Chapter the 30th
“Where did Shawn go?” asked Princess Mona.
“And where’s the phoenix fallen off to?” asked Edmund.
“Shawn turned back into a little spark, I think,” said Nigel.
“I-it looked like the phoenix swallowed the spark,” said Scott.
“Good way to handle an obnoxious king,” said King Perezvon XXVI. “We’d better waste no more time boarding this train if we’re going to be on it when Humphrey the Bullfrog makes it roll.”
Scott felt weird, thinking about Shawn turning into a spark and getting swallowed by the phoenix, but he didn’t see what he could be about it besides feel weird. He followed the others along the strands of Melanie’s Web that the train’s wheels rested on, with the king leading, until they reached the luxury car. Already, the train was moving slightly forward in jerks. Looking up toward the rear of the train, Scott saw a fiery light in front of the caboose that he knew could be only one thing.
“Look!” Scott cried. “The phoenix is going to lead this train!”
“Wow!” cried Edmund. “I’ll bet this is the first time in all history that a phoenix has lead a train along rails laid out by Melanie the Web Spinner.”
“Keep your history lessons for yourself and get aboard this train,” King Perezvon XXVI ordered.
“We can share history lessons and board this train at the same time,” said Nigel.
Edmund jumped up to the luxury car ahead of everybody else.
“See?” said Edmund. “I gave you a history lesson and I still got aboard this train ahead of you.”
“It is most improper to board a train ahead of your royal monarch,” grumbled the king.
“No, it is most proper for a subject to board a train ahead of his royal monarch so that he can assist his royal monarch in boarding the train,” Nigel pointed out.
“Well, if you put it that way. . .” said King Perezvon XXVI.
True to Nigel’s word, Edmund helped the king climb aboard and then assisted Princess Mona in a similar way. Scott waited for last, and he struggled up the steps with his limp. The train moved forward just as he placed his front foot into the car. That made him fear once again that his lameness would strand him in the middle of nowhere some day. Then he had a better look at the disarray inside the car he had only glimpsed before. The purplish light from Melanie’s Web outside the car combined with a sickly greenish light to show some extent of the damage the car had suffered. Chairs and tables had been upended and dishes were broken with food and drink spilled all over the floor.
“This car looks like a pack of wolves had a new year’s party in here!” Edmund exclaimed.
A deep growl from the far end of the car responded to that remark. Everybody froze close to the door, poised to run for the next car if necessary.
“Who, or what, is in the royal car without my permission?” King Perezvon asked in his most officious tone of voice.
The king’s words were met with a scraping sound from the far corner of the car. A large shadowy being with two greenish eyes moved and loped its way to the front end of the car.
“So!” said the king, “It’s just an animal!”
“An animal with teeth sharp enough to eat us all!” added Edmund.
Scott shrank back until he recognized the animal, but he didn’t relax, even when Nigel stepped toward the wolf. The train jerked forward again, causing everybody to fight to stay on their feet.
“Nigel!” cried the king, “you are the most reckless chorister my kingdom has ever known!”
“Don’t you know who this is?” asked Nigel as he stroked the wolf’s fur. “It is with great pleasure that I introduce Your Royal Highness King Perezvon XXVI to Fenrir.”
“Never heard of him,” muttered the king.
“And I suppose you never listened to Grandmother’s stories about him,” said Mona.
“I never thought that listening to stories would help me run a kingdom,” the king retorted.
“You would have saved the kingdom a lot of trouble if you’d known more stories than you do,” said Nigel.
“Are you hinting that there are any shortcomings on the part of the monarch of Carlin?” asked King Perezvon XXVI in a threatening voice.
“Yes,” said Nigel.
“And well he should!” Mona reproved her father.
“Now I understand why you didn’t like it when I said this car looked like a bunch of wolves had a new year’s party in here,” said Edmund to the wolf. “I’m sorry I said that, Fenrir.”
The wolf growled softly to accept the apology.
“And why does Fenrir refuse to speak like a civilized creature?” asked King Perezvon.
“I think that is because Fenrir has a mouth filled with light,” said Nigel. “Isn’t that your job? To swallow the light?”
The wolf grunted affirmatively.
“So he’s the culprit!” cried the king. “Fenrir, I order you, by royal decree, to open your mouth and give us back the light!”
“Don’t do it, Fenrir!” Edmund cried.
“Since when does a junior chorister dare to countermand a royal order?” the king thundered.
“Don’t blame Edmund,” said Mona. “I hereby use my authority as the Crown Princess to countermand my father’s royal decree.”
“Edmund is right,” said Nigel. “And I’m not just saying that because he’s my friend, and I’m not just saying because I’m head chorister. I’m saying it because Edmund is right.”
“Doesn’t Fenrir swallow the light when the world comes to an end so that there will be light when the next world starts up?” asked Scott.
“Something like that,” said Nigel.
“I’m sure Fenrir will open his mouth and let all the light back out when it’s safe to do it,” said Edmund.
“And that means the light is safe from them as long as Fenrir keeps his mouth shut, is that right?” suggested Scott.
“It sure is nice to have a friend like you stick up for a couple of choristers when the king wants to roast them alive for saving the kingdom in spite of his royal highness,” said Nigel.
King Perezvon XXVI began to growl as if he were a wolf himself. The train inched forward, obviously strained in its efforts.
“Don’t say it, royal father!” Mona admonished him hastily. “I suggest that the royal choristers do what they can to make seats available to the two members of the royal family who are riding this train.”
Nigel and Edmund promptly picked up two chairs and placed them for King Perezvon XXVI and Princess Mona to sit in. Scott’s bad foot ached, and he looked for a chair he could pick up for himself. The chair closest to him had a dark liquid spilled all over it.
“Here’s one for you, Scott,” said Nigel, indicating a chair he had just cleaned off. “You need to get off your feet right away.”
“Thank you,” said Scott, grateful that Nigel had remembered his little handicap.
Nigel and Edmund found places for themselves on the floor, with Edmund putting an arm around Fenrir’s neck.
“Who is this boy, Shawn, who thinks he’s the King of Corelee?” asked the king. “Can any of you tell your royal monarch whom he is up against?”
“When I first saw him, I thought it was Michael,” said Edmund. “But it isn’t.”
“He’s someone just as antisocial as Michael,” said Mona. “Michael wouldn’t even push my brother on a swing set when it could have helped our kingdom ever so much. I’m sure that Shawn wouldn’t push anybody on a swing in a million years.”
“I think Michael is more apt to do something to help us these days than he used to be,” said Scott.
“Like what?” asked Mona. “What is he doing to help us get the light back?”
“I don’t know,” Scott admitted. “but I’ll bet you two shoe laces that Michael will come through for us when we need him. He’s pretty devoted to Carelin.”
“Two shoe laces isn’t much of a bet,” said Mona.
“I don’t have anything else to bet on besides my shoes,” said Scott, “and they’re falling apart.”
“I think Scott deserves a gold tipped shoelace for sticking up for his friend,” said Nigel.
Scott was glad it was so dark in the train car so that nobody could see him turn red when he admitted how poor he was, and then blushed when Nigel spoke so kindly.
“But that creep who didn’t want us to ride on his train isn’t the type of person who’d do anything for anybody, is he?” asked Mona.
“Not that I know of,” said Scott.
“Do you know him, then?” asked Edmund.
“Nobody knows him,” said Scott. “He makes it pretty impossible to make friends with him. Everybody calls him Superbrat.”
“Then you really can’t stick up for him, can you?” Edmund asked.
“Superbrat has all the things the rest of us in Milton can’t afford,” said Scott, “but he’s living in Milton with his aunt because his mother is in treatment for something, and his father is too busy making money to take care of his son.”
“Does that mean we’re supposed to feel sorry for him?” asked Mona.
“I do,” said Scott.
“Has anybody ever tried to make friends with Shawn?” asked Edmund.
“Not that I know of,” said Scott. “He doesn’t make it easy to be friendly with him.”
“And not being friendly with him makes him more unfriendly than ever, doesn’t it?” said Nigel.
“Yea. I suppose,” said Scott. “I guess that’s why I feel sorry for him, now that I think about it.”
There was a long grating sound and an explosive crunch as Cornelius the Beetle pulled on the train from the caboose once more. Everybody held their breath, hoping to be under way, but then sighed when the train stopped again. Fenrir, but was pacified when Edmund scratched his stomach.
“It seems to me that if Cornelius the Beetle and that phoenix were all they’re cracked up to be,” said King Perezvon XXVI, “they would have us well on the way to wherever we’re going by now.”
Fenrir growled warningly.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to insult Cornelius the Beetle or the phoenix,” Mona cautioned him.
“Not unless you think you can do a better job of pulling this train out of the wreckage than they can,” Nigel added.
“I’ll bet we should do something to help Cornelius the Beetle and the phoenix,” said Edmund.
“I’ll bet Scott can make a train whistle sound with his harmonica,” said Mona. “That should help.”
“You said you don’t like my harmonica playing,” said Scott.
“I’ve changed my mind,” said Mona.
“Roger says you’re the best harmonica player west of Correlee,” Nigel prompted.
Scott could not resist the lure of his harmonica after those kind words from Nigel. He took it out of his shirt pocket and started a wailing blues piece he knew. Nigel began to sing a low-pitched melody and Edmund entered on a higher pitch. The voices and the harmonica grew gradually louder until they became a combination of train whistle and a song. There was another loud crunching sound, and then the train moved forward with no further sense of strain.
----------
“I’m so hungry I could eat a porcupine with all its quills on it,” moaned Captain Michael.
“There ain’t no porcupines in the galley,” said Captain Eagle.
“How about some rotted toads?” asked Captain Geoffrey.
“We ain’t even got that delicacy,” said Captain Patch. “Last time I looked, I couldn’t even find as much as one moldy potato chip.”
The pirates and the choristers groaned and shivered as they huddled together on the main deck. Gertrude the Walrus, harnessed to the ship by strands from Melanie’s Web, was little more than a dark blob against the darkness as flew the ship. The numerous strands of the spider’s web that Gertrude the Walrus had sewn into the broken pieces of the ship gave off a an eerie glow. Only that and Captain Patch’s exposed eye relieved the penetrating darkness that surrounded them.
“I think he means there ain’t nothing in the galley,” said Captain Peg.
“That’s why I’m so hungry,” Captain Michael complained.
“I think we are all equally hungry,” said Captain Hilary.
“Yea,” said Captain Polly. “We’re all in the same boat.”
“Same boat,” echoed the parrot.
“I don’t like being in this boat any more!” Captain Michael pouted.
“Not even after all the work Gertrude the Walrus did?” asked Captain Dennis.
“What good is Gertrude the Walrus if she can’t get us anywhere in this patched-up ship?” roared Captain Eagle.
“I think we have to be patient,” said Captain Hilary.
“I’m tired of being patient,” complained Captain Michael.
“I’m tired of being patient, too,” said Captain Eagle.
“I’ll bet there’s some food in that treasure chest,” said Captain Michael.
“Yea,” “Yea,” “Yea,” urged several boys and pirates.
“But we can’t open it,” Captain Dennis reminded the crew.
“How do you know?” Captain Flintlock retorted. “Now we’ve got the ship back, we’ve got all our pirate tools back with it. I’ll bet if we all chipped in with some elbow grease we could get that treasure chest open in thirty-two-and-a-half seconds.”
“Yea,” “Yea,” “Yea,” cried several boys and pirates.
“I say we wait until Gertrude the Walrus gets us to where we’re going and then we open the treasure chest,” said Captain Polly.
This suggestion was met with mixed Yes’s and No’s.
“Opening the treasure chest is a brilliant idea,” said a man, dressed in black, who suddenly appeared among the crew.
“What did I tell you?” said Captain Michael to his fellows.
“It is most important that you open the treasure chest without delay,” prompted a woman, also dressed in black.
“There is more than food and gold and frankincense and myrrh in that treasure chest,” said a younger man, dressed in black like the two others.
“You see,” said the older man, “all the light that we took from you is stored in the depths of that treasure chest.”
“We are the only ones who know where it is and how to retrieve it,” said the woman.
“Without us, you will be lost in darkness forever,” said the younger man.
“All right!” roared Captain Flintlock. “What are we waiting for?”
“WAIT!” Captain Hilary yelled over the clamor of the crew.
“What for?” asked a defiant Captain Michael.
“I think we’d better have a discussion first,” said the deputy head chorister.
“No,” No,” “No,” cried several boys and pirates with a few “Yes’s” lost among them.
Then Captain Polly stood and held up his hands for quiet.
“I say we discuss it first,” said Captain Polly. “I’ve took their advice thirty-seven times in my life, and I’ve regretted it every time. The last time I took their advice, I kidnaped two kids and held them for ransom. The trouble was, their hundred-and-five year old governess wouldn’t leave them, and I had to kidnap her too. Before I could get those kids returned just for the reward of getting rid of that governess, she’d taught me how to conjugate verbs and decline nouns in forty-six languages. So what I says is that if they wants us to open this here treasure chest, then we’d better not do it.”
“Any other comments?” asked Captain Hilary.
“It’s too bad Chief Captain Karen isn’t here,” said Captain Geoffrey. “I bet she’d know what to do.”
“Maybe she’d know what to do if she was here,” said Captain Scratch, “but she ain’t here and we don’t know what she would think we should do, so we can’t do it nohow.”
“It would help if we hadn’t lost Captain Nigel and Captain Edmund,” said Captain Oliver. “They always have good ideas when it comes to treasure chests.”
“Well said, Captain Oliver,” said Captain Hilary.
“Well, they ain’t here so we can’t pick their little birdsong brains about it,” said Captain Flintlock, “unless somebody wants to open the treasure chest and go get them.”
“What’s the sense of opening the treasure chest and looking for Captain Nigel and Captain Edmund if we’re just going to ask them whether or not we should open the treasure chest when we’ve just done that?” asked Captain Martin.
“Well said, Captain Martin,” said Captain Hilary.
“You’re too logical,” Captain Eagle sneered. “Logic ain’t never gotten me nowhere, if you know what I mean.”
“I think we have to figure out what Chief Captain Karen and Captain Nigel and Captain Edmund would do if they were here,” said Captain Geoffrey.
“Which they ain’t!” Captain Flintlock reminded him.
“I don’t think my Great Aunt would approve of our opening the treasure chest before we get to where we’re going,” said Captain Dennis.
“And how do you know that?” Captain Scratch roared over the murmuring among the rest of the crew.
“Uh—well—my Great Aunt once said—she said—I’ll think of it—she said—I know! Just last week—at the breakfast table—when I was spreading marmalade on my toast—she told me that when you do something, you have to do it at the right time.”
“And how do you know this ain’t the right time to open this here treasure chest,” thundered Captain Eagle, “when we we’re being flown through the sky by a walrus who doesn’t know where anything is any more? What would this great aunt of yours say to that?”
Captain Dennis hid his face in shame and made no reply. Captain Hilary knew this was a time when Captain Nigel would have spoken a comforting word to the hyper-sensitive Captain Dennis.
“Your words about your Great Aunt were well said, Captain Dennis,” said Captain Hilary.
Captain Dennis’ face brightened a little and he wiped a tear off his cheek.
“Why would Gertrude the Walrus go to all the trouble to sew up this ship so that we can take the treasure chest somewhere, if she wasn’t taking it somewhere?” asked Captain Martin.
“Maybe she just wants to have the treasure chest all to herself after we all starve to death on this ship,” said Captain Michael.
“If Gertrude the Walrus is taking us and the treasure chest somewhere,” said Captain Dennis, “then we should wait and open it when we get to where she’s taking us, even if she doesn’t know where we’re going to end up until she gets there.”
“Well said, Captain Martin, and well said, again, Captain Dennis,” said Captain Hilary. “Not so well said, Captain Michael.”
“I phrased my statement very well!” Captain Michael shouted. “You’re just trying to stifle every opinion you don’t like!”
“You did indeed phrase your statement very well, Captain Michael,” said Captain Hilary, unruffled by the outburst. “I did not stifle your opinion; I only disagreed with it.”
“All that walrus said was she wanted another sewing job,” said Captain Eagle. “She got her sewing job, so what does she care what happens to the treasure chest?”
“We just have to decide if we’re going to trust Gertrude the Walrus or not,” said Captain Oliver.
“If we’re going to starve to death in five seconds if we don’t open the treasure chest,” said Captain Martin, “then our best chances are with opening the treasure chest. But as long as we aren’t going to starve to death that soon, our best chances are with waiting.”
“Let’s take a vote,” suggested Captain Michael. “Majority rules.”
“What if the majority is wrong?” asked Captain Dennis. “My Great Aunt said. . .”
“I say we vote!” yelled Captain Michael over outcries from the other boys and the pirates.
“I don’t believe in voting!” Captain Polly yelled so loudly that the ship’s crew suddenly became quiet. “I say, the first person who thinks we should open the chest should come forward and open it.”
“And he can use any tool in the hold that he wants,” added Captain Scratch.
“All right,” said Captain Hilary, recognizing in Captain Polly’s suggestion the kind of thing Mr. Schnitzelbergen might do in a situation like that. “Anyone who wants to open the treasure chest may come forward and open it.”
Everybody froze, their eyes glued to the treasure chest.
“First person to open it gets to be the first person to open it,” said Captain Eagle.
“Last person to open the treasure chest is a short-necked giraffe,” quipped Captain Oliver.
Several boys giggled, but then a chill wind wiped the smiles off their faces.
“It is obvious the Gertrude the Walrus is lost in the Dark Lake,” said the older man.
“You can see for yourselves that there is nothing to see all around you except for the Dark Lake,” said the woman.
“The only escape from the Dark Lake is through the treasure chest,” said the younger man.
Captain Geoffrey slowly rose to his feet and stared hard at the chest.
“The Dark Lake is inside the treasure chest, too!”Captain Hilary reminded him.
Captain Geoffrey continued to stare at the treasure chest, but he remained rooted in place.
“I’m going to climb up to the crow’s nest and keep an eye out for wherever Gertrude the Walrus is taking us,” said Captain Geoffrey. “That way, if I get tempted to open the chest, I’ll be too far away to do it.”
The rest of the boys and the pirates sat in silence that was broken only by the rustling sound of Captain Geoffrey shimming up the mast.
“You must realize by now that Melanie the Web Spinner is only trying to prevent you from getting the light,” said the older man.
“Since we are the ones who hid the light inside the treasure chest, we can give you the power to open it with the flick of a wrist,” said the woman.
“And you will get all the credit for rescuing the light that we stole,” said the younger man.
There was a long uncomfortable silence among the crew. Slowly, Captain Michael stood up and walked to the treasure chest.
“If they stole the light and hid it inside the treasure chest,” said Captain Dennis, “then how come they aren’t in the chest now?”
“No more discussions!” roared Captain Flintlock.
Captain Dennis curled himself up into a little ball. Captain Michael stood in the middle of the deck, frozen in place. The rest of the crew sat in silence. Captain Michael took another step toward the treasure chest, then looked around to see if anybody else wanted to do it. Captain Flintlock and Captain Eagle stood up and tiptoed behind Captain Michael. Captain Michael took another step forward and the two pirates behind him did the same. Captain Michael started to take yet another step, but then stopped in mid-stride and looked at his fellow choristers. When he saw that none of the other boys were showing any sign of joining him and the two pirates, he shrugged his shoulders, sat down next to Captain Dennis, and put an arm on the sobbing boy’s shoulder until Captain Dennis slowly uncurled himself. Captain Flintlock and Captain Eagle shuffled back to their places. The three dark visitors suddenly disappeared.
More time passed. The boys and the pirates shivered with an even sharper cold and their stomachs growled like little monsters inside their bellies. Captain Martin could stand it no longer. He intoned the Gloria and started to sing the Lost Mass of Christopher Tye in a faltering voice. Captain Hilary joined him almost immediately. Before long, all of the boys were singing, and everybody on the ship felt slightly warmer.
--------------
Cornelius the Beetle picked up the two strands of Melanie’s Web that formed rails in front of the caboose and pulled hard. The phoenix, spreadeagled on the back of the caboose, also tried to pull the train forward, out of the rubble where the engine was still buried. The phoenix heard a grating sound from the front of the train that was now the back of the train and the train inched forward a bit. After pausing to catch his breath each time, Cornelius the Beetle pulled again, each time with the same poor result.
“Boy, this train is more stuck than a sunken ship encased in cement at the bottom of an ocean,” muttered Cornelius the Beetle.
The phoenix thought of several apt replies but said none of them because he had to keep his mouth clamped shut over the live spark he was carrying inside his beak. The insolent adolescent boy, so much like himself that the phoenix almost thought he was carrying himself, continued to struggle for release. Shawn Harrison was the name of the hateful boy, the phoenix remembered. Superbrat was his nickname. One look at his stylish clothes and stony face was enough to make the avoid him like the plague. Now the phoenix had him inside his beak and the horrid boy was infecting every attempt to think of anything besides the outrage committed against the rightful owner of the train. Over and over again, the phoenix was forced to watch replays that ran through Shawn’s head where Shawn ran his incredible toy train through a little world created out of toy houses, shops, and mountains. Then a sudden train wreck stopped everything. The engine was repositioned but it did not start up again. The engine was thrown away in anger and it landed on top of a lighthouse that guarded a rocky coast. Then the picture went blank for a second and then the film started all over again.
Cornelius the Beetle pulled and grunted and pulled again. The phoenix thought that the train groaned like a dying bull, but groaning didn’t get the train any further than a few feet.
“This train is more stuck than a mastodon frozen in ice under a mountain at the North Pole in the coldest day of the coldest winter in all word history,” muttered Cornelius the Beetle.
The phoenix thought the train was even more stuck than that, but he couldn’t say anything. With the replays from Shawn’s wasted life cycling relentlessly through his head, the phoenix tried to put his mind on other things, but there were not many things in his own life that interested him. Not his family. Not school. Not friends. Well, there was Scott. Why was it hard for him to think of Scott when he was one person who was ever nice to him? The phoenix knew the answer to that. He had not been very kind to Scott and it was his fault that Scott was lame in one foot. There were Uncle Martin and Aunt Edith and their children. All of them were nice to him, even before he was ever kind or courteous to them. Two of the children had spent time inside a dragon because of him, but they never held it against him. The King of Carelin was a loser and Prince Pickleface was not much better, but the rest of the people in that strange kingdom deserved better than to be plunged into darkness because of the spite of three mysterious people who seemed to live off the hate of others, not least the hate the phoenix had for everybody in Milton and the particular hate he held for the virulent spark inside his beak.
“Shawn Harrison is the greediest boy in town,” said a man.
“He is not worth carrying when it hurts you so much,” said a woman.
“Drop him and your flight will be much more comfortable,” said another man.
The phoenix looked around but saw nobody except for Cornelius the Beetle panting and sweating as he pulled all the harder on the caboose and only move the train a few inches each time. Those voices made the phoenix think of the black umbrellas that were raised against him just before he turned into an oversized crow.
“It won’t be long before you can’t bear the pain of carrying the brat,” said the first man.
“He will squirm and burn inside your beak until you can’t stand it any more,” said the second man.
“You won’t be able to bear his greedy thoughts that fill your brain much longer,” said the woman.
The phoenix almost opened his beak and let the squirming spark that was Shawn drop out of existence. Nobody would miss him. There was no need to worry about him. But the phoenix snapped his beak shut at the cost of a stabbing burning sensation and a stream of profanity pouring through his mind like lava. If they wanted him to drop the spark that was Shawn, he knew he had best not do it. He had come to grief from listening to the Will o’ the Wisp and these three dark people were much worse than Will.
The phoenix struggled to bring back to mind those people of Carelin who had been nice to him. Allowing himself to be reborn in a dragon’s egg was little compensation for the havoc he had caused to Carelin in the first place. As the fire burned more intensely and the phoenix doubled and redoubled his determination not to drop the spark from his beak, the phoenix asked himself if anybody had ever been nice to Shawn the way the people of Carelin had been nice to him. He knew the answer to that question. Everybody knew that Superbrat’s father hardly ever came to see him, and that his aunt, the piano teacher, did not like him. The phoenix knew what it was like to be hated by everybody in town. It was no wonder that the Superbrat was so insufferable. Maybe Superbrat wasn’t redeemable, but how could he be sure if he didn’t give Superbrat a chance to make friends with Uncle Martin and Aunt Edith and Amarilla and Roger and Samantha?
These thoughts began to scream through the phoenix’s mind like a train whistle. Then the phoenix realized it really was hearing a train whistle along with a rumbling sound so loud, the phoenix thought it was a volcano. The phoenix pulled the caboose as well. This time, his wings felt stronger and he felt that he was really helping the train this time. Cornelius the Beetle struggled and pulled the caboose until the rumbling sound stopped and the train continued to move with no sense of strain.
“Now, this train is as stuck as a greased eel in a waterlogged mud bank!” Cornelius the Beetle cried triumphantly.
The phoenix thought that the beetle was right, but he could not say so. Cornelius the Beetle hopped up to the top of the caboose and picked up the threads from Melanie’s Web as if they were a pair of reigns for a team of horses. Immediately, the threads straightened out below the train into parallel rails for the train to ride on. With a clack of the reigns, the train picked up speed and moved smoothly along the tracks.
The three people who were speaking to the phoenix seemed to have left him. The phoenix was glad of that. The train whistle blew again. It sounded something like a song with a train whistle effect. The phoenix called it “The Train Whistle Song.”