ncing and bellowing with rage. The Scientist had
returned and discovered the ruins of his blind. David watched him
dully. No need to worry about _him_ any more. How harmless he looked
now, even ridiculous! David turned away.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"Phoenix," David whispered. "Phoenix."

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 r