8: _In Which David and the Phoenix Visit a Banshee, and a Surprise IsPlanted in the Enemy's Camp_
Next day Mother asked David to help her straighten out the garden,which had been trampled by the repair men; so he could not go to seethe Phoenix until after lunch. But when that was finished, he rushedup the mountainside as fast as he could, wondering all the way what heand the Phoenix were going to do now.
The ledge was empty when he got there. He shouted, "Phoenix!" andlistened.
"Hel-l-lp!" came a faint answering cry from the other end of theledge.
David jumped through the thicket. A pitiful sight met his eyes. Therewas the Phoenix, dangling by one foot from the snare, its wings feeblystruggling and its free foot clawing the air. The feathers of itswings and tail were singed. Great beads of sweat rolled from itsforehead into a puddle on the ground below. The snared foot was blueand swollen.
"Get me down," gasped the Phoenix weakly.
David took a running leap at the sapling, which broke under the suddenincrease of weight, and the two of them crashed to the ground. Heunfastened the noose and dragged the Phoenix to the shadiest, softestspot on the ledge.
"Hoist with my own petard," said the Phoenix bitterly. "Rub my foot,will you? Oh dear oh dear oh dear! Hurts."
"What happened?" David asked as he rubbed the swollen foot. "How longhave you been caught?"
"Missed my way in the dark," said the Phoenix, wiping its brow."Thought I was on the other side of the ledge, and landed right onthat fool trap. Hung there all night and all morning. Thought youwould never come, my boy. Oh dear, oh dear, what a horribleexperience! My tail was still on fire when I landed, too. I fullyexpected to be burned to a crisp." A large tear rolled down thePhoenix's beak.
David murmured soothing words and continued to chafe the Phoenix'sfoot. "Does it feel any better now?"
"The feeling is coming back, my boy," said the Phoenix, gritting itsbeak. "Ouch! All pins and needles." It flexed its toes gingerly. "Ruba bit more, please. Gently."
The swelling began to go down. With a handful of damp grass Davidsoothed the marks left by the noose.
"That stupid Electric Company!" the Phoenix suddenly burst out."Putting everyone in danger with a short-circuited power line! Letthis be a lesson to you, my boy. Anything worth doing is worth doingwell. They will hear from us, believe me! We shall write them a stiffcomplaint!"
"Well, Phoenix," said David hopefully, "we can set the snare again ifwe can find another good sapling; and we still have the other one, sowe're pretty well protected. And why couldn't we meet every night bythe hedge, the way we did last night? The bell was a good idea, butwe _could_ get along without it."
The Phoenix sighed. "I suppose you are right, my boy. There is no usecrying over spilt milk. One must set one's jaw and--good heavens, myboy! _Duck!_"
The Phoenix threw itself to the ground and wildly motioned to David todo the same. He flattened himself out beside the bird and said, "Whatis it, Phoenix?"
"Down the mountainside," whispered the Phoenix. "Look! Do not stickyour head over too far."
David wormed his way to the edge, peered down, and gasped. Below him,on the grassy slope at the foot of the scarp, was a figure clad inkhaki. It was the Scientist.
"Do you think he saw us?" the Phoenix whispered.
"I don't think so," David whispered back. "He's looking off to theleft. Oh, Phoenix, what if he comes up here? What'll we do?"
"Listen," hissed the Phoenix, "run down there. Talk to him, lead himaway, distract his attention, anything. Only be quick!"
"All right!"
The Phoenix melted into the thicket, and David jumped to his feet. Ashe dashed down the trail his brain whirled with questions. What shouldhe do? What could he say? How could he lead the Scientist away? Wherewould the Phoenix go?
In his haste he forgot one important thing. His foot tripped over thepile of grass and leaves on the trail. The released sapling sprangupward, the noose tightened with a cruel jerk around his ankle, and hewas snatched into the air. As the blood rushed to his head he lostcontrol of himself and began to struggle wildly and shout at the topof his voice.
The flat dry voice of the Scientist drifted to him as if through along tunnel. "What's all this? What are you doing here? Who set thissnare?"
"Get me down," David choked. "Please!"
A hand seized him by the scruff of the neck. A knife flashed throughthe air and cut the rope. David landed on his feet, but his legs gaveway and he dropped to his knees. He felt dizzy as the blood rushedaway from his head again.
The Scientist tilted his sun helmet back and said, "Well,well--David," in a disagreeable tone. His eyes narrowed behind thespectacles. "What is this snare doing here?"
David struggled to his feet and clutched a bush for support. "Thankyou for cutting me down," he said.
The cold blue eyes found David's and held them in a hypnotic stare."What is this trap doing here? Who set it?"
"I--I was coming down the trail and--and--I was caught in it," Davidstammered.
"You are avoiding my question, young man," said the Scientist."Who--set--this--snare? Answer me!"
There was a brilliant flash of gold and blue in the sunlight, thewhistle of feathers cleaving the air, the sharp _thwock!_ of fistedtalons striking. The Scientist pitched forward with a surprised gruntand lay still across the trail--and the Phoenix, executing a flip inthe air to check its speed, settled down beside David.
"View halloo!" it shouted excitedly. "Yoicks and Tallyho! Did you seethat stoop, my boy? By Jove, the best-trained falcon could not havedone better! Believe me, I have been saving that blow for a long time!By Jove, what a magnificent stoop! I think I shall take upScientist-hunting as a regular thing!"
"Thank goodness, Phoenix!" David exclaimed. "Another minute and youwould've been too late! But I hope you haven't--hurt him very much."
"Nonsense, my boy," said the Phoenix. "A head so stuffed withscientific fact cannot be injured. He will come to in a short while."The Phoenix lifted the Scientist's sun helmet and examined the back ofhis head. "A large lump is developing, my boy. A most pleasant sight!I fear the sun helmet is now useless--crushed like an eggshell." Andthe Phoenix smiled proudly.
"Well, I hope it isn't serious," David said doubtfully. "Anyway, we'llhave to do something."
"Precisely, my boy. But I think we should have a drink first." ThePhoenix detached a canteen from the Scientist's belt and took a deepswig. "Ah, delicious! Our friend is well prepared, my boy." Andindeed, the Scientist had all sorts of things with him: a hand-ax, asheath knife, a compass, a camera, binoculars, a stop watch, notebooksand pencils, a coil of rope, maps. There was also a packet ofsandwiches, which the Phoenix opened and began to eat.
"Now, listen, Phoenix, we have to do something."
"Quite right, my boy," the Phoenix mumbled, with its mouth full. "Havea sandwich--spoils of war--peanut butter--very nourishing. The fact isthat I have just thought of another plan, which cannot fail. Have weany money left?"
"Yes, four gold pieces. Why?"
"Splendid. Now, my boy, I shall leave you. When the Scientist wakesup, you will help him down to wherever he lives. Find out where hisroom is. I shall meet you by the hedge at midnight. Be sure you havethe gold pieces with you."
"All right. What are we--"
"Sure you will not have a sandwich?"
"No, thank you. What are we--"
"Very well. Farewell, then, my boy. Till midnight."
David poured what was left in the canteen over the Scientist's headand fanned him with a notebook. Presently the man stirred and groaned.Then he sat up and muttered, "What hit me?"
"Can you stand up yet?" David said.
Too dazed to ask any more questions, the Scientist got up, groaning,put on his broken spectacles, collected his scattered equipment, andleaned on David. The two of them proceeded slowly down the trailtogether, frequently sitting down to rest. The Scientist murmured thename of his hotel and pointed out the direction.
Townspeople stared at them as they passed, but no one stopped them orasked questions, and they reached the hotel without further incident.They entered the lobby, and the Scientist sank into a chair.
"Let me help you to your room," said David.
In a few minutes the Scientist got up again, and they took theelevator to the fourth floor. David closely watched the direction theywere going, and when they came into the Scientist's room, he lookedquickly through the window. There was a fire escape just outside. Hehad the information now: fourth floor, west side, fire escape bywindow.
The Scientist eased himself onto the bed with a groan.
Then he turned to David and said severely: "There's something strangeabout all this, and I intend to get to the bottom of it. You'll behearing from me, young man!"
"All right," said David, closing the door. "And you'll be hearing from_us_," he added in an undertone, "if I know the Phoenix!"
* * * * *
Flying at night was colder than flying by day, but it was morethrilling, too. They whistled through an immense blackness. Starsglittered overhead, and quicksilver patches of moonlight and shadowflashed across the clouds below. They were going to Ireland, but why,David did not know. The Phoenix was playing its wait-and-see gameagain.
In an hour or so they shot out over the edge of the cloud mass, andDavid could see a rocky coast below, dark and cold in the half-light.The Phoenix began to slant down toward it, and presently they landedin a little meadow. One side of the meadow ran down to a bog filledwith reeds, and on the other side was a gloomy wood. Everything wasdark and indistinct, but David thought he could tell why the Phoenixhad called this the Emerald Isle. The grass beneath their feet was thethickest he had ever felt. He touched a boulder and found it furrywith moss. With the wood and the reed-choked bog, the whole placewould be rich with various greens in the daylight.
Just then they saw a little man approaching them from the wood. He wasthree feet tall, dressed all in green, and had a long white beard.When he reached them he raised his cap politely and said, "Goodevenin' to you."
"A fine evening to you, my good Leprechaun," said the Phoenix. "Couldyou kindly tell us--"
"Will you have a cigar?" the Leprechaun interrupted.
With a surprised "Thank you very much," the Phoenix took the cigar,bit off the end, and popped it into its beak. The Leprechaun lightedit, and the Phoenix puffed away.
"Stick o' gum, lad?" said the Leprechaun to David, holding out a pack.
"Why, yes, thank you," said David. He took the stick of gum from thepack, and was immediately sorry for it. The stick was made of wood andhad a small wire spring, like a mouse trap, which snapped down on hisfinger and made him yelp with pain. At the same instant the Phoenix'scigar exploded, knocking the startled bird backwards into a bush.
"Haw haw haw!" shouted the Leprechaun, rolling on the ground andholding his sides. "Haw haw haw!"
In a trice the Phoenix had pounced on the Leprechaun and pinned him tothe ground.
"Let him up," said David furiously. "I'll punch his head for him."
"I think, my boy," said the Phoenix coldly, "that I shall carry thecreature up into the clouds and drop him. Or should we take him backwith us and hand him over to the Scientist?"
"Now, don't take offense, Your Honor," said the Leprechaun. "I thoughtyou'd look at it as kind o' comic."
"Exceedingly comic," said the Phoenix severely. "I am quite overcomewith mirth and merriment. But perhaps--_perhaps_--I shall let you offlightly if you tell us where the Banshee lives."
"The--the Banshee of Mare's Nest Wood?"
"The same. Speak!"
A new light of respect and fear came into the Leprechaun's eyes."She's a terror, she is. What'll you be wanting--"
"None of your business!" roared the Phoenix. "Where is she?"
The Leprechaun had begun to tremble. "Follow the path yonder throughthe wood until you reach the cave, Your Honor. You're not friends o'hers, are you? You'll not be telling on me? I'm real sorry for thosejokes, Your Honor."
The Leprechaun's fright was so genuine now that the Phoenix relentedand let him go. The little creature dashed off like a rabbit into thebog.
"Let that be a lesson to you, my boy," said the Phoenix. "Beware theLeprechaun bearing gifts. But I wonder why the thought of the Bansheefrightened him so?"
They followed the path until they came to the mouth of a cave under aheap of rocks. The Phoenix plunged in, and David nervously followed.The cave turned out to be a long passageway which led, after severalturns, into a chamber.
From the ceiling of this rocky vault hung an electric light bulb,which glared feebly through drifts of smoke. All around the walls werewooden boxes, stacked up to make shelves and cupboards. These werefilled with an astonishing array of objects: bottles, vials, alembics,retorts, test tubes, decanters, cages, boxes, jars, pots, skulls,books, snake skins, wands, waxen images, pins and needles, locks ofhair, crystal balls, playing cards, dice, witch-hazel forks, tails ofanimals, spices, bottles of ink in several colors, clay pipes, asmall brass scale, compasses, measuring cups, a piggy bank whichsquealed off and on in a peevish way, balls of string and ribbons, apile of magazines called _The Warlock Weekly_, a broken ukulele,little heaps of powder, colored stones, candle ends, some pottedcacti, and an enormous cash register. In the middle of the chamber alittle hideous crone in a Mother Hubbard crouched over a saucepan,stirring it with a wooden spoon. The saucepan was resting in the coalsof an open fire, and smoke and steam together spread out in a murky,foul-smelling fog.
The crone peered at them over the top of her spectacles and cackled,"Come in, come in, dearies. I'll be with you as soon as ever I finishthis brew."
The Phoenix, who had been gazing around the chamber in surprise, said,"My dear Banshee, since when have you taken up witchcraft? This ismost unexpected."
"Ah, 'tis the Phoenix!" exclaimed the hag, peering at them again."Well, fancy that now! Och, you may well ask, and I'll be telling you.'Tis a poor life being a Banshee--long hours and not so much assixpence in it for a full night's work, and I got that sick of it! SoI changed me trade. 'Sure, you'll never make a go of it,' they toldme, 'and at your age,' they says, 'and once you've got your stationin life,' they says, 'there's no changing it.' 'It's in the prime ofme life I am,' says I, 'and I'll not be changing me mind for all yourcackling,' says I, 'and if certain mouths don't shut up,' says I,'I'll cast spells that'll make certain people wish they were dead.'That set them back on their heels, you may be sure. Well, 'twas thebest decision of me life. The money pours in like sorrows to a widow,and I'll be retiring within the year to live out my days like a properqueen."
Then the Banshee caught sight of David and hobbled over to him,peering into his frightened eyes.
"Ah, the wee darling," she crooned, "the plump little mannikin. What abroth he'd make, to be sure." She pinched his arm, and he started backin terror. "So firm and plump, to make the mouth water. Sell him tome, Phoenix!"
"Nonsense," said the Phoenix sharply. "What we desire--"
At this instant the contents of the saucepan began to hiss and bubble."Whoops, dearies, the brew is boiling!" shrieked the Banshee, and shehobbled back to the fire to resume her work. She looked in a recipebook, stirred, clapped her hands, sang hair-raising incantations in aquavery voice, and added a pinch of salt and sulfur. She sprinkledspices from a shaker, waved her wand, popped in a dead toad, andfanned up the fire with an ostrich plume.
"Now for the hard part," she said, grinning at them toothlessly. Shemeasured out a spoonful of green powder, weighed it in the scales, andflung it into the saucepan. There was a loud explosion. A huge blastof steam flared out and engulfed them. When it had cleared, they sawthe Banshee tilting the saucepan over a small bottle. One ruby drop offluid fell into the bottle. It darted forth rays of light as it fell,and tinkled like a silver coin rolling down flights of marble steps.
The Banshee corked the bottle and held it up proudly to the light."Will you look at
that, now?" she crooned. "The finest ever I brewed.Ah, the mystic droplet! Some swain will be buying that, now, andputting it in a lassie's cup o' tea, and she'll be pining away forlove of him before the day's out."
She put the bottle on the shelf, pasted a label on it, and turned tothem with a businesslike air.
"Now, dearies, what'll you be wanting? Philtres? Poison?--I've aspecial today, only five shillings a vial. A spell? What about yourfortunes?--one shilling if seen in the crystal ball, one and six ifread from the palm. A hex?--I've the finest in six counties. A ticketto the Walpurgis Night Ball?"
"We want a Wail," said the Phoenix. "And we shall accept nothing butthe best and loudest you have."
"Ah, a Banshee's Wail, is it?" cried the hag. "You've come to theright shop, dearies, to be sure. Now, let me see...." She hobbled to ashelf which contained a row of boxes, ran her finger along them,stopped at one, and took it down. "Here we are--key of C-sharp, twominutes long, only five shillings threepence."
"No, no," said the Phoenix. "A larger one. We have something more thanmice to frighten."
"A bigger one? Och, here's a lovely one, now--five minutes long,ascending scale with a sob at the end, guaranteed to scare a statue.Yours for ten and six. I call that a real bargain, now!"
"Bah!" said the Phoenix impatiently. "Enough of these squeaks! We wanta real _Wail_, my dear Banshee--such a Wail as never before was heardon the face of this earth. And stop this babbling about shillings andpence. We are prepared to pay in gold." The Phoenix took the fourpieces of gold from David and carelessly tossed them into the air.
The Banshee's eyes flew wide open, and she twirled herself around likea top. "Och, the sweet music of its tinkling!" she exclaimed. "Thelovely sheen of light upon it! _There's_ a sight for eyes used tonaught but silver! Ah, but dearies, I've no Wail worth four pieces ofgold. I'll have to make one up special." She hobbled rapidly aroundthe chamber until she had found a box as large as a bird cage, and anear trumpet. She opened the box, shook it to make sure it was empty,and put in two heads of cabbage. ("Such monstrous appetites theseWails do have!" she explained.) She fastened the lid carefully with acatch-lock, and inserted the ear trumpet in a hole in one side of thebox. Then she disappeared through a sound-proof door, which they hadnot seen before on account of the smoke.
Fifteen minutes later the Banshee came out with the box, plugging upthe hole in its side with a bit of wax. She was pale and trembling,and beads of sweat covered her face. She smiled weakly at them, seizedan earthen-ware jug, and drained it in one gulp. The color began toreturn to her face.
"Wsssht!" she gasped, wiping her brow with the sleeve of her MotherHubbard. "Ah, dearies, that was the effort of me life! 'Tis a Wail tomake one burst with pride, though I do say it meself. Thirteen minuteslong by the clock, with a range of ten octaves! 'Twould frighten theOld Nick himself!"
"Splendid!" said the Phoenix. "The fact is, I sometimes suspect thatthat is precisely with whom we are dealing at home."
The light suddenly dawned on David. "Phoenix!" he cried. "I bet we'regoing to give the Wail to the Scientist!"
"Precisely, my boy!" The Phoenix beamed.
"Oh, golly golly golly!" David sang as he danced around.
"And I'll guarantee it, dearies!" the Banshee cackled. "One hundredper cent satisfaction or your money back!"
"Defeat and confusion to the enemy!" the Phoenix shouted, giving thespecial squawk which was its battle cry.
The Banshee received her gold. The Phoenix told David for goodnesssake not to drop the box or let the lid pop open, or they would regretit to their dying day. David, hearing the rustle of the Wail as itravenously attacked the cabbages inside the box, assured the Phoenixthat he would be careful. The Banshee said, "Ah, Phoenix, do sell theladdie to me," but her tone was more teasing than serious, and theyall laughed. Good-bys were said all round, and David and the Phoenixleft. The last thing they heard as they felt their way up the darkpassage was the happy cackling of the Banshee and the clang of thecash register.
* * * * *
They got back to the hotel before dawn and very carefully crept downthe fire escape into the Scientist's room. They put the box on thebedside table, stuck out their tongues at the sleeping Scientist, andcrept out again. Then they went home, the Phoenix to the ledge andDavid to bed, where he fell asleep instantly.
The Wail was wildly successful. The Scientist released it from its boxat seven o'clock in the morning. People living in the hotel thoughtthe world had come to its end. The rest of the town wondered if it wasa riot, or an earthquake, or both with three steam calliopes thrownin for good measure. David, who lived twelve blocks from the hotel,stirred in his sleep and dreamed he was riding a fire engine. Even thePhoenix claimed later that a kind of moan was borne on the breeze allthe way up to the ledge.
The hotel burst into activity like a kicked anthill. People poureddown the fire escapes, shot out through the doors, lowered themselvesinto the street with ropes of knotted blankets. Others barricadedthemselves in their rooms by piling furniture against the doors andwindows. One guest found his way to the cellar and hid in an ash canfor two days. The manager crawled into the office safe and locked thedoor, without even bothering to remember that he was the only one whoknew the combination. The telephone exchange was jammed as callsflooded in to mobilize the Boy Scouts, the Red Cross, the SalvationArmy, the National Guard, and the Volunteer Flood Control Association.When the Wail finally died out (which was not until seven-thirty,because it had devoured both cabbages during the night and had grownto more than twice its original size) the police entered the hotel inforce, armed to the eyebrows. They found nothing. At the end of athree-hour search the Chief handed in his resignation.
As for the Scientist, he disappeared completely. A farmer living threemiles out of town said he saw a man, dressed in a nightshirt andhead-bandage, running down the valley road. The farmer guessed theman's speed to be thirty-five miles an hour. But, he added, there wassuch a cloud of dust being raised that he could not see very well.
"It might have been fifty miles an hour," he said.
No one doubted him.
David and the Phoenix Page 8
