Wet and tired from splashing in the pool, they stretched out in the sun to dry. A grapevine grew near them, and they gorged themselves on the fruit, smearing their faces and hands with purple. And David closed his eyes and thought, "Now I'm having a dream, and so is the Phoenix. We're all dreaming the same thing and living in the dream, and I wish--oh, I wish none of us will ever wake up!" But he had just opened his eyes again when the Faun leaped to his feet and cried "Listen!" and flicked his pointed ears forward like a cat. David stood up and said in a puzzled voice, "I don't hear anything." He noticed that the Phoenix had also got up, and was listening uncomfortably to whatever it was. "Listen! Oh, listen!" cried the Faun. There was a joyous light in his eyes as he leaned forward with his lips slightly parted, straining toward the mysterious silence. Suddenly he shouted, "I'm coming, I'm coming!" and dashed off into the wood. "Good heavens," muttered the Phoenix. "I had forgotten about--this. Let us go home, my boy." A strange, uncontrollable trembling had seized David's legs. He still could hear nothing, but some feeling, some hint of an unknown, tremendous event hung quivering in the air about them and sent little electric thrills racing up and down his whole body. "Oh, Phoenix, what is it, what is it?" he whispered. "I think we had best be going, my boy," said the Phoenix anxiously. "Come along." "Phoenix--" But he heard it now. It came whispering toward them, the sound of pipes caroling--pipes such as the Faun had played, but greater, as an organ is greater than a flute. The wild, sweet sound rose and fell, swelled like a full choir, diminished into one soprano voice that pierced David through and through, caressing and tugging, calling, "Come ... come ... run ... run...." "Phoenix!" David cried. "Oh, Phoenix, listen, listen!" "Run ... run ..." the pipes whispered. "Let us go home, my boy," said the Phoenix warningly. "Come ... come ..." cried the pipes. They could be resisted no longer. In a transport of joy, David shouted "I'm coming!" and raced away toward the sound. There was nothing in his mind now, nothing in the whole world, but a desire to be near those pipes. He must run like the winds, leap and shout, roll in the grass, throw himself down flowered slopes, follow that magic music wherever it should lead. He fled blindly through the wood, heedless of the branches which whipped his face and the thorns which tore at his legs. The pipes were calling more loudly now: "Run ... run ... faster ... faster...." Then the Phoenix plunged to earth in front of him, threw out both wings, and shouted "Stop!" "Let me go, Phoenix!" David cried. "Let me by! I want to run, I must run!"