A letter in burnt-orange ink, filled with exclamation points and underlinings, arrived from Aunt Mehitabel:

Dear Children,

I have received a letter from Mr. J.P. King, announcing that he has been lurking off the north shore of the island in his yacht and would now like permission to land and explore Drake’s Hill! I have written back, explaining that under no circumstances do I ever allow uninvited visitors on the island! I trust he will not risk trespassing again! He sounds a most determined person, much too accustomed to getting his own way.

The Anna of the photograph that you found in the Tower Room — I had thought it was long gone — is Anna König, a woman who grossly deceived me and who, due to my foolishness, could have been a terrible threat to F! I met Anna long ago on a tour of archaeological sites in China. We both had a deep interest in dragon artifacts — mine, of course, because of you-know-who — and we soon became bosom friends. I even invited her to join me on Lonely Island, along with her son, Johann Pieter, a bright young boy of ten. The photograph that you describe is of the three of us, taken at the beginning of that fatal visit.

In my excitement at meeting a kindred spirit, I fear I dropped some unfortunate hints about the special denizen of the island that led Anna to become curious. Soon I discovered that she was prowling about the house late at night, searching for clues! (It was then, most providentially, that I first locked the door to the Tower Room.) Then she and her son took to exploring the island! I tried to protest but did not want to call too much attention to my distress — I felt that would only confirm her growing suspicions.

She spoke of capturing you-know-who and of immense riches and fame. I argued that magical creatures were only found in fairy tales and implied that I myself, though desperately wanting to believe, had been proven wrong time and time again and had become convinced that F and his kind are simply imaginary. Gradually, I believe, she came to agree with me. Her visit was at last drawing to a close, and I allowed myself a sigh of relief.

Then one morning Johann Pieter, who had risen at sunrise for a final walk along the beach, came racing into the house incoherent with excitement. He had discovered tracks on the beach, he said, immense clawed footprints that could only belong to a you-know-what — one who perhaps lived in a cave beneath the sea. His mother and I went with him to examine the miraculous tracks, but when we arrived, the water had washed them away. If, indeed, they were ever there — Johann Pieter was a most imaginative little boy and very eager to please his mother.

Anna, by then, however, had come to see her quest as a waste of time, but when she and Johann Pieter departed the island, I saved the photograph as a reminder to myself never to be so careless again! It was a narrow escape and one that I have never forgotten!

I wish I could be there to help, but I am still incapacitated with my broken ankle! The doctor tells me that it will be at least another four weeks before I can attempt to walk on it! (I have done some experiments privately, and I suspect that he is correct.) In any case, I trust that you will be able to handle things on your own, in the best interests of F.

With fondest regards,

Aunt Mehitabel

“What a nasty person,” Sarah Emily said. “That Anna. Sneaking around like that. And lying.”

“The worst is that she wanted to capture Fafnyr,” Zachary said.

“I don’t think the Awful Warning helps us much, though,” Hannah said. “We didn’t invite Mr. King here. He just came.”

“Maybe he’ll go away,” Sarah Emily said hopefully. “Now that he’s got Aunt Mehitabel’s letter.”

The children were sitting on the bed in Hannah’s room. Buster, looking like a furry balloon with a smirk on its face, was comfortably asleep in Sarah Emily’s lap. Zachary was tinkering with his tape recorder, which hadn’t worked properly since Ben had jerked it out of his hands and dropped it on the sand. Something inside it seemed to be stuck. When Zachary pressed the PLAY button, it buzzed like a sick bumblebee or made sad little whirring sounds.

“Maybe he already left,” said Hannah, looking brighter.

“Let’s take a picnic to the north end of the island. We can see if the yacht is still there.”

“I give up,” Zachary said, tossing the tape recorder into a bureau drawer. “Let’s go.”

Mrs. Jones packed a picnic basket, stuffed with all their favorites: hard-boiled eggs, pickles, peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches, and oatmeal cookies. Cheerfully, they set off across the island, Zachary in the lead, wearing his backpack, Hannah and Sarah Emily swinging the picnic basket between them. Hannah began to sing a song about how she loved to go a-wandering.

“I can’t wait to get there and see that boat gone,” said Zachary.

They turned right and cut through the fields, heading for the beach, just south of the place where Mr. King’s company had made their camp. They climbed over a tumble of rounded rocks — Sarah Emily said they looked like baby hippopotamuses — and then scrambled to the top of a sandy dune, overgrown with scrub and grass, that sloped down to the beach. The tents were gone, but the great white yacht still rode at anchor off the shore.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” Zachary said. He dropped down on the sand. “He never gives up, just like everybody says.”

“Oh, come on, Zachary,” said Hannah. “I think it’s going to be all right. He got Aunt Mehitabel’s letter and he’s packing up. They took down the tents, didn’t they? I bet he’ll be gone by this afternoon.”

“I hope so,” Sarah Emily said.

Zachary looked skeptical. “We might as well eat,” he said.

As the children finished the last bites of their sandwiches, a figure appeared at the rail of the yacht’s upper deck. It climbed down the metal ladder attached to the boat’s side and dropped into a waiting motorboat. There was the sputter of a starting motor, and the boat turned in a wide smooth curve and headed toward the shore. As it grew closer, the children could see that the driver was Mr. J.P. King. When he was within hailing distance, he cut the motor and raised one hand, signaling to the children on the beach. “Permission to come ashore?” he shouted. He looked fit and friendly, like a kindly grandfather who took time to go to an exercise club.

The children exchanged worried looks.

“I suppose so,” said Hannah.

Zachary stood up and lifted a hand in answer. “OK!” he shouted. “Temporarily!”

Mr. King landed the boat and sprang lightly out onto the sand. He was dressed as he had been at their previous meeting, in khaki slacks and a blue sweater, but now he wore a white cap with a black visor trimmed with gold braid. He walked briskly toward them across the beach and sat down on a rock next to the children’s picnic site.

“A lovely place,” he said.

“Did you get a letter from our aunt?” Hannah asked bluntly.

“I did indeed,” said Mr. King, “and she made her position quite clear. Which is why, of course, I ordered my employees back to the yacht. I hate to think that there might be . . . unpleasant accusations later. However, in light of your aunt’s uncooperative letter, I would like to discuss the present situation with you three. Let us put our cards on the table. You and I both know about the . . .” — he paused —“extraordinary beast . . . hidden on the island. Clearly your aunt is also aware of its existence. She, however, may not understand the implications of this animal’s presence here. She is very elderly, is she not?”

“Aunt Mehitabel is old,” Hannah said. “But she isn’t senile. She understands everything. And if there were an extraordinary animal here, she would know what’s best to do about it.”

Mr. King nodded understandingly. “Of course,” he said. “I’m sure her intentions are admirable. The very old, however, sometimes become — how shall I put it? — a bit hidebound, reluctant to move with the times. Or perhaps your aunt is simply unwilling to share her good fortune? That is what we’re talking about, is it not? Sharing?”

“What do you mean?” Sarah Emily asked.

“The creature who lives on this island,” Mr. King continued, “is a great natural treasure, perhaps the very last of its species alive on earth. Knowledge of its existence is a great wonder that all people on the planet have a right to share. Would it be right for one person to keep — let us say, the Grand Canyon — all to themselves? Besides, the care of this creature is too great a responsibility for one elderly woman and three children. It should be protected by the very best that modern science and technology have to offer.”

He paused and glanced behind him, upward toward the rocky peak of Drake’s Hill.

“What if this creature were to become ill, had you thought of that? Or if it were injured? Why, you children might not even be here to tend to it. By the time you finally arrived, it might be too late.”

Hannah’s eyes widened in concern, but she said nothing.

“I propose,” Mr. King said, “to establish a special nature preserve, a vast territory devoted to this creature alone. There it would be utterly safe — and people would be able to see it and learn from it. Perhaps people could learn wonderful things. Surely you have studied about endangered species in school. Any scientist would tell you that this is the right thing to do.”

He looked fixedly at each child in turn.

“This amazing animal deserves the best — the very best that money can buy. And I am willing to provide it. Don’t say anything now. Just think about it. I’ll get back to you in a day or two.”

“Wait a minute,” said Zachary as Mr. King rose to go. “All of this sounds generous and fair. But we don’t like some of the things you’ve done. What about all those people on the island? Sneaking around all over the place? Spying?”

“That Ben was mean too,” Sarah Emily put in. “He yanked Zachary’s arm and broke his tape recorder.”

“How unpleasant,” Mr. King said. “I apologize. I was carried away by the excitement of my discovery. I will take care of the matter.” He looked up toward the hill once more. “I am sure,” he said, “that we can negotiate in an aboveboard, civilized manner for the best of all concerned.”

He nodded to the children. “Good day,” he said, and walked back across the sand to the motorboat. He climbed in, started the motor, and chugged rapidly away.

The children sat, silent, around the empty picnic basket.

Then Zachary said, “I never thought of that before. Maybe we are being selfish. Think of all the special efforts being made to take care of endangered animals.

Like the California condor and the Siberian tiger and the spotted owl. Doesn’t Fafnyr deserve the support of the whole world? Wouldn’t he be safer?”

“He is safe,” Sarah Emily said. “He’s protected, right here. Aunt Mehitabel trusted us to protect him and keep him and his cave a secret.”

“But what if Fafnyr got sick?” Hannah said. “We wouldn’t know what to do. Mr. King is right. We might not even be here. Fafnyr could die and we wouldn’t know.”

“I don’t know what’s the right thing to do,” Zachary said miserably. “What if Aunt Mehitabel is wrong?”

“We don’t have to do anything for a day or two,” Hannah said. “Not until Mr. King comes back.”

“Let’s go see Fafnyr,” Sarah Emily said.

“It’s too late today,” said Zachary. “We’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“She,” said Hannah firmly. They were standing on the wide ledge above the ocean at the entrance to the dragon’s cave. “Don’t get mixed up because she doesn’t like it. It’s she. Remember?”

The third dragon head, as the children had learned last summer, was female.

The three children stepped through the dark entrance of the cave, and Zachary switched on his flashlight. They trudged steadily downward, breathing in the spicy odor of dragon: wood smoke, cinnamon, a tangy whiff of incense. Soon the flashlight picked up the scintillating flash of golden dragon scales. There was the sound of a heavy body shifting on the cave floor and a hissing noise, like the sound of a gas stove turning on. The dragon flamed and the cave filled with soft light. The third dragon head was awake. Its eyes were a cool luminous silver. It lowered its head toward the children, bending down first to Sarah Emily, then to Zachary, and finally Hannah.

“We are delighted at your return,” the dragon said ceremoniously. It surveyed each of the children assessingly, then gave an approving nod.

“Field hockey?” it said. “Rockets? Piano lessons? Excellent. It is always rewarding to see the young improving their minds.”

Then, suddenly, it bent even lower, bringing the silver eyes level with the children’s faces. Its voice became filled with concern.

“Something is wrong,” it said.

“Oh, Fafnyr,” Sarah Emily said, her voice breaking. “Everything is so awful.”

“The insufferably persistent person in the boat?” the dragon said. It wrinkled its nose in distaste.

“He knows all about you,” Zachary said. “He seems to know everything. And he has this plan . . .”

“Tell me about it,” the dragon said.

The children explained.

“He says that you could be the very last of your kind.”

“An endangered species.”

“All the world deserves to know about you, he says. It’s selfish of us to keep you a secret all for ourselves.”

“And what if you were sick or hurt? We wouldn’t know how to help you.”

“So he wants,” Zachary summed up, “to build a special nature preserve, just for you. A place where you’d be taken care of. And you’d be safe forever.”

The dragon listened patiently, unmoving, except for the slow blinking of its silver eyes.

“I see,” it said when they had finished.

A silence fell.

Then Sarah Emily ran forward and threw her arms around the dragon’s leg, pressing her face against the golden scales.

“We don’t know what to do, Fafnyr,” she said. Her eyes were filled with tears. “We don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong. Everything is muddly.”

The dragon lifted a golden claw and gently smoothed Sarah Emily’s hair.

“I think,” it said, “that I should tell you a story.”

“But, Fafnyr . . .” Zachary began.

The dragon stopped him with a lifted golden claw.

“We’ll get to all that,” it said. “First, listen.”

The children sank down on the warm cave floor. Zachary sat cross-legged. Hannah and Sarah Emily leaned back against the dragon’s golden tail. As the dragon spoke, the cave walls seemed to shimmer and dissolve. The children felt a breath of warm wind on their cheeks. There was a sound of soft laughter, a sweet smell of honeysuckle and gardenia flowers. The children again found themselves in another place and time, seeing the world through someone else’s eyes.