy it, whatever it is, and forget the Scientist."
"Well ... are you _sure_ about the Scientist?"
"Absolutely."
The Phoenix was so positive that David began to feel better. He pickedup the paper bag and said: "Well, it isn't much of a surprise,really--just a birthday party. And your present. But I think thepresent should come after the party, don't you?"
"Quite so, my boy. But I shall leave the management of the wholeaffair in your capable hands."
"All right," said David. "Now, you'll have to turn around, Phoenix,and not look while I'm getting it ready."
The Phoenix obediently turned around, clasping its wings behind itsback, and tried hard not to peek. David set the party things out onthe grass: ice cream in the middle, the cookies in a ring around it,plates on either side, and spoons beside the plates. He set thePhoenix's present off to one si
de, where it could be reached when theyhad finished.
"All right, Phoenix, you can turn around now."
The Phoenix took a long look at everything, and said huskily: "My dearchap, this is quite the nicest moment of my life. How can I possiblythank you?"
They sat down in their places. David passed the cookies and served the icecream, and said that as far as he was concerned, this was the best birthdayparty he had ever been to. And the Phoenix said, "Quite so, my boy, butmight I make so bold as to ask why?" And David answered, "Well, the reasonis that usually during birthday parties you have to play stupid games, likepin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and button-button-who-has-the-button, in spiteof the fact that eating good things is the real reason for having a party,as everybody knows." And the Phoenix said, "Precisely, my boy, but peoplehave somehow lost the main idea of the thing. When you come right down toit, ice cream is the basis of any sensible party, and everything else is awaste of time." And David said, "Yes, Phoenix, but don't forget cake andcookies, and candy and nuts and things. They're not as good as ice cream,but they're not a complete waste of time, either." And the Phoenix said,"Of course not, my dear fellow, they are important too. And speaking of icecream, have you noticed that, while chocolate is very good, and vanillaenjoys great popularity, still there is _nothing_ like strawberry?" AndDavid said, "Yes, you're right"--rather sadly, because the Phoenix waseating most of it.
At last the ice cream carton was empty and all the cookies were gone.They both sighed regretfully and brushed away the crumbs. And thePhoenix looked hopefully at the present David had brought.
"Happy birthday, Phoenix," David said, and he handed the gift overwith a little bow.
"Thank you, my boy, thank you." The Phoenix opened the package eagerlyand gave a pleased cry. "_Just_ what I wanted, my dear chap!"
"I'm glad you like it," David said. "Do you know yet what it's for?Can you really use it for something?"
The Phoenix suddenly stopped smiling and looked at David with astrange expression on its face--an expression David had never seenthere before. A vague dread swept through him, and he faltered,"Phoenix ... you _do_ know what it's for? What is it? Tell me."
"Well, my boy--well, the fact _is_--yes, I do know. It came to me thismorning while I was constructing the--ah--nest, here. I am afraid itwill be a bit hard to explain. The cinnamon--ah--the cinnamon--well,cinnamon _branches_ are what I should really have...."
"But Phoenix, what's it _for_?"
"Behold, my boy." The Phoenix opened the boxes, and spread thecinnamon sticks on the nest. Then it took the cans and sprinkled thecinnamon powder over the top and sides of the heap, until the wholenest was a brick-dust red.
"There we are, my boy," said the Phoenix sadly. "The traditionalcinnamon pyre of the Phoenix, celebrated in song and story."
And with the third mention of the word "pyre," David's legs went weakand something seemed to catch in his throat. He remembered now wherehe had heard that word before. It was in his book of explorers, and itmeant--it meant--
"Phoenix," he choked, "wh-wh-who is the pyre for?"
"For myself," said the Phoenix.
"_Phoenix!_"
"Now, I implore you--please--oh, dear, I _knew_ it would be difficultto explain. Look at me, my boy."
David did as he was told, although his eyes were filled with tears andhe could not see through the blur.
"Now," said the Phoenix gently, "the fact is that I have, besides myunusually acute Intellect, an Instinct. This Instinct told me that itwas my birthday today. It also told me to build this nest of cinnamon.Now it tells me that I must make this nest my pyre, because that iswhat the Phoenix does at the end of five hundred years. Now, please,my boy!--I admit it does not appear to be a very joyful way ofcelebrating, but it must be done. This is the traditional end of thePhoenix, my boy, and we cannot ignore the tradition, no matter whatour feelings may be. Do you see?"
"No!" David cried. "Please, Phoenix, don't do it! It's horrible! Iwon't let you do it!"
"But I must, my dear chap! I cannot help it. This is what it means tobe the Phoenix. Nothing can stop the tradition. Please, my boy, do nottake on so! It is not in the least horrible, I assure you. My Instincttells me so."
"You said you were going to give me an education," David sobbed. "Yousaid we would see--you said--and we've only been on fouradventures--you never told me about this--"
"I am terribly sorry, my boy. I could not tell you about it because Idid not _know_ about it until now. As for your education, it is a pityto have it cut short in this way. I had great plans.... Butconsider--you have had four adventures which no one else in the wholeworld has had! And besides, my boy, we shall see each other again. Ido not know how or where, but I am positive of it." The Phoenixflicked a tear from its eye with the tip of one wing, while with theother it patted David awkwardly on the shoulder.
"Don't go, Phoenix, _please_ don't go."
"I must, my boy. Here, permit me to present you with a small token(ouch!) of our friendship."
Dimly, through his tears, David saw the Phoenix pluck the longest,bluest feather from its tail, and he felt it being pressed into hishand.
"Good-by, David," said the Phoenix gruffly.
David could stand it no longer. He turned and rushed blindly from thePhoenix, blundered into the thicket, and dropped to the ground withhis head buried in his arms. Behind him he heard the sticks snappingas the Phoenix mounted its pyre. A match rasped against the box. Thefirst tongue of flame sizzled in the branches. David pressed his handsover his ears to shut out the sound, but he could feel the heat of theflames as they sprang up. And the noise would not be shut out. It grewand grew, popping, crackling, roaring, until it seemed to fill theworld....
* * * * *
Perhaps he fainted. Or perhaps from numbness he slipped into a kind ofdeep sleep. Whichever it was, he returned to consciousness againsuddenly. His hands had slipped from his ears, and a sound had broughthim back. He lifted his head and listened. The fire had burnt itselfout now. The only noise was the hiss and pop of dying embers. Butthese sounds were too gentle to have awakened him--it must have beensomething else. Yes--it was a voice. He could hear it quite plainlynow. There were angry shouts coming from somewhere below the ledge.
Carefully avoiding the sight of the pyre, David crawled to the edgeand glanced over. Far down, on the slope at the foot of the scarp, wasa tiny figure dancing and bellowing with rage. The Scientist hadreturned and discovered the ruins of his blind. David watched himdully. No need to worry about _him_ any more. How harmless he lookednow, even ridiculous! David turned away.
He noticed then that he was holding something in his hand, somethingsoft and heavy. As he lifted it to look more closely, it flashed inthe sunlight. It was the feather the Phoenix had given him, the tailfeather. Tail feather?... But the Phoenix's tail had been a sapphireblue. The feather in his hand was of the purest, palest gold.
There was a slight stir behind him. In spite of himself, he glanced atthe remains of the pyre. His mouth dropped open. In the middle of thewhite ashes and glowing coals there was movement. Something within wasstruggling up toward the top. The noises grew stronger and moredefinite. Charred sticks were being snapped, ashes kicked aside,embers pushed out of the way. Now, like a plant thrusting its way outof the soil, there appeared something pale and glittering, whichnodded in the breeze. Little tongues of flame, it seemed, licking outinto the air.... No, not flames! A crest of golden feathers!... Aheave from below lifted the ashes in the center of the pile, a finecloud of flakes swirled up into the breeze, there was a flash ofsunlight glinting on brilliant plumage. And from the ruins of the pyrestepped forth a magnificent bird.
It was the Phoenix, it must be the Phoenix! But it was a new anddifferent Phoenix. It was young and wild, with a fierce amber eye; itscrest was tall and proud, its body the slim, muscular body of ahunter, its wings narrow and long and pointed like a falcon's, thegreat beak and talons razor-sharp and curving. And all of it, fromcrest
to talons, was a burnished gold that reflected the sun in athousand dazzling lights.
The bird stretched its wings, shook the ash from its tail, and beganto preen itself. Every movement was like the flash of a silentexplosion.
"Phoenix," David whispered. "Phoenix."
The bird started, turned toward him, looked at him for an instant withwild, fearless eyes, then continued its preening. Suddenly it stoppedand cocked its head as if listening to something. Then David heard ittoo: a shout down the mountainside, louder and clearer now, excitedand jubilant. He shivered and looked down. The Scientist was tearingup the goat trail as fast as his long legs would carry him--and he waswaving a rifle.
"Phoenix!" David cried. "Fly! Fly, Phoenix!"
The bird looked at the Scientist, then at David, its glance curiousbut without understanding. Paralyzed with fear, David remained on hisknees as the Scientist reached an open place and threw the gun up tohis shoulder. The bullet went whining by with an ugly hornet-noise,and the report of the gun echoed along the scarp.
"Fly, Phoenix!" David sobbed. A second bullet snarled at the bird, andspattered out little chips of rock from the inner wall of the ledge.
"Oh, fly, fly!" David jumped up and flung himself between the birdand the Scientist. "It's me!" he cried. "It's David!" The bird gazedat him closely, and a light flickered in its eye as though the namehad reached out and almost, but not quite, touched an ancient memory.Hesitantly it stretched forth one wing, and with the tip of it lightlybrushed David's forehead, leaving there a mark that burned coolly.
"_Get away from that bird, you little idiot!_" the Scientist shrieked."_GET AWAY!_"
David ignored him. "Fly, Phoenix!" he cried, and he pushed the birdtoward the edge.
Understanding dawned in the amber eyes at last. The bird, with oneclear, defiant cry, leaped to an out-jutting boulder. The golden wingsspread, the golden neck curved back, the golden talons pushed againstthe rock. The bird launched itself into the air and soared out overthe valley, sparkling, flashing, shimmering; a flame, large as asunburst, a meteor, a diamond, a star, diminishing at last to a speckof gold dust, which glimmered twice in the distance before it was gonealtogether.
* * * * *
_The Author_
Edward Ormondroyd
When Edward Ormondroyd was about thirteen, his family moved fromPennsylvania to Ann Arbor, Michigan. He and a friend began to readArthur Ransome's boating stories and, inspired by the adventures ofthe Swallows, built their own fourteen-foot sailboat and tried tore-create that English magic on the Huron River.
In 1943 he graduated from high school and joined the Navy. DestroyerEscort 419 was his home for the next two years. "When the war wasover, she looked in on China and Korea, and came home. She did show meSan Francisco Bay at dusk. One look convinced me that I would like tolive by it; and I have, ever since."
After the war, Mr. Ormondroyd went to the University of California atBerkeley. He graduated in 1951, and since then has been busy writing,sailing as able seaman aboard a tanker, and working as a bookstoreclerk and machine tender. He lives in Berkeley, California. He ismarried and has one son.
It was while Mr. Ormondroyd was at college that David and the Phoenixfirst intruded into his consciousness. "_One day, when I was walkingacross campus, I had a sudden vision of a large and pompous birddiving out of a window, tripping on the sill, and falling into a rosearbor below. I had to explain to myself why the poor bird was in sucha situation in the first place, and what became of it afterwards. Theresult of my investigation was_ DAVID AND THE PHOENIX."
* * * * *
David and
the Phoenix
Edward Ormondroyd
_Illustrated by Joan Raysor_
David knew that one should be prepared for anything when one climbs amountain, but he never dreamed what he would find that June morning onthe mountain ledge.
There stood an enormous bird, with a head like an eagle, a neck like aswan, and a scarlet crest. The most astonishing thing was that thebird had an open book on the ground and was reading from it!
This was David's first sight of the fabulous Phoenix and the beginningof a pleasant and profitable partnership. The Phoenix found a greatdeal lacking in David's education--he flunked questions like "How doyou tell a true from a false Unicorn?"--and undertook to supplement itwith a practical education, an education that would be a preparationfor Life. The education had to be combined with offensive anddefensive measures against a Scientist who was bent on capturing thePhoenix, but the two projects together involved exciting and hilariousadventures for boy and bird.
A wonderful read-aloud book, adventurous and very funny, with much ofthe magic as well as the humor of the fantastic.
_Follett Publishing Company_
_New York_ CHICAGO _Toronto_
* * * * *
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