To keep himself occupied, David explored the cave. But there was nothing to see. The cave was small and bare. He tested the walls thoroughly to see if there were any places where they might dig their way out. There were none. His feet raised a cloud of fine dust, which got into his eyes and nose and made him sneeze violently. Discouraged, he went back to the Phoenix and sat down. There was a long silence.
Gradually an idea came to David. It started as a small, faint thought at the back of his mind, wavered, began to grow and expand and fill out—became bigger and clearer and better and—
"Phoenix!" cried David, jumping to his feet.
"My boy, my very dear boy," said the Phoenix, its voice breaking with emotion, "I have Thought, I have Pondered, I have—well, to be brief, it is no use. Stiff upper lip, my boy! We are Doomed."
"Phoenix, I—"
"Let this be a lesson to you, my boy, even though it be your last one. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Ah! who could have said, in the golden days of my youth, that I should come to such an end! Oh, miserable bird! Oh, unhappy boy!"
"But we can show them how to die, my boy! We still have that—the last magnificent gesture. Let those who have lived wisely and well show that they can die in the same way! I hope I am to go first, so that you may have an example to follow."
"Phoenix!"
"My boy?"