Early next morning he went to the store and bought three large boxes of stick cinnamon, two cans of powdered cinnamon, and a huge box of matches. For the surprise he got a whole quart of strawberry ice cream, with a piece of dry ice to keep it from melting. He wanted to buy a cake, too, and candles, but there was not enough money left. Then he remembered that a new batch of cookies had been baked at home yesterday, which would have to do instead. He wrapped the cinnamon and matches up in a neat package with white paper, tied it in a blue ribbon, and wrote on it "To Feenix, Happy 500 Birthday, from David." Then he took all the cookies from the jar, borrowed two plates and spoons, put everything into a large paper bag, and set out for the Phoenix's ledge. He was surprised to find the Phoenix working busily in the middle of a wide place on the ledge. Apparently the bird had been at it all night, for a huge pile of sticks and brush had been heaped up on the ground and shaped roughly like a nest. Right now the Phoenix was struggling with a small log, trying to get it on the pile. "Hello, Phoenix! Happy birthday!" "Ah, there, my boy! Thank you very much. Could you kindly give me a hand with this log?" They heaved and grunted the piece of wood to the top of the pile, and David said, "What's this for, Phoenix?" "This, my boy, is a pyre. A bit untidy around the edges, but nonetheless a pyre." "Oh," said David. "What's that?" "Well--a _pyre_, you know--a sort of fire, as it were." "Oh, _fire_. I thought you said--oh, yes. Fire. Isn't it awfully _warm_ for a fire?" "The weather _is_ unusually tropical," said the Phoenix, cocking one eye toward the sun. "This fire, however, is necessary--but I shall explain later. Meanwhile, if you will just aid me with this branch--" And for the next fifteen minutes they worked over the heap, adding to it and shaping it up. David kept his thoughts to himself. He could see that the Phoenix knew what it was doing, so everything must be all right. "By the way, my boy," said the Phoenix casually, when they had finished, "my prediction was correct. I knew it would be. The inevitable has occurred." "What are you talking about, Phoenix?" "The Scientist, my boy. He is in our midst once more." David clutched a branch in the heap and said "Oh, Phoenix!" in a frightened voice. "Now, my dear fellow, there is no cause for alarm. He is not nearby at present. I sent him back." "Sent him back? How?" "Nothing to it, my boy," said the Phoenix smugly. "He was up at the crack of dawn, toiling with typical stupidity in full sight on the slope below. He was making a blind of green branches to hide in while he spies on me. (Really, the childishness of his efforts! To think for a minute he could fool _me_ with such tricks!) Well, I waited until he had gone down the slope to cut more greenery, and when his back was turned, I slipped down to the blind and took his binoculars."