The Phoenix opened the package eagerly
and gave a pleased cry. "_Just_ what I wanted, my dear chap!"

"I'm glad you like it," David said. "Do you know yet what it's for?
Can you really use it for something?"

The Phoenix suddenly stopped smiling and looked at 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 _do_ know what it's for? What is it? Tell me."

"Well, my boy--well, the fact _is_--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 _branches_ are what I should really have...."

"But Phoenix, what's it _for_?"

"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.

"There we are, my boy," said the Phoenix sadly. "The traditional
cinnamon pyre of the Phoenix, celebrated in song and story."

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--

"Phoenix," he choked, "wh-wh-who is the pyre for?"

"For myself," said the Phoenix.

"_Phoenix!_"

"Now, I implore you--please--oh, dear, I _knew_ it would be difficult
to explain. Look at me, my boy."

David did as he was told, although his eyes were filled with tears and
he could not see through the blur.

"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?"

"No!" David cried. "Please, Phoenix, don't do it! It's horrible! I
won't let you do it!"

"But I must, my dear chap! I cannot help it. This is what it means to
be the Phoenix. Nothing can stop the tr