n and gold glowed in the last rays of the
setting sun. His head was drooping, and his eye lustreless. The joy of
life was gone. Slowly the Sun sank towards the horizon, a red eye fixed
upon the Phoenix steadily. Suddenly across the gray waste of sand
dotted a beam of light, intensely bright. A single ray from that
watchful Eye seemed to flame as it reached the palm tree and pierced to
the very heart of the Phoenix. A thrill ran through his body. He drew
himself together, and his eye gleamed with new lustre as he fixed it
steadily upon the dazzling disk just touching the horizon. Dark stood
the palm against the desert, but the Phoenix was bathed in sudden
light. It was the signal, the signal for which he had been waiting,
though he knew it not. The five hundred years were ended. The mystery of
his life was about to be solved.

As the sun sank below the horizon, eagerly the Phoenix set about the
task which was before him. At last he might build the nest which till
now he had never known. On the top of the highest palm he would build
it, that it might receive from the blessed East the first beam of the
morning sun. Marvelously strengthened for the task, back and forth to
the ends of the earth his wings of crimson and gold bore the Phoenix
that night. For this was to be no nest of sticks and straw. Of precious
things must it be made, and well he knew where such were to be found. Of
silky leaves and grass interwoven with splinters of sandal-wood were the
walls. Then on the bottom of the nest he laid, bit by bit, a pile of
sweet-smelling gums, cinnamon and spice, spikenard, myrrh, camphor,
ambergris, and frankincense, with no meaner choice.

All night he labored, beak and talon, until the nest was ready. And as
the first tints of dawn began to streak the east, the Phoenix rose
once, high into the air, gazing with wistful eyes over the world which
he had loved; then, slowly sinking to the palm, he poised his gorgeous
body upon the fragrant nest. With wings spread wide, and eyes fixed
eagerly upon the spot where the Sun was sure to rise, he waited, waited.

At last the golden Eye appeared. As on the night before, one radiant
beam seemed to single out the lonely palm. One shaft of flame pierced to
the nest whereon the Phoenix sat. It was the final signal to the Bird
of the Sun. Immediately the great bird began to fan the sweet-smelling
mass with his wings. The burning ray grew brighter,--a pungent,
wonderful aroma of mingled f