But he found the ledge at last, climbed over the final difficult rock,
and sat down to catch his breath. When he could speak, he called
softly:

"Phoenix!"

There was no answer.

"Phoenix!" He pushed through the thicket to the other side of the
ledge. "_Phoenix!_"

The Phoenix was gone.

The tears that had been stopped up all evening could be held no
longer. David dropped to the ground, leaned his forehead against a
rock, and let them go. He had just remembered. As soon as they had
come back from the Gryffon adventure, the Phoenix had flown off on
some sort of business. And it had not said when it would return.

The tears cleared David's mind and made him feel better. Now what? He
began to think. If he stayed on the ledge all night, they might find
out at home and make a terrible fuss. But if he did not warn the
Phoenix before morning, the Scientist might creep up while the bird
was resting and trap it or shoot it. So he would have to warn the
Phoenix _and_ return home. And the only way to do both these things
was to write the Phoenix a note.

But he had neither paper nor pencil.

A fine mess he had made of everything! Now he would have to go all the
way back home, write the note, come all the way back up to the ledge,
and then go home again.

David trudged down the mountainside in a very low mood. Now that he
had a definite plan to work on, his fear was gone, but he felt that he
had been pretty stupid to rush off without thinking of everything
first. In his mind he could hear the Phoenix saying, "Look before you
leap, my boy," and other wise words of advice. And he had cried, too.
Lucky that no one had been there to see _that_.

* * * * *

As he approached the house he was surprised to see all the lights
ablaze and to hear his name being called. "Oh-oh," he thought,
"they've found out I've gone."

"Here I am!" he shouted, opening the door. "What's the matter?"

It was a strange sight which met him inside. Dad, in his gray pajamas,
was waving a revolver and making fierce noises. Mother, looking
frightened, had a shoe in one hand. Aunt Amy, with her hair in rags,
was also well-armed--with a big cast-iron frying pan. Beckie was
howling upstairs.

"David!" Mother cried. "Are you all right? Where have you been? Did he
hurt you?"

"Who?" said David. "I'm all right. What's the matter?"

"The burglar!" said Mother excitedly. "He put his head in the window
and said '_pssss