"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."
"But Phoenix, what did you want with his binoculars?"
"I did not want his binoculars, my boy, but he did. His language when he discovered the loss was simply frightful—I could hear it all the way up here. Of course, he had to return to town for another pair."
"But he'll be back!"
"Precisely, my boy. But he will have something to keep him busy when he returns. I took the liberty of destroying his blind. That will hold him."
"But it won't hold him long, Phoenix! We've got to think of something else. Now your whole birthday is spoiled!"
"On the contrary, my boy, it will hold him long enough. Now please do not ask me why; you must take my word for it, and I shall explain later. And my birthday is not spoiled. I am looking forward with a great deal of pleasure to the surprise which you promised me. Come, let us enjoy it, whatever it is, and forget the Scientist."
"Well ... are you sure about the Scientist?"
"Absolutely."
The Phoenix was so positive that David began to feel better. He picked up the paper bag and said: "Well, it isn't much of a surprise, really—just a birthday party. And your present. But I think the present should come after the party, don't you?"