"Of course, my boy. Curiosity, if nothing else, will bring it up again. In the meantime, we might as well sit down and wait."
They sat down and waited. David took off his jacket. For fifteen minutes they heard nothing but the murmuring of the surf and the rustling clatter of palm fronds. At last there was a slight splashing noise from the lagoon.
"There," David whispered, pointing.
Thirty feet offshore, an ear was being thrust cautiously above the rippled surface. It twitched once or twice, then pointed quiveringly in their direction.
"Come out, Monster!" the Phoenix shouted. "It is I, the Phoenix."
The Sea Monster's head appeared slowly, followed by several yards of neck. It peered at them short-sightedly, weaving its head from side to side to get a better view. David saw that it had two short, straight horns just in front of its ears, eyes that were soft and cowlike, and a most expressive set of whiskers. The whiskers were now at a doubtful, half-mast angle.
"Ah, Phoenix," said the Sea Monster at last in a mild voice. "Can't you remember to wake me a bit more gently? I thought you were—"
"Come on out," said the Phoenix firmly, "and stop looking like a lost sheep."
"Uh—what about—uh—that?" said the Sea Monster hesitantly, pointing one ear at David.
"This," said the Phoenix, "is David. He is getting an education. I assure you that he will not bite."