“No,” said Trot.

“The pain I had then,” remarked Anko, “was caused by a kink in my tail about three hundred feet from the end.  There was an old octopus who did not like me, and so he tied a knot in my tail when I wasn’t looking.”

“What did you do?” asked Cap’n Bill.

“Well, first I transformed the octopus into a jellyfish, and then I waited for the tide to turn.  When my tail was untied, the pain stopped.”

“I—­I don’t understand that,” said Trot, somewhat bewildered.

“Thank you, my dear,” replied the Sea Serpent in a grateful voice.  “People who are always understood are very common.  You are sure to respect those you can’t understand, for you feel that perhaps they know more than you do.”

“About how long do you happen to be?” inquired Cap’n Bill.

“When last measured, I was seven thousand four hundred and eighty-two feet, five inches and a quarter.  I’m not sure about the quarter, but the rest is probably correct.  Adam measured me when Cain was a baby.”

“Where’s the rest of you, then?” asked Trot.

“Safe at home, I hope, and coiled up in my parlor,” answered the Sea Serpent.  “When I go out, I usually take along only what is needed.  It saves a lot of bother and I can always find my way back in the darkest night by just coiling up the part that has been away.”

“Do you like to be a sea serpent?” inquired the child.

“Yes, for I’m King of my Ocean, and there is no other sea serpent to imagine he is just as good as I am.  I have two brothers who live in other oceans, but one is seven inches shorter than I am, and the other several feet shorter.  It’s curious to talk about feet when we haven’t any feet, isn’t it?”

“Seems so,” acknowledged Trot.

“I feel I have much to be proud of,” continued Anko in a dreamy tone.  “My great age, my undisputed sway, and my exceptional length.”

“I don’t b’lieve I’d care to live so long,” remarked Cap’n Bill thoughtfully.

“So long as seven thousand four hundred and eighty-two feet, five inches and a quarter?” asked the Sea Serpent.

“No, I mean so many years,” replied the sailor.

“But what can one do if one happens to be a sea serpent?” Anko inquired.  “There is nothing in the sea that can hurt me, and I cannot commit suicide because we have no carbolic acid or firearms or gas to turn on.  So it isn’t a matter of choice, and I’d about as soon be alive as dead.  It does not seem quite so monotonous, you know.  But I guess I’ve stayed about long enough, so I’ll go home to dinner.  Come and see me when you have time.”

“Thank you,” said Trot, and Merla added, “I’ll take you over to his majesty’s palace when we go out and let you see how he lives.”

“Yes, do,” said Anko.  And then he slowly slid out of the hole, which immediately closed behind him, leaving the coral wall as solid as before.

“Oh!” exclaimed Trot.  “King Anko forgot to tell us what his third pain was about.”