David and the Phoenix

by Edward Ormondroyd

  2: _In Which David Meets the Phoenix, and There Is a Change in Plans_

  There stood an enormous bird.

  David had been to the zoo, and at home he had a book of birds withcolored pictures. He knew the more common large birds of the world:the ostrich, the condor, the albatross, eagles, cranes, storks. But_this_ bird--! Its shape was like that of an eagle, but stouter. Itsneck had the length and elegant curve of a swan's neck. Its head wasagain like an eagle's, with a hooked bird-of-prey beak, but theexpression in its brown eyes was mild. The long wings were blunt atthe tips, the tail was short and broad. The legs, feathered halfwaydown, ended in taloned feet. An iridescent sheen sparkled on itsplumage, reflecting sunlight from the scarlet crest, the golden neckand back, the breast of silver, the sapphire wings and tail. Its sizealone would have been enough to take David's breath away. He couldhave stood beneath the arch of that neck with room to spare.

  But the most astonishing thing was that the bird had an open book onthe ground and was apparently trying to learn part of it by heart.

  "_Vivo, vives, vive_," the bird read, very slowly and distinctly,staring hard at the book. "_Vivimos, vivis, viven._ _That_ is simpleenough, you blockhead! Now, then, without looking." It cleared itsthroat, looked away from the book, and repeated in a rapid mutter:"_Vivo vives vive vi_--ah--_vivi_--oh, dear, what _is_ the matter withme?" Here the temptation to peek overcame it for an instant, and itshead wavered. But it said, "No, no!" in a firm tone, looked carefullythe other way, and began once more.

  "_Vivo, vives, vive_--quite correct so far. Ah--_vi_--ah--Oh, dear,these verbs! Where was I? Oh, yes. _Vivo_--"

  David's head reeled as he watched this amazing performance. There wasno need to pinch himself to see if he were dreaming: he was perfectlywide awake. Everything else around him was behaving in a normal way.The mountain was solid beneath him, the sunlight streamed down asbefore. Yet there was the bird, unmistakably before him, undeniablystudying its book and speaking to itself. David's mind caught hold ofa phrase and repeated it over and over again: "What on _earth_? Whaton _earth_?" But of course there was no answer to that question. Andhe might have lain hidden there all day, staring out at the bird andmarveling, had it not been for a bee which came droning into thethicket straight for him.

  He had a horror of bees, ever since he had once bumped into a hive bymistake. When he heard that dread sound approaching, his whole bodybroke into a sweat. All thought of the bird was immediately drivenfrom his head. He could tell from the noise that it was one of thosebig black-and-yellow fuzzy bees, the ones with the nasty dispositions.Perhaps--the thought paralyzed him--perhaps he was lying on its nest.On it came, buzzing and blundering through the leaves. Suddenly itwas upon him, so close that he could feel the tiny breeze stirred upby its wings. All self-control vanished. He beat at it wildly with hishands, burst out of the thicket like an explosion, and smashed fulltilt into the bird before he could stop himself.

  With a piercing squawk the bird shot into the air, flipped over, andcame fluttering down facing him--talons outstretched, hooked beakopen, eyes a-glare. Completely terrified, David turned and bolted forthe thicket. He managed to thrash halfway through when a vine trappedhis feet. He pitched forward, shielding his face with his arms, andwas caught up short by a dead branch snagging his shirt.

  He was stuck. This was the end. He closed his eyes and waited, toonumb with fear to think or cry out.

  Nothing happened. Slowly he turned his head around. The bird, althoughit still glared menacingly, seemed undecided whether to attack orflee.

  "What, may I ask, are you doing here?" it said at last, in a severevoice.

  "I--I--I was taking a walk," David said faintly. "I'm awfully sorry ifI bothered you or anything."

  "You should not have come up here at _all_," the bird snapped.

  "Well, I'm really sorry. But there was a bee in the bush here. I--Ididn't mean to...." The fright had been too much. Tears started inDavid's eyes, and his lip began to tremble.

  The bird seemed reassured, for its manner visibly softened. It loweredand folded its wings, and the glare faded from its eyes.

  "I'd go away," David mumbled apologetically, "only I'm stuck." Herubbed his eyes on his sleeve.

  The bird looked at his dismal face and began to fidget awkwardly."There, there," it said. "I had no intention of--I am afraid thatI--Stuck, did you say? Very easily mended, my dear fellow! Merely aquestion of--Here, let me look." It crashed through the thicket towhere David was caught and thrust its head down through the branches.Its muffled voice came floating up. "Take heart! There seems tobe--aha! just so--One moment, please--bit of vine--_there_ we are!"There was a snapping sound from below, and David's foot was released.He unstuck the snag from his shirt, pushed his way out of the thicket,and sat down weakly on the grass. Whew! At least the bird was notgoing to harm him. It seemed to be quite a kindly creature, really. Hehad just frightened it and made it angry by bursting out of the bushesso suddenly.

  He heard a flailing in the thicket, followed by the bird's anxiousvoice: "Hello! Are you still there?"

  "Yes. What--?"

  There were more sounds of struggle. "This is rather awkward. I--thefact is, I am afraid, that I am stuck myself. Could you--"

  "Yes, of course," said David. He smiled to himself, a little shakily,and re-entered the thicket. When he had disentangled the bird, the twoof them sat down on the grass and looked at each other. Theyhesitated, not quite sure how to begin.

  "I trust," said the bird at last, "that you are not of a scientificturn of mind?"

  "I don't know," said David. "I'm interested in things, if that's whatyou mean."

  "No, it is not. There is a great deal of difference between theinterest shown by normal people and the obsessive interest ofscientists. You are not, I hope, acquainted with any scientists?"

  "No."

  "Ah," said the bird, with a relieved sigh. "Everything is quite allright, then. I do hope that you will forgive my behavior. I am notusually so rude. The fact is that you gave me quite a horrible start."

  "Oh, I'm sorry I frightened you."

  "Frightened, my dear fellow?" said the bird testily. "I am neverfrightened. I do not know the meaning of the word."

  "What I mean is," David said quickly, "that you frightened _me_." Thisseemed to pacify the bird; and David, to heighten the goodimpression, added: "Golly, you looked fierce."

  The bird smiled complacently, "I _can_ rise to a terrifying ferocitywhen aroused. A noble strain of fighting blood courses through myveins. Not that I go out of my way to seek quarrels, you understand.On the contrary. 'Peaceful' could well describe my general attitude.Meditative. I am usually to be found Thinking. I have a powerfulintellect. No doubt you have noticed the stamp of genius on my brow."

  David supposed that the bird meant its scarlet crest, and he nodded."That's one of the first things I noticed about you."

  "Indeed?" cried the bird delightedly. "You are certainly more alertthan most! But, as I was saying, I am usually to be found Thinking.The first condition of Thinking is solitude. And that, I fear, is adesideratum most difficult of realization."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "People," explained the bird, "do not leave you alone."

  "Oh," said David. He flushed, thinking that the words had been aimedat him, and began to get up. But the bird signaled him to remain wherehe was.

  "I do not mean _you_, my dear fellow. I assure you that I am delightedto make your acquaintance. It is all the others. Do you know that Ihave spent the greater part of my life being pursued? I was chased outof Egypt like a common game bird. Out of the mountains of Greece, too.The hills of Lebanon, the desert of Africa, the Arabian wilds--nomatter where I fled, people would come prying and peering and sneakingafter me. I have tried Tibet, China, and the steppes of Siberia--withthe same result. At last I heard of a region where there was peace,where the inhabitants let each other alone. Here, I thought, Ishould--"

  "Pardon me for interrupting. Where?"

 
"Why, _here_, to be brief," said the bird, waving its wing toward thevalley. "Here, I thought, I should be able to breathe. At _my_ age onelikes a little quiet. Would you believe that I am close to fivehundred years old?"

  "Golly!" said David. "You don't look it."

  The bird gave a pleased laugh. "My splendid physical condition _does_conceal my years. At any rate, I settled here in the hope of beingleft alone. But do you think I was safe?"

  David, seeing that he was supposed to answer no, shook his head.

  "Quite right," sighed the bird. "I was not. I had been here no morethan three months when a Scientist was hot on my trail. A mostdisagreeable fellow, always sneaking about with binoculars, a camera,and, I fear, a gun. That is why you startled me for an instant. Ithought you were he."

  "Oh," David cried, "I'm awfully sorry. I didn't bother you on purpose.It's just that I never saw a mountain before, so I climbed up here tosee what one looked like."

  "You climbed up here?"

  "Yes."

  "Climbed," said the bird, looking very thoughtful. "Climbed ... Imight have known.... It proves, you see, that the same thing could bedone again by someone older and stronger. A very grave point."

  "Oh, I see," said David. "You mean the--"

  "Precisely! The Scientist. He is, I fear, very persistent. I firstnoticed him over there"--the bird waved its wing toward the oppositeside of the valley--"so I removed to this location. But he willundoubtedly continue his pursuit. The bad penny always turns up. Itwill not be long before the sharp scientific nose is again quiveringin my direction."

  "Oh, dear, that's terrible!"

  "Your sympathy touches me," said the bird huskily. "It is most unusualto find someone who understands. But have no fear for me. I am takingsteps. I am preparing. Imagine his disappointment when he arrives hereand finds me flown from the nest. I am, to be brief, leaving. Do yousee this book?"

  "Yes," said David. "I heard you reading it, but I couldn't understandit. Is it magic?"

  "No, my boy, it is Spanish. I have chosen a little spot (chilly, butisolated) in the Andes Mountains. South America, you know. And ofcourse one must be prepared. I am learning Spanish so that I shall beable to make my way about in South America. I must admit my extremereluctance to depart. I have become very fond of this ledge. It isexactly suited to my needs--ideal climate, magnificent view...."

  They fell into a lengthy silence. The bird gazed sadly out over thevalley, and David rested his chin in his hands and thought. Themystery was clearing up. The bird's presence on the mountain and thefact that it had been reading a book were explained. And so naturalwas its speech that David found himself accepting it as nothingunusual. The thing that worried him now was that the bird would soonleave. Here they had only just met, and already the promise of a mostinteresting friendship was dissolving. The bird had taken time to talkto him and explain things to him as though he were an equal. Andalthough he did not understand many of the long words it used, he feltpleased at being spoken to as though he did understand. And the birdknew all about faraway countries--had visited them and lived in themand had adventures in them for almost five hundred years. Oh, therewere so many things David wanted to know and ask about! But the birdwas leaving. If only he could persuade it to stay, even for a shortwhile! He could try, anyhow--after all, the bird had said itself thatit did not want to go.

  "Bird--" He stopped, and flushed. It was hard to put into words.

  "Your servant, my boy."

  "Well--I--I don't believe I know your name," David stammered, unableto get the real question out.

  "Ah, forgive me!" cried the bird, jumping up. "Permit me the honor ofpresenting myself. I daresay my name is familiar to you, celebrated asit is in song and story. I am the one and only, the Unique, Phoenix."And the Phoenix bowed deeply.

  "Very glad to meet you," said David. "I'm David."

  "Delighted, my dear fellow! An honor and a pleasure." They shook handand wing solemnly. "Now, as you were saying--?"

  "Well, Phoenix, I was just thinking," David stammered. "It's toobad--I mean, couldn't you--it would be nice if we--Well, do you really_have_ to go to South America? It would be nice if you'd stay a while,until the Scientist shows up, anyway--and I like talking with you...."His face burned. It seemed like a lot to ask.

  The Phoenix harrumphed several times in its throat and shuffled itsfeet. "Really, I cannot tell you how--how much you--well, really--sucha delightful request! Ah--harrumph! Perhaps it can be arranged."

  "Oh, Phoenix!" David threw his arms around the bird's neck and then,unable to restrain himself any longer, turned a somersault on thegrass.

  "But for the present, it seems to be getting late," said the Phoenix."We shall talk it over some other time and decide."

  "Golly, it _is_ late--I hadn't noticed. Well, I'll have to go, orthey'll worry about me at home. But I can come up and see youtomorrow, can't I?"

  "Of course, my boy! In the bustle of morning, in the hush of noon, inthe--ah--to be brief, at any time."

  "And I'll bring you some cookies, if you like."

  "Ah," said the Phoenix, closing its eyes. "Sugar cookies, by anychance?" it asked faintly. David noticed the feathers of its throatjumping up and down with rapid swallowing motions.

  "I'll ask Aunt Amy to make some tonight."

  "Ah, splendid, my boy! Splendid! Shall we say not more than--ah--thatis, not _less_ than--ah--fifteen?"

  "All right, Phoenix. My Aunt Amy keeps a big jar full of cookies, andI can have as many as I like."

  The Phoenix took David's arm, and together they strolled to the otherend of the ledge.

  "Now, don't mention this to anyone, but there is an old goat traildown this side. It is somewhat grown over, but eyes as sharp as yoursshould have no trouble with it. It will make your travels up and downeasier. Another thing--I trust you will not make known ourrendezvous?"

  "Our what?"

  "You will not tell anyone that I am here?"

  "Oh, no. I won't say a word! Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Yes. As the French so cleverly say it--ah--well, to be brief,good-by, my boy. Until tomorrow, then."

  David waved his hand, found the goat trail, and started down. He wastoo happy even to whistle, so he contented himself with runningwhenever he found a level place. And when he reached home, he stood onhis hands in the back yard for two whole seconds.