Monty and Tawny the Fearless Lion are both yawning as they plod along the beach, heading for breakfast at the Island Cafe.

There was a huge storm in the night. Thunder crashed. Rain pelted down. Giant waves pounded the shore, moving the sand around. Now the storm’s moved on, but the sun’s hidden behind grey clouds, so everything is still very wet.

The big waves have left lots of things behind them on the sand, and Monty’s Pickup Sled is piled high. He’s found plenty of driftwood for the Cafe stove. He’s also found a rusty saw, a big plastic cone, a canoe paddle, a useful wooden box and a fine broad-brimmed hat.

A huge fishing net clogged with seaweed is piled on the Sled as well. It’ll make a great sun shelter for the Islanders on hot afternoons. Usually, washed-up hats and fishing nets are chewed to pieces by Jinglebees before Monty can get to them, but this morning the Jinglebees are sleeping in.

Monty’s pleased with his Finds, but he wishes he was still in bed, too. He and Tawny were safe from the storm in their little grass hut, but there was too much noise for sleep.

First, there was the thunder. Then, in the jungle, there were the angry roars of the Island’s monster, the Hairy Horrible. The Horrible hunts at night, but it hates wet feet even more than it hates sand between its toes.

And as if those things weren’t bad enough, the two Argue Birds that live on the roof of the hut had started one of their loud quarrels.

I’M WET, I’M WET, I’M WET! the bossy one kept squawking.

I’m wetter, I’m wetter, I’m wetter, the quiet one would trill back.

I’M WET, I’M WET, I’M WET, I’M WET!

I’m wetter, I’m wetter, I’m wetter, I’m wetter . . .

The fight went on and on. Thinking about it now, Monty feels tireder than ever. ‘The umbrella I put over the Argue Birds didn’t help,’ he says to Tawny. ‘It does have a few holes in it, but it’s the only one I have.’

‘Puh!’ says Tawny. If he had his way, the Argue Birds would have more than a leaky umbrella to worry about.

‘Never mind,’ says Monty, nodding at the wooden box on the Sled. ‘I’ve got a plan. That box is plenty big enough for two. It’s got a lid to keep off the rain, and holes in the sides for fresh air. I’m going to cut a doorway at one end and put the box in a tree. Then maybe the Argue Birds will go and live in it, instead of on our roof.’

Tawny’s just about to say ‘Puh!’ again, because he doesn’t think the Argue Birds will do any such thing, when he sees something very surprising floating at the water’s edge.

Shining in the middle of a clump of seaweed is a huge golden egg.

Tawny stops and stares. Monty turns to find out why, and sees the golden egg. He jams on the Sled brake and runs to the water’s edge. In no time he’s back, the egg cradled in his hands.

‘I’ve never seen an egg as big as this!’ he exclaims. ‘It must have come from an island far away. Look how it shines, Tawny! Just like real gold!’

Tawny growls. Suddenly he’s sorry he stopped. He’s got a bad feeling about this. Then he hears something, and the bad feeling gets worse. There’s a tiny scratching, tapping noise coming from the egg. Something inside is trying to get out!

‘The egg’s starting to hatch!’ Monty shouts in excitement. ‘We’d better get it up to the Cafe quick smart, Tawny! The baby bird will be warmer and drier inside.’

He slides the egg into his Handy Bag to keep it safe. Then he puts his head down and hurries on up the beach, dragging the Sled behind him.