The floor under David seemed to rock. It was true, then--it was horribly true. This was the Scientist who had been chasing the Phoenix. This was their enemy. "Bird?" David dodged. "Wh-wh-why, there are lots of birds up there. Sparrows and meadow larks and--and sparrows...." "But nothing like a huge bird with bright feathers?" Well, he would have to tell a lie. After all, it was for the Phoenix's sake. "No," said David. "Ah," said the Scientist. But his cold eyes bored into David's for another instant, plainly saying, "I'm not fooled, young man." "It's odd," he continued, "that no one has seen it. But I have no doubt it's somewhere here. I am going to begin my search as soon as my equipment gets here." "Tell us about it," said Mother politely. "Well, I discovered it on the other side of the valley, you know," said the Scientist eagerly. "Quite by accident--I was really looking for another species. Now, birds, you know, have fixed habits. If you know those habits, you can predict just what they will do at any time. This particular bird was a daytime creature, so I tried to watch it between dawn and dusk. But it seemed to have a mind of its own--you might almost say an intelligence. It avoided me in a very clever way, and it avoided my traps also. Uncanny! So after several weeks I decided to shoot it if I got the chance. Then suddenly it disappeared, but I'm certain it came over to this side of the valley--" There was no escape from the subject during dinner. The Scientist could think and talk of nothing else. He described the merits of deadfalls, snares, steel traps, and birdlime. He asked which they thought would make the best bait, a rabbit, a beefsteak, a live lamb, or carrion. He told them all about the new high-powered, long-range rifle which he had ordered. And he vowed to them all that he would not rest until the bird was either caught or killed "for the advancement of human learning." David listened with horror. The dinner before him went untouched. His only thought was that now he would have to warn the Phoenix as soon as possible. The Phoenix would go to South America after all, and his education would end before it had even started. All because of this hateful man! He fought to hold back his tears. Dinner was over at last. David mumbled his excuses and ducked out of the dining room, but Aunt Amy seized him firmly just as he thought he had got away. "Bedtime for you, David," she said firmly. "Oh, Aunt Amy, please! I've got to--" "Upstairs, young man. You've had enough gallivanting around for one day. You're all worn out." "I'm _not_!" said David, struggling. "I feel fine. Look, I just _have_ to--" It was useless. She marched him upstairs to his room and stood in the doorway until he had undressed and put on his pajamas and got into bed. "Now," she said, "you go to sleep. The mountain will still be there in the morning--unless there's a landslide. Good night." And she turned out the light and shut the door.