David and the Phoenix by Edward Ormondroyd (the best electronic book reader .txt) đź“•
He heard a flailing in the thicket, followed by the bird's anxious voice: "Hello! Are you still there?"
"Yes. What--?"
There were more sounds of struggle. "This is rather awkward. I--the fact 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 two of them sat down on the grass and looked at each other. They hesitated, not quite sure how to begin.
"I trust," said the bird at last, "that you are not of a scientific turn of mind?"
"I don't know," said David. "I'm interested in things, if that
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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?"
It did not seem very practical to David. "Well, Phoenix, that's a good idea," he said carefully. "But how are we going to hide the wires? And what about the noise of the bell?"
"Nothing to it, my boy! The wires? There are wires between your house and the telephone pole already—one more would not be noticed. The noise? You have a pillow on your bed, under which the bell can be muffled."
"Yes, that's true." It still sounded impractical.
"Just imagine it!" the Phoenix continued enthusiastically. "Perhaps later we can install another bell at this end. Then we could learn Morse code and send messages to each other. Exactly like a private telephone line!"
Put in this way, the idea had a certain appeal, and David found himself warming to it. But there was another thing to consider.
"How about electricity, Phoenix?"
"Look above you, my boy! The telephone pole is simply loaded down with power lines waiting to be tapped."
The Phoenix was evidently set on carrying out the Plan, and David did not want to
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