, closing its
eyes.

"Oh, Phoenix, what happened? Can I do anything for you?" David
whispered.

"A damp, cooling cloth upon my forehead would be welcome, my boy,"
murmured the Phoenix. "Also a bit of nourishment."

David slid down the bannister, got a handful of cookies and a glass of
milk, and dampened a dish towel. When he returned, the Phoenix was
fast asleep.

"Phoenix," he whispered, "wake up. Here's your--"

The Phoenix awoke with a violent start and stared wildly around the
room. "Trapped!" it muttered, making a frenzied effort to get off the
bed.

"Not so _loud_!" David whispered sharply. "It's me!"

Understanding dawned in the Phoenix's eyes, and it eased itself back
with a sigh. "Ah, you, my boy. You gave me quite a fright. I
thought--" But here the Phoenix caught sight of the milk and cookies
and sat up again.

"Ambrosia," it sighed reverently. "And nectar. You _are_ a prince, my
dear fellow!" And the Phoenix reached out eagerly.

"Now, Phoenix," David whispered as he wrapped the wet towel around the
Phoenix's head, "what's happened?"

"Ah, that feels heavenly, my boy! (Munch munch.) What has happened?
(Munch munch. Gulp.) I was insulted, I accepted a challenge, and I
brilliantly maintained my honor. Let that be a lesson to you, my boy:
death before dishonor. Yes, in spite of my age, I--"

"But Phoenix, what _happened_?"

"To be brief, then, my boy, for brevity is the soul of wit--although I am
not trying to be witty now; I am simply too worn out--Brevity--ah--where
was I?"

"I _think_ you were telling me what happened to you tonight," David
said.

"Ah, yes, quite so! Well, I raced the Witch, to put it quite simply."

"Oh, Phoenix! Did you win?"

"She said that she would 'beat my tail feathers off,' did she not?
Behold, my dear fellow--every tail feather intact!"

"Good for you, Phoenix! How did it go?"

"I found her somewhere over Scotland and accepted her challenge. We
jockeyed about for starting positions, and she insulted me by offering
me a handicap--which, of course, I refused. For several hundred miles
it was nip and tuck, as it were. Then, over Luxembourg, I put all my
energies into a magnificent sprint and won the race by three and a
half broom lengths. She claimed a foul and went off in a fit of sulks,
of course. (I never saw a Witch who was a good loser.) And I--well,
the fact is, my boy, that I am not as young as I used to be. I simply
_crawled_ home."

"Oh, you poor Ph