ls and walked along the hedge to the telephone
pole, which was in one corner of the yard. The Phoenix began to
uncoil the wire, while David gazed up doubtfully at the shadowy maze
of lines and insulators on the cross-arms.

"Electricity," said the Phoenix thoughtfully, "is a complicated and
profound subject. There are amperes, and there are volts, and there
are kilowatt hours. I might also mention positive and negative
and--ah--all that sort of thing. Most profound. Perhaps I had better
investigate up there. Screw driver, please."

The Phoenix took the screw driver in one claw and flew up to the top
of the pole. David could hear the creak of the lines under the
Phoenix's weight and the rattling of the screw driver against the
porcelain insulators. For some minutes the Phoenix investigated,
clicking and scraping about, and muttering "Quite so" and "_There_ we
are." Then it fluttered down again and rubbed its wings together.

"The whole situation up there is a lot simpler than I thought it would
be, my boy. The power lines merely come up to the pole on one side,
pass through the insulators, and go away from the pole on the other
side. Child's play! The covering on the lines is rather tough,
however. We shall have to use the wire-cutters."

The Phoenix returned to the top of the pole with the cutters, and
worked on the wires for five more minutes. Bits of debris began to
shower down on the hedge. One of the wires vibrated on a low note like
a slack guitar string.

"We must not forget the difference between alternating and direct
current, my boy," said the Phoenix as it flew down again. "An
important problem, that. Where is our wire? Ah, there we are. The
pliers, please."

"Do you need any help up there?" David asked.

"No, everything is coming along beautifully, thank you. I shall have
everything finished in a flash."

Trailing one end of the wire in its beak, the Phoenix flew up into the
darkness once more. The tinkering sounds began again, and a spurt of
falling debris rattled in the leaves of the hedge.

Suddenly it happened. There was a terrific burst of blue light, a
sharp squawk from the Phoenix, and a shower of sparks. Another blue
flash blazed up. The lights in the house, and down the whole street,
flickered and went out. In the blackness which followed, each stage of
the Phoenix's descent could be heard as clearly as cannon shots: the
twanging and snapping as it tumbled through the wires, a drawn-out
s