Chapter II: Part 2

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 rising from 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 a cluster 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 what _I_ should 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 Scientist Arrives in Pursuit of the Phoenix, and There Are Alarums and Excursions 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. "Come on in, David." Then, as David walked into the living room, "Good heavens, Son, what's happened to you?"

"Your _back_, David!" Mother said in a horrified voice. "Your poor back! What _happened_ to 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 the Gryffon 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 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.

"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_

"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.

"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.

"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.

"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.

"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."

And David echoed, "Thank you, Monster."

The Sea Monster ducked its head and blushed. A wave of fiery red started at its nose, traveled rapidly back over its ears, down its neck, along the body, and fanned out to the tips of its flippers and the extreme end of the barb in its tail.

Even its whiskers turned pink.

"Well--uh--glad to help--uh--nothing to it, really," it mumbled. Then it turned abruptly, galloped down to the sea, plunged into the surf, and was gone.

7: _In Which the Phoenix's Plan Is Carried Out, and There Are More Alarums and Excursions in the Night_

"Now, my boy," said the Phoenix, when they got back to the ledge that afternoon, "are the shops still open?"

"I think they're open till six," said David, shaking the sand out of his shoes. "Are we going to buy something?"

"Precisely, my boy. A hardware store should have what we need. Now, you will take our gold and purchase the following." And the Phoenix listed the things it wanted, and told David which to bring to the ledge and which to leave below.

"... and a hatchet," the Phoenix concluded.

"We have one at home already," said David. "Now, listen, Phoenix, _can't_ you tell me what all this is for? What are we going to do with it?"

"My boy, the feline's existence was terminated as a direct result of its inquisitiveness."

"What did you say?"

"Curiosity killed the cat," explained the Phoenix.

"Oh. But--"

"Now, run along, my boy. A very important Thought has just come to me. I must Meditate a while." The Phoenix glanced at the thicket and hid a yawn behind one wing.

"Oh, all _right_," said David. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

It wasn't until he got home that he thought of something. He couldn't spend pirate gold pieces, or even show them to anyone, without being asked a lot of embarrassing questions. What to do? Ask Dad or Mother or Aunt Amy to lend him some money? More embarrassing questions.... Well, he would have to rob his bank. But wait--why hadn't he remembered? Just before they had moved, Uncle Charles had given him a ten-dollar bill as a farewell present. He had been saving it for a model airplane, but the excitement of the last few days had driven it completely out of his mind. Of course the Phoenix's Plan was more important than any model plane could be.

So he kept the gold pieces tied up in his handkerchief and took his ten dollars to a hardware store, where he bought what the Phoenix wanted--a coil of rope, an electric door bell, a pushbutton, and one hundred feet of insulated wire. Then he brought the package home, hid it behind the woodpile in the garage, and sat down to think. Wire--bell--pushbutton. What could the Phoenix possibly want with them? And what was the rope for? And the hatchet? The more he puzzled over it the more confused he became, and finally he just gave up. There was only one thing he was sure about: whatever the Plan was, they would have to carry it out as soon as possible. Two days had passed since the Scientist had shown up. The new gun he had ordered might arrive at any time now. Perhaps even today, when they had been digging up the pirate treasure, the Scientist had got his new rifle and had started to hunt through the mountains.

The thought gave David a creepy feeling on the back of his neck. They certainly would have to hurry.

* * * * *

Early next morning David climbed up to the ledge, bringing with him the coil of rope and the hatchet. As an afterthought he had added a paper bag full of cookies.

"Here's the stuff, Phoenix," he called out as he stepped onto the ledge. "Where are you?"

There was a crash from the thicket as though someone had jumped up in it suddenly, and the Phoenix stumbled out, rubbing its eyes.

"Ah, splendid, my boy! Yes. I was just--ah--Thinking."

"Phoenix," said David, "I'm not going to ask you again what your Plan is, because I know you'll tell me when it's time. But whatever it is, we'd better do it right now. The Scientist may show up any minute."

"Precisely, my boy. Never put off until tomorrow what can be done today. One of my favorite proverbs. We shall begin immediately--" Here the Phoenix caught sight of the bag in David's hand and added hastily: "But, of course, we must not forget that first things come first."

"You might have brought more," said the Phoenix, fifteen minutes later.

"There weren't any more in the jar," David said. "Phoenix, please tell me what we're going to do. I don't care if curiosity _did_ kill the cat. I've been thinking about the rope and wire and bell all night, and I can't make heads or tails out of it."

The Phoenix gave a pleased laugh. "Of course you cannot, my boy. The Plan is far too profound for you to guess what it is. But set your mind at rest. I shall now explain the rope and hatchet."

David leaned forward eagerly.

"Now, scientists, you know, have fixed habits. If you know those habits, you can predict just what they will do at any time. Our particular Scientist is a daytime creature--that is to say, he comes at dawn and goes at dusk. His invariable habit, my boy!"

"Well?"

"There you are, my boy!" said the Phoenix triumphantly. "_We shall sleep during the day and continue your education at night!_"

"Oh," said David. He thought about this a while, then asked, "But suppose the Scientist comes up on the ledge during the day and catches you asleep?"

"Aha! That is where the rope and hatchet come in. Never fear, my boy--I thought of that also. We are going to construct a snare at each end of the ledge."

"How?"

"Hand me that twig, my boy." The Phoenix took the twig, found a bare spot of earth, and sketched a picture. "First we find a sapling and clear the branches from it with the hatchet--like this. Next we get a stake, cut a notch in it, and drive it into the ground--so. The sapling is bent down to it and fitted into the notch, which holds it down. You see, my boy? Now we make a noose--so--from a piece of rope, tie it to the end of the sapling, and spread the loop out on the path--this way. The whole snare is hidden under grass and leaves." The Phoenix beamed and flung out its wings in a dramatic gesture. "Just picture it, my dear chap! The Scientist, smiling evilly as he skulks along the path! The unwary footstep! The sapling, jarred out of the notch, springing upward! The tightened noose! And our archenemy dangling by the foot in mid-air, completely at our mercy! Magnificent!"

"Golly, Phoenix," said David, "that's pretty clever."

"_Clever_, my boy? Better to say 'a stroke of genius.' Only I, Phoenix, could have thought of it. And consider the poetic justice of it! This is exactly the sort of trap that the Scientist once set for me! Well, shall we begin?"

The Phoenix had made the snares sound delightfully simple, but they soon discovered that the job was harder than it sounded. First they had to find the right kind of sapling, springy and strong. The sapling had to be in the right place--one by the goat trail, the other at the far end of the ledge. When they had been chosen, David had to shinny up them to lop off their branches. That was a very awkward business; the saplings swayed and trembled under his weight, and he could only use one hand for the hatchet. Then he had to make two stakes from stout, hard wood, cut a notch at one end, and drive them into the ground with the flat of the hatchet. But the hardest part was trying to bend the sapling down to the stake and fitting it into the notch. It took the weight of both of them to bring the sapling to the ground. If they got the slightest bit off balance, it would spring up again. Once David fell off; the sapling went _swish!_ back into the air, flinging the astonished Phoenix thirty feet up the mountainside.

It was not until afternoon, when the sun had turned ruddy and shadows were beginning to stretch dark fingers across the land, that they finished the job. But at last the saplings were set in the notches, the nooses were formed and fastened on. Grass and leaves were strewn over the snares; chips, hewn branches, and other evidences of their work were removed. They sat down and looked proudly at each other.

"My boy," said the Phoenix, "I have had a wide, and sometimes painful, experience with traps; so you may believe me when I say that these are among the best I have seen. We have done well."

"They're sure strong enough," David agreed, flexing his fingers to take the stiffness out of them. "But what are we going to do if the Scientist does get caught in one?"

"We shall burn that bridge when we reach it, my boy. Now, do you have the pliers, wire-cutters, and screw driver below?"

"Yes, they're down in the cellar. What are we going to do with them, Phoenix?"

"Patience, patience! You will be told when the time comes. I shall meet you tonight after dark, as soon as it is safe for me to come down. I trust you will have everything ready?"

"Are you coming _down_?"

"Precisely, my boy. A risk, I admit, but a necessary one. There is a hedge at the back of your house, is there not? Splendid. You may await me there."

* * * * *

David, sitting in the shadow of the hedge, jumped when he heard the Phoenix's quiet "Good evening, my boy."

"Phoenix," he whispered, "how did you do it? Golly, I didn't see you at all, and it isn't even dark yet."

"I have been hunted long enough, my boy, to have learned a few tricks. It is merely a matter of gliding close to the ground, selecting the best shadows, and keeping a sharp lookout. Well, let us get on with the Plan. Have you the tools here?"

"Yes, here they are."

"Splendid! Now, my boy, since we must continue your education during the night, it is necessary that we have some way of getting in touch with each other. If you climb the mountainside in the dark, you may unwittingly fall into our own snare. It is far easier for me to come down than it is for you to go up, and under cover of darkness I can do it quite safely. The question now is, how will you know when I have arrived? That, my boy, is the nub, or crux, of the situation. A difficult problem, you will admit. But I have worked out the solution."

The Phoenix lowered its voice impressively.

"My boy, we are going to install this bell in your room, and the pushbutton on the base of that telephone pole. When I arrive here at night, I shall press the button to let you know that I am ready to go. A magnificent idea, isn't it?"