<p class="f1"><SPAN name="In_Which_a_Five_Hundredth_Birthday_Is_Celebrated_and_the_Phoenix" id="In_Which_a_Five_Hundredth_Birthday_Is_Celebrated_and_the_Phoenix"></SPAN>10: <i>In Which a Five Hundredth<br/>
Birthday Is Celebrated,<br/>
and the Phoenix<br/>
Bows to Tradition</i></p>
<p>"That's funny," said David, rubbing his eyes and looking around in a
puzzled way. "Where are we, Phoenix?"</p>
<p>"'Home is the sailor, home from the hill,'" the Phoenix said, "'And
the hunter home from the sea.' Or is it the other way around? At any
rate, we are home, my boy."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>And so they were.</p>
<p>"Weren't we playing with a Faun just now?"</p>
<p>"Quite so."</p>
<p>"But there was something else," David said. "Something ... Didn't
somebody say, 'Follow, before it is too late,' or something like that?
<i>Did</i> we follow?—I can't remember."</p>
<p>"No, my boy. By the time one hears that, it is already too late."</p>
<p>"Oh." Too late for what? he wondered. Oh, well ... He sighed, and fell
to daydreaming.</p>
<p>A cough from the Phoenix brought him back.</p>
<p>"Beg your pardon?"</p>
<p>"I have never seen you so thoughtful, my boy. However, I believe I
know what you are thinking about. It <i>is</i> a difficult problem, is it
not?"</p>
<p>"Yes, I was just—"</p>
<p>"—thinking what you could get me for a birthday present," interrupted
the Phoenix. "Am I not correct?"</p>
<p>David, who had not even given this a thought until now, flushed.</p>
<p>"Aha!" said the Phoenix triumphantly. "Just as I thought! Believe me,
my dear fellow, when you have been around as long as <i>I</i> have, you can
read the minds of your<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></SPAN></span> friends as easily as a book. Now, the problem
of what to give is a hard one at any time, but the problem of what to
give for a five hundredth birthday is even harder. A monogrammed ash
tray? I do not receive cigars often enough to make that practical. A
hand-knitted sweater? It would not fit (they never do). A gold-plated
watch chain? I have no watch. No, the best idea would be to get me
something which I can use."</p>
<p>"Certainly, Phoenix," David stammered. "What <i>do</i> you want, then?"</p>
<p>"Ah! We have reached the kernel of the problem. And the answer, my
boy, is this: cinnamon."</p>
<p>"Cinnamon?"</p>
<p>"Precisely. Also a box of matches—the kind that strike anywhere, you
know."</p>
<p>"Well—all right. It doesn't sound like much of a present, but if
that's what you really want.... What are you going to do with them,
Phoenix? I mean, if you don't mind my asking."</p>
<p>"The plain fact is, my boy," said the Phoenix doubtfully, "the plain
fact is—well, I do not know. Odd! But something tells me I shall need
them. Well, it will come to me in the morning, no doubt. And then, of
course, I shall be very glad to have them on hand."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"All right, cinnamon and matches, then. And I'll get some—no, I won't
tell you <i>that</i>. It'll be a surprise."</p>
<p>"A surprise? Splendid, my boy! You could not, I suppose, drop me a
small hint? No? But of course not—one hint and my powerful Intellect
could guess everything—and then the surprise would be spoiled. Well,
until tomorrow, then!"</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image_161.jpg" width-obs="500" height-obs="296" alt="" /></div>
<p>That evening David shut himself in his room and robbed his bank. It
was a squat, cast-iron box, with "A Penny Saved Is A Penny Earned" in
raised letters on one side. The only way to open it was to smash it
with a crowbar, but it could be emptied. It had to be tilted just so,
with a knife blade in the slot to catch the coins and guide<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></SPAN></span> them out.
This is what David did, with a bread knife borrowed from the kitchen.
It was a slow, uncertain job, and one coin (he guessed it was a dime
by the way it rattled) never did come out. But the rest, which
included his change from Uncle Charles's present, would be enough.</p>
<p>Early next morning he went to the store and bought three large boxes
of stick cinnamon, two cans of powdered cinnamon, and a huge box of
matches. For the surprise he got a whole quart of strawberry ice
cream, with a piece of dry ice to keep it from melting. He wanted to
buy a cake, too, and candles, but there was not enough money left.
Then he remembered that a new batch of cookies had been baked at home
yesterday, which would have to do instead. He wrapped the cinnamon and
matches up in a neat package with white paper, tied it in a blue
ribbon, and wrote on it "To Feenix, Happy 500 Birthday, from David."
Then he took all the cookies from the jar, borrowed two plates and
spoons, put everything into a large paper bag, and set out for the
Phoenix's ledge.</p>
<p>He was surprised to find the Phoenix working busily in the middle of a
wide place on the ledge. Apparently the bird had been at it all night,
for a huge pile of sticks<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></SPAN></span> and brush had been heaped up on the ground
and shaped roughly like a nest. Right now the Phoenix was struggling
with a small log, trying to get it on the pile.</p>
<p>"Hello, Phoenix! Happy birthday!"</p>
<p>"Ah, there, my boy! Thank you very much. Could you kindly give me a
hand with this log?"</p>
<p>They heaved and grunted the piece of wood to the top of the pile, and
David said, "What's this for, Phoenix?"</p>
<p>"This, my boy, is a pyre. A bit untidy around the edges, but
nonetheless a pyre."</p>
<p>"Oh," said David. "What's that?"</p>
<p>"Well—a <i>pyre</i>, you know—a sort of fire, as it were."</p>
<p>"Oh, <i>fire</i>. I thought you said—oh, yes. Fire. Isn't it awfully
<i>warm</i> for a fire?"</p>
<p>"The weather <i>is</i> unusually tropical," said the Phoenix, cocking one
eye toward the sun. "This fire, however, is necessary—but I shall
explain later. Meanwhile, if you will just aid me with this branch—"
And for the next fifteen minutes they worked over the heap, adding to
it and shaping it up. David kept his thoughts to himself. He could see
that the Phoenix knew what it was doing, so everything must be all
right.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"By the way, my boy," said the Phoenix casually, when they had
finished, "my prediction was correct. I knew it would be. The
inevitable has occurred."</p>
<p>"What are you talking about, Phoenix?"</p>
<p>"The Scientist, my boy. He is in our midst once more."</p>
<p>David clutched a branch in the heap and said "Oh, Phoenix!" in a
frightened voice.</p>
<p>"Now, my dear fellow, there is no cause for alarm. He is not nearby at
present. I sent him back."</p>
<p>"Sent him back? How?"</p>
<p>"Nothing to it, my boy," said the Phoenix smugly. "He was up at the
crack of dawn, toiling with typical stupidity in full sight on the
slope below. He was making a blind of green branches to hide in while
he spies on me. (Really, the childishness of his efforts! To think for
a minute he could fool <i>me</i> with such tricks!) Well, I waited until he
had gone down the slope to cut more greenery, and when his back was
turned, I slipped down to the blind and took his binoculars."</p>
<p>"But Phoenix, what did you want with his binoculars?"</p>
<p>"I did not want his binoculars, my boy, but <i>he</i> did. His language
when he discovered the loss was simply<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></SPAN></span> frightful—I could hear it all
the way up here. Of course, he had to return to town for another
pair."</p>
<p>"But he'll be back!"</p>
<p>"Precisely, my boy. But he will have something to keep him busy when
he returns. I took the liberty of destroying his blind. <i>That</i> will
hold him."</p>
<p>"But it won't hold him long, Phoenix! We've got to think of something
else. Now your whole birthday is spoiled!"</p>
<p>"On the contrary, my boy, it will hold him long enough. Now please do
not ask me why; you must take my word for it, and I shall explain
later. And my birthday is <i>not</i> spoiled. I am looking forward with a
great deal of pleasure to the surprise which you promised me. Come,
let us enjoy it, whatever it is, and forget the Scientist."</p>
<p>"Well ... are you <i>sure</i> about the Scientist?"</p>
<p>"Absolutely."</p>
<p>The Phoenix was so positive that David began to feel better. He picked
up the paper bag and said: "Well, it isn't much of a surprise,
really—just a birthday party. And your present. But I think the
present should come after the party, don't you?"</p>
<p>"Quite so, my boy. But I shall leave the management of the whole
affair in your capable hands."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"All right," said David. "Now, you'll have to turn around, Phoenix,
and not look while I'm getting it ready."</p>
<p>The Phoenix obediently turned around, clasping its wings behind its
back, and tried hard not to peek. David set the party things out on
the grass: ice cream in the middle, the cookies in a ring around it,
plates on either side, and spoons beside the plates. He set the
Phoenix's present off to one side, where it could be reached when they
had finished.</p>
<p>"All right, Phoenix, you can turn around now."</p>
<p>The Phoenix took a long look at everything, and said huskily: "My dear
chap, this is quite the nicest moment of my life. How can I possibly
thank you?"</p>
<p>They sat down in their places. David passed the cookies and served the ice
cream, and said that as far as he was concerned, this was the best birthday
party he had ever been to. And the Phoenix said, "Quite so, my boy, but
might I make so bold as to ask why?" And David answered, "Well, the reason
is that usually during birthday parties you have to play stupid games, like
pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and button-button-who-has-the-button, in spite
of the fact that eating good things is the real reason for having a party,
as everybody knows." And the Phoenix said, "Precisely, my boy, but people
have somehow lost<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></SPAN></span> the main idea of the thing. When you come right down to
it, ice cream is the basis of any sensible party, and everything else is a
waste of time." And David said, "Yes, Phoenix, but don't forget cake and
cookies, and candy and nuts and things. They're not as good as ice cream,
but they're not a complete waste of time, either." And the Phoenix said,
"Of course not, my dear fellow, they are important too. And speaking of ice
cream, have you noticed that, while chocolate is very good, and vanilla
enjoys great popularity, still there is <i>nothing</i> like strawberry?" And
David said, "Yes, you're right"—rather sadly, because the Phoenix was
eating most of it.</p>
<p>At last the ice cream carton was empty and all the cookies were gone.
They both sighed regretfully and brushed away the crumbs. And the
Phoenix looked hopefully at the present David had brought.</p>
<p>"Happy birthday, Phoenix," David said, and he handed the gift over
with a little bow.</p>
<p>"Thank you, my boy, thank you." The Phoenix opened the package eagerly
and gave a pleased cry. "<i>Just</i> what I wanted, my dear chap!"</p>
<p>"I'm glad you like it," David said. "Do you know yet what it's for?
Can you really use it for something?"</p>
<p>The Phoenix suddenly stopped smiling and looked at<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></SPAN></span> David with a
strange expression on its face—an expression David had never seen
there before. A vague dread swept through him, and he faltered,
"Phoenix ... you <i>do</i> know what it's for? What is it? Tell me."</p>
<p>"Well, my boy—well, the fact <i>is</i>—yes, I do know. It came to me this
morning while I was constructing the—ah—nest, here. I am afraid it
will be a bit hard to explain. The cinnamon—ah—the cinnamon—well,
cinnamon <i>branches</i> are what I should really have...."</p>
<p>"But Phoenix, what's it <i>for</i>?"</p>
<p>"Behold, my boy." The Phoenix opened the boxes, and spread the
cinnamon sticks on the nest. Then it took the cans and sprinkled the
cinnamon powder over the top and sides of the heap, until the whole
nest was a brick-dust red.</p>
<p>"There we are, my boy," said the Phoenix sadly. "The traditional
cinnamon pyre of the Phoenix, celebrated in song and story."</p>
<p>And with the third mention of the word "pyre," David's legs went weak
and something seemed to catch in his throat. He remembered now where
he had heard that word before. It was in his book of explorers, and it
meant—it meant—</p>
<p>"Phoenix," he choked, "wh-wh-who is the pyre for?"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"For myself," said the Phoenix.</p>
<p>"<i>Phoenix!</i>"</p>
<p>"Now, I implore you—please—oh, dear, I <i>knew</i> it would be difficult
to explain. Look at me, my boy."</p>
<p>David did as he was told, although his eyes were filled with tears and
he could not see through the blur.</p>
<p>"Now," said the Phoenix gently, "the fact is that I have, besides my
unusually acute Intellect, an Instinct. This Instinct told me that it
was my birthday today. It also told me to build this nest of cinnamon.
Now it tells me that I must make this nest my pyre, because that is
what the Phoenix does at the end of five hundred years. Now, please,
my boy!—I admit it does not appear to be a very joyful way of
celebrating, but it must be done. This is the traditional end of the
Phoenix, my boy, and we cannot ignore the tradition, no matter what
our feelings may be. Do you see?"</p>
<p>"No!" David cried. "Please, Phoenix, don't do it! It's horrible! I
won't let you do it!"</p>
<p>"But I must, my dear chap! I cannot help it. This is what it means to
be the Phoenix. Nothing can stop the tradition. Please, my boy, do not
take on so! It is not in the least horrible, I assure you. My Instinct
tells me so."</p>
<p>"You said you were going to give me an education,"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></SPAN></span> David sobbed. "You
said we would see—you said—and we've only been on four
adventures—you never told me about this—"</p>
<p>"I am terribly sorry, my boy. I could not tell you about it because I
did not <i>know</i> about it until now. As for your education, it is a pity
to have it cut short in this way. I had great plans.... But
consider—you have had four adventures which no one else in the whole
world has had! And besides, my boy, we shall see each other again. I
do not know how or where, but I am positive of it." The Phoenix
flicked a tear from its eye with the tip of one wing, while with the
other it patted David awkwardly on the shoulder.</p>
<p>"Don't go, Phoenix, <i>please</i> don't go."</p>
<p>"I must, my boy. Here, permit me to present you with a small token
(ouch!) of our friendship."</p>
<p>Dimly, through his tears, David saw the Phoenix pluck the longest,
bluest feather from its tail, and he felt it being pressed into his
hand.</p>
<p>"Good-by, David," said the Phoenix gruffly.</p>
<p>David could stand it no longer. He turned and rushed blindly from the
Phoenix, blundered into the thicket, and dropped to the ground with
his head buried in his arms. Behind him he heard the sticks snapping
as<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></SPAN></span> the Phoenix mounted its pyre. A match rasped against the box. The
first tongue of flame sizzled in the branches. David pressed his hands
over his ears to shut out the sound, but he could feel the heat of the
flames as they sprang up. And the noise would not be shut out. It grew
and grew, popping, crackling, roaring, until it seemed to fill the
world....</p>
<hr style='width: 45%;' />
<p>Perhaps he fainted. Or perhaps from numbness he slipped into a kind of
deep sleep. Whichever it was, he returned to consciousness again
suddenly. His hands had slipped from his ears, and a sound had brought
him back. He lifted his head and listened. The fire had burnt itself
out now. The only noise was the hiss and pop of dying embers. But
these sounds were too gentle to have awakened him—it must have been
something else. Yes—it was a voice. He could hear it quite plainly
now. There were angry shouts coming from somewhere below the ledge.</p>
<p>Carefully avoiding the sight of the pyre, David crawled to the edge
and glanced over. Far down, on the slope at the foot of the scarp, was
a tiny figure dancing and bellowing with rage. The Scientist had
returned and discovered the ruins of his blind. David watched him<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></SPAN></span>
dully. No need to worry about <i>him</i> any more. How harmless he looked
now, even ridiculous! David turned away.</p>
<p>He noticed then that he was holding something in his hand, something
soft and heavy. As he lifted it to look more closely, it flashed in
the sunlight. It was the feather the Phoenix had given him, the tail
feather. Tail feather?... But the Phoenix's tail had been a sapphire
blue. The feather in his hand was of the purest, palest gold.</p>
<p>There was a slight stir behind him. In spite of himself, he glanced at
the remains of the pyre. His mouth dropped open. In the middle of the
white ashes and glowing coals there was movement. Something within was
struggling up toward the top. The noises grew stronger and more
definite. Charred sticks were being snapped, ashes kicked aside,
embers pushed out of the way. Now, like a plant thrusting its way out
of the soil, there appeared something pale and glittering, which
nodded in the breeze. Little tongues of flame, it seemed, licking out
into the air.... No, not flames! A crest of golden feathers!... A
heave from below lifted the ashes in the center of the pile, a fine
cloud of flakes swirled up into the breeze, there was a flash of
sunlight glinting on brilliant plumage. And from the ruins of the pyre
stepped forth a magnificent bird.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>It was the Phoenix, it must be the Phoenix! But it was a new and
different Phoenix. It was young and wild, with a fierce amber eye; its
crest was tall and proud, its body the slim, muscular body of a
hunter, its wings narrow and long and pointed like a falcon's, the
great beak and talons razor-sharp and curving. And all of it, from
crest to talons, was a burnished gold that reflected the sun in a
thousand dazzling lights.</p>
<p>The bird stretched its wings, shook the ash from its tail, and began
to preen itself. Every movement was like the flash of a silent
explosion.</p>
<p>"Phoenix," David whispered. "Phoenix."</p>
<p>The bird started, turned toward him, looked at him for an instant with
wild, fearless eyes, then continued its preening. Suddenly it stopped
and cocked its head as if listening to something. Then David heard it
too: a shout down the mountainside, louder and clearer now, excited
and jubilant. He shivered and looked down. The Scientist was tearing
up the goat trail as fast as his long legs would carry him—and he was
waving a rifle.</p>
<p>"Phoenix!" David cried. "Fly! Fly, Phoenix!"</p>
<p>The bird looked at the Scientist, then at David, its glance curious
but without understanding. Paralyzed with fear, David remained on his
knees as the Scientist reached<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></SPAN></span> an open place and threw the gun up to
his shoulder. The bullet went whining by with an ugly hornet-noise,
and the report of the gun echoed along the scarp.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image_174.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="630" alt="" /></div>
<p>"Fly, Phoenix!" David sobbed. A second bullet snarled at the bird, and
spattered out little chips of rock from the inner wall of the ledge.</p>
<p>"Oh, fly, fly!" David jumped up and flung himself<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></SPAN></span> between the bird
and the Scientist. "It's me!" he cried. "It's David!" The bird gazed
at him closely, and a light flickered in its eye as though the name
had reached out and almost, but not quite, touched an ancient memory.
Hesitantly it stretched forth one wing, and with the tip of it lightly
brushed David's forehead, leaving there a mark that burned coolly.</p>
<p>"<i>Get away from that bird, you little idiot!</i>" the Scientist shrieked.
"<i>GET AWAY!</i>"</p>
<p>David ignored him. "Fly, Phoenix!" he cried, and he pushed the bird
toward the edge.</p>
<p>Understanding dawned in the amber eyes at last. The bird, with one
clear, defiant cry, leaped to an out-jutting boulder. The golden wings
spread, the golden neck curved back, the golden talons pushed against
the rock. The bird launched itself into the air and soared out over
the valley, sparkling, flashing, shimmering; a flame, large as a
sunburst, a meteor, a diamond, a star, diminishing at last to a speck
of gold dust, which glimmered twice in the distance before it was gone
altogether.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><i>The Author</i></h2>
<h2>Edward Ormondroyd</h2>
<p>When Edward Ormondroyd was about thirteen, his family moved from
Pennsylvania to Ann Arbor, Michigan. He and a friend began to read
Arthur Ransome's boating stories and, inspired by the adventures of
the Swallows, built their own fourteen-foot sailboat and tried to
re-create that English magic on the Huron River.</p>
<p>In 1943 he graduated from high school and joined the Navy. Destroyer
Escort 419 was his home for the next two years. "When the war was
over, she looked in on China and Korea, and came home. She did show me
San Francisco Bay at dusk. One look convinced me that I would like to
live by it; and I have, ever since."</p>
<p>After the war, Mr. Ormondroyd went to the University of California at
Berkeley. He graduated in 1951, and since then has been busy writing,
sailing as able seaman aboard a tanker, and working as a bookstore
clerk and machine tender. He lives in Berkeley, California. He is
married and has one son.</p>
<p>It was while Mr. Ormondroyd was at college that David and the Phoenix
first intruded into his consciousness. "<i>One day, when I was walking
across campus, I had a sudden vision of a large and pompous bird
diving out of a window, tripping on the sill, and falling into a rose
arbor below. I had to explain to myself why the poor bird was in such
a situation in the first place, and what became of it afterwards. The
result of my investigation was</i> <span class="smcap">David and the Phoenix</span>."</p>
<hr style='width: 65%;' />
<h2>David and<br/> the Phoenix</h2>
<h3>Edward Ormondroyd</h3>
<h3><i>Illustrated by Joan Raysor</i></h3>
<p>David knew that one should be prepared for anything when one climbs a
mountain, but he never dreamed what he would find that June morning on
the mountain ledge.</p>
<p>There stood an enormous bird, with a head like an eagle, a neck like a
swan, and a scarlet crest. The most astonishing thing was that the
bird had an open book on the ground and was reading from it!</p>
<p>This was David's first sight of the fabulous Phoenix and the beginning
of a pleasant and profitable partnership. The Phoenix found a great
deal lacking in David's education—he flunked questions like "How do
you tell a true from a false Unicorn?"—and undertook to supplement it
with a practical education, an education that would be a preparation
for Life. The education had to be combined with offensive and
defensive measures against a Scientist who was bent on capturing the
Phoenix, but the two projects together involved exciting and hilarious
adventures for boy and bird.</p>
<p>A wonderful read-aloud book, adventurous and very funny, with much of
the magic as well as the humor of the fantastic.</p>
<h3> <i>Follett Publishing Company</i></h3>
<h3> <i>New York</i> <span class="smcap">CHICAGO</span> <i>Toronto</i> </h3>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />