rst."

"You might have brought more," said the Phoenix, fifteen minutes
later.

"There weren't any more in the jar," David said. "Phoenix, please tell
me what we're going to do. I don't care if curiosity _did_ kill the
cat. I've been thinking about the rope and wire and bell all night,
and I can't make heads or tails out of it."

The Phoenix gave a pleased laugh. "Of course you cannot, my boy. The
Plan is far too profound for you to guess what it is. But set your
mind at rest. I shall now explain the rope and hatchet."

David leaned forward eagerly.

"Now, scientists, you know, have fixed habits. If you know those
habits, you can predict just what they will do at any time. Our
particular Scientist is a daytime creature--that is to say, he comes
at dawn and goes at dusk. His invariable habit, my boy!"

"Well?"

"There you are, my boy!" said the Phoenix triumphantly. "_We shall
sleep during the day and continue your education at night!_"

"Oh," said David. He thought about this a while, then asked, "But
suppose the Scientist comes up on the ledge during the day and catches
you asleep?"

"Aha! That is where the rope and hatchet come in. Never fear, my
boy--I thought of that also. We are going to construct a snare at each
end of the ledge."

"How?"

"Hand me that twig, my boy." The Phoenix took the twig, found a bare
spot of earth, and sketched a picture. "First we find a sapling and
clear the branches from it with the hatchet--like this. Next we get a
stake, cut a notch in it, and drive it into the ground--so. The
sapling is bent down to it and fitted into the notch, which holds it
down. You see, my boy? Now we make a noose--so--from a piece of rope,
tie it to the end of the sapling, and spread the loop out on the
path--this way. The whole snare is hidden under grass and leaves." The
Phoenix beamed and flung out its wings in a dramatic gesture. "Just
picture it, my dear chap! The Scientist, smiling evilly as he skulks
along the path! The unwary footstep! The sapling, jarred out of the
notch, springing upward! The tightened noose! And our archenemy
dangling by the foot in mid-air, completely at our mercy!
Magnificent!"

"Golly, Phoenix," said David, "that's pretty clever."

"_Clever_, my boy? Better to say 'a stroke of genius.' Only I,
Phoenix, could have thought of it. And consider the poetic justice of
it! This is exactly the sort of trap that the Scientist once set for
me! Well, shall we begin?"

[Il