"Do not be so dense, my dear fellow. I shall carry you on my back, of course."

"Oh," said David weakly, "on your--on your back. Are you sure that--isn't there some other--I mean, can you do it?"

The Phoenix drew itself up to its full height. "I am hurt--yes, deeply hurt--by your lack of faith. My magnificent build should make it evident that I am an exceedingly powerful flyer. In the heyday of my youth I could fly around the world in five hours. But come along. I shall give you proof positive."

David reluctantly followed the Phoenix to a spot on the edge of the shelf where there was a gap in the bushes. He glanced over the brink. The sheer face of the scarp fell away beneath them, plunging down to the tiny trees and rocks below. He stepped back quickly with a shudder.

"Let's--let's do it tomorrow," he quavered.

"Nonsense," said the Phoenix firmly. "No time like the present. Now, then, up on my back."

"H-h-how am I going to sit?"

"On my back. Quite so--now, your arms around my neck--your legs behind my wings, please--there we are. Ready?"

"No," said David faintly.

"Splendid! The proof is to be demonstrated, the--to be brief, we are off!"

The great wings were outstretched. David gulped, clutched the Phoenix's neck tightly, and shut his eyes. He felt a hopping sensation, then a long, sickening downward swoop that seemed to leave his stomach far behind. A tremendous rush of air snatched at his shirt. He opened his eyes and choked with fright. The ground below was rushing up to meet them, swaying and revolving. Something was terribly wrong. The Phoenix was breathing in hoarse gasps; its wings were pounding the air frantically. Now they had turned back. The scarp loomed before them, solid and blank. Above them--high above them--was the ledge. It looked as though they would not get back to it. Up ... up ... up.... They crawled through the air. The wings flapped wildly, faster and faster. They were gaining--slipping back--gaining again. The Phoenix sobbed as it stretched its neck in the last effort. Fifty feet ... twenty feet ... ten.... With a tremendous surge of its wings, the Phoenix managed to get one claw over the edge and to seize the branch of a bush in its beak. David's legs slipped from the bird's back. He dangled over the abyss from the outstretched neck, and prayed. The bush saved them. They scrabbled up over the 

 Prev. P 14/81 next