Our trial flight to Gorilla-land and back having been successfully accomplished, we now began earnest preparations for the wholesale capture of its inhabitants.

With his usual businesslike grasp of details, Gran'pa drew up a list of the most important of our tasks, which were briefly as follows:—

(a) Construction of three cages (in sections); transportation to suitable spots in jungle; erection; camouflage.

(b) Construction and transportation of two hangars.

(c) Transportation of two gas cylinders per cage.

(d) Lessons in language and habits of gorilla.

(e) Lessons in rapid binding with ropes, tying knots, etc.

One would have said that, fired with the great enthusiasm we all had for the cause, such tasks as those outlined above should have taken us only a few weeks to accomplish. They should. We had no trade union restrictions, no lack of labor, no shortage of material, and no fear of overproduction. Free from all these handicaps so carefully cultivated by the Spirit of Modern Democracy, we ought to have made rapid progress.

But the natives were lazy, and argumentative, and curious, and superstitious; the climate was abominably hot, and wet, and enervating; transportation by aeroplane through a bumpy and tempestuous medium was difficult, and dangerous, and very trying to the nerves; and the general negroid disposition of always putting off till to-morrow what you should do to-day was contagiously demoralizing even to the best of us (Gran'pa!). All these things, added together, grew into a sort of huge persuasive influence which insisted that labor was undignified and crude.

Like a modern epitome of the British working man, I began reasoning with myself thus: Why should I slave for others (that is, for eighty-seven doddering old men on their way to Windhuk and Eternal Youth)? Why should I toil my hardest, while a life of dignified ease was the lot of so many others (that is, of the black population of Corisco)? Why should I risk my life, or rack my brains, or endanger my health? In short: why worry? Why hustle? And what was it all for, in the end? And who cared? And, so on....

This frame of mind was apparently common to all of us. We sometimes caught one another lolling about in obscure and shady spots; or swimming in the cool green water of miniature harbors; or even fast asleep in corners of buildings, which were primarily designed and set apart for human industry. Naturally, the individual who was found in these attitudes of dignified repose or gentle relaxation was admonished by the discoverer, but the latter always knew that he was just as bad himself—when a suitable opportunity arose.

The climax came, however, one morning when I had been working unusually hard at finishing the last of the three cages. As I hammered home the final rivet I gave a great sigh of relief.

"That's that!" I thought, flinging the hammer aside and strolling out into the tropical sunshine. "Now I'll pop over to the aerodrome, and see how they're getting on."

Gran'pa, Dr. Croft and Stringer were there (in charge of one another and some half-dozen natives), and I was anxious to let them know the result of my morning's labors. It was intensely hot, and as I strolled languidly through the mango plantation, I felt a grim satisfaction in my physical condition of perspiring stickiness.

When I entered the large bamboo building which constituted our workshop and aero garage I was immediately struck by its air of peace and solitude. The portable lathe was silent and the benches were littered with deserted tools, as though everyone had left hurriedly.

At first, the feverish pictures of a negro revolt, anarchy, or assassination flashed through my brain; but presently, it became obvious that nothing was damaged or taken. The place had been simply left—as though it was under the spell of a dinner hour, or the Sabbath. A terrible thought seized me, and hurrying into the open again I began a search of the immediate vicinity, in the hope of finding some loitering negro who could tell me what had happened to the toilers.

Not a soul was in sight. The countryside seemed to have been suddenly swept clean of all life and movement; but, standing still and listening, I at last heard a faint and distant sound of cheering. It came unmistakably from the direction of the seashore. So I moved forward again, worked my way down a narrow cliff pathway and thence emerged on to a stretch of yellow sand. The noise—of much splashing and shouting—was now on my right, but the cause of the commotion was hidden by a handful of giant boulders which Nature had playfully flung down at this spot.

After a ten minute search for footholds, I managed to climb to the top of the highest boulder; and suddenly I saw a scene which nearly made me weep at the futility of man's endeavor. There had I been working hard all the morning, and here were Gran'pa, Croft, and Stringer—naked and unashamed—careering round a miniature harbor on some crudely fashioned raft-like object which was driven apparently by a petrol engine.

As the thing drew nearer to me I could see that it was preceded by a huge curling wave, which was made by some fiendish contrivance to fling itself over the heads and bodies of the three mariners. Every now and then, Gran'pa tugged at a piece of rope astern and the whole craft leapt half out of the water, dived, and then settled down into a sort of erratic seesaw movement. The cliff tops and beach were dotted with excited negroes, and each time Gran'pa pulled the rope they broke into loud cheers and flung themselves about in an ecstasy of wild abandonment.

As I watched, I visualized that terrible business of Gran'pa and the dug-out at home in England, and I could see that he was as wilful as ever. To think that I had been working myself to a shadow in this infernal tropical heat while he and Croft and Stringer were disporting themselves in this aquatic and hysterical fashion!

I stood up on the boulder top and waved my arms and shouted. The only answer was a loud and unanimous whoop of joy from the negroes, who no doubt thought that I had joined them as another enthusiastic spectator.

Presently, however, the craft turned round and began heading in my direction. As it did so, two of the crew were precipitated into the water, where they commenced behaving like hilarious porpoises. The man still left in charge of the thing was (naturally) Gran'pa, who continued serenely onwards until he finally ran aground on a kind of quayside composed of rugged, flat-topped rocks which jutted out into the sea like a pier.

It was at this point that I went out to meet him—and tell him exactly what was in my mind.

"Come on, George!" he shouted. "Off with your clothes!"

The temptation was terrible; but I had to remember my dignity.

"I'm ashamed of you!" I said, gazing at his cool, sea-drenched body and laughing face.

"What's the matter now?"

"I naturally concluded that you were all busy at work—the same as me. How the blazes do you expect us to get this job done if you behave in this demoralizing way?"

"Ah! This is a brain-wave. Dr. Croft and I thought it out this morning and acted on it there and then."

"So I can gather, quite easily!"

Gran'pa turned off the engine and stepped ashore.

"Those damned natives are getting sick of work," he said. "This morning they were worse than ever. We offered 'em more cheap and nasty jewelry. But they've lost interest in it. They're overloaded with the stuff. So we cudgelled our brains, and this is the result. At heart they're little children. What they want is enjoyment, not gimcrack knickknacks. This little exhibition of aquatic merriment has turned their heads. Look at them!... They'd give anything for a joy-ride on this. See the idea?"

"You mean that excursions on this horrible contrivance will be their reward for industry?""You've hit it first time, my lad. For every day of good hard, honest toil they'll get fifteen minutes' excitement round the harbor. And I'll stake my last farthing that when they know, we shall be simply besieged with applicants for jobs."

I began divesting myself of my unnecessary and encumbering garments.

"You're a genius!" I said, as I scrambled aboard. "Let her rip!"

The contrivance on which I managed to secure a perilous foothold was a rough, heart-shaped raft, with a long, narrow, rectangular hole cut between the bows. It was through this hole that the water presently began shooting upwards and backwards in a deliciously cool spray. The engine—taken from an old petrol launch which Gran'pa had bought a few days previously at Libreville—was encased in a water-tight covering made of aeroplane fabric stretched over a metal framework. Between this and the rudder was a vertical board which could be alternately lowered into and raised out of the water, this giving our craft the motion of a greyhound leaping in the chase. One maintained (or tried to maintain) one's balance by standing with the feet well apart and clutching a couple of the half dozen ropes fastened at one end to the deck.

Bathed in sunshine and falling water, Gran'pa and I shot outwards into the little blue bay, where he began frisking and seesawing, to the immense enjoyment of ourselves and the spectators. They lined the beach in hundreds, and shouted themselves hoarse with glee (and envy!).

"Like it, George?" cried Gran'pa, as we playfully leapt half out of the water."Rather! Why even I would do a day's work for a joy-ride like this every afternoon!"

We slowed down and picked up Croft and Stringer. But with four of us aboard the thing became top-heavy and cumbersome. So we made for land.

There, Gran'pa explained to the crowding and excited negroes the new system of payment for labor; and, as a proof of good faith (and an advertisement), he took our black foreman for a little jaunt round the harbor.

Ten minutes later the poor fellow came back absolutely delirious with joy.

Thus did we solve the great labor question in Corisco....

It proved more satisfactory to our employees than any system of profit-sharing, coÖperation, or payment by result ever devised, and it was certainly cheaper for the employer. The work was now done so thoroughly and speedily that in less than another week we were ready for our first real invasion of the jungle.

We all knew the gorilla language by now—a matter of some twenty or more sounds—were experts at knot-tying and rope-binding, and could give a very passable imitation of a live gorilla (when we were suitably clad in one of the animal's skins and a mask). Our skill in making a gas attack unawares was so perfect that we had even experimented on some of the natives without their having had the faintest idea of why they had suddenly fallen asleep. (I should like to give the exact formula for this specially prepared gas, which we called Gorilene, but unfortunately Gran'pa would never divulge the secret. It was practically odorless and non-poisonous, and its effect was swift and painless, rendering its victim unconscious for about 60 to 90 seconds.)We could also fly an aeroplane or shoot an animal at 100 yards; and in an emergency we could climb trees with grace and agility. We had even been taught how to do interesting and murderous things with knives and spears....

In addition, we could all of us (including Molly and Sally Rebecca) carry on more or less intelligent conversations with the natives in pigeon-English (with the occasional help of an excellent German-made dictionary!). At swimming we were experts and almost "lived" our spare time in the water; with the exception of Sally Rebecca, who could be persuaded only to paddle. Even this she first attempted with stockings on! But, as for Molly, I really believe that she would have developed fins and web-feet in another six months! She was brown skinned from head to foot, and constant exercise in the open air and sunshine had already increased her stature by at least an inch. We were the jolliest party imaginable, and I am certain that all of us hated the prospect of ever returning to England.

I mention these things to show that, in spite of our deep sense of duty towards the aged, we still had our lighter moments of gaiety and abandon.

At last the time came when we were able to make the actual declaration of war on the gorillas. Our boat, "The Pilgrim Father," after landing its cargo of ancients at Swakopmund, had returned and had been prepared for the reception of our anthropoid guests; the three cages had been placed in the jungle, some 150 miles from Corisco (their exact positions being indicated by small, bright-red, captive balloons); a hangar for the shelter of two aeroplanes had been constructed on a neighboring plateau; and a week's supply of emergency rations had been conveyed to each of these four points of attack (and defence). We were ready.

Ninety minutes before dawn on May 15th (the commencement of the six months' dry season) was the appointed hour to strike.

I don't think any of us slept the previous night. We arose early, fed ourselves, wheeled out the two aeroplanes, climbed aboard, and wished everyone "good-by"—although we intended returning the same evening, if possible. I leant over the side and kissed Molly, and Gran'pa kissed Sally Rebecca (who didn't look a day older than sixty in the faint light of the early morn); and Stringer and Dr. Croft and the two pilots waved to the assembled multitude. Immediately afterwards our propellers were swung and we rose into the air like two great birds in quest of other and pleasanter climes.

As was fitting, the leading 'plane contained Gran'pa, Stringer and Oakley—Dr. Croft and myself and Newland (one of our other pilots) followed behind at a distance of about five hundred feet. We also had our mascots aboard. Mine was a small teddy bear (2 inches in height) given me by Molly; Croft's was a human knuckle bone (previously belonging to some ancient, mummified Egyptian princess); Stringer's was a carved crocodile's tooth (given him, possibly under hypnotic influence, by Njambai, the Mbenga chief); Oakley's and Newland's were a couple of green wool, miniature golliwogs; and Gran'pa's was a small photograph of Sally Rebecca (at the age of 32)—a thing of art and beauty and sentiment, perhaps, but obviously of very little value, otherwise.

We flew across the Bay of Corisco at a height of about 1,500 feet, making straight for the mouth of the Moondah, which glistened like the head of an arrow pointing towards the heart of the Gorilla Country. The air was icy cold, and clear; but by the time the sun had risen and we had crossed the Coast Range we found the way blocked by a long bank of clouds. To save time, we flew through the gaps, which, as we entered them, became huge caves. By towering cliffs and over deep chasms we passed—aflight in another world, which was every bit as solid-looking as the real one lying sunlit and green-clad beneath.

It was after passing through the last of these cloud gaps that we saw half-a-dozen miles to our right—three patches of bright red, standing out like tiny, clear-cut discs on the olive green expanse of jungle. They were the balloons which gave us the exact location of our cages. A little further on, the top of our hangar was visible as a blob of white in the one corner of a light green clearing.

Presently, Newland pulled back the throttle and pushed the joy-stick forward and we descended swiftly to a height of 1,000 feet. At that point he shut off the engine; the deep roar, which we had grown accustomed to for the last two and a half hours, was changed into the shrill whine of wind against the struts; the aeroplane flattened out, and we at last commenced our swift glide earthwards.

We landed a couple of minutes or so after our leaders, and immediately began making arrangements for our journey to the cages.

A dozen negroes from one of the neighboring tribes had been left in charge of the aerodrome for the last week, and from these we now chose six as our personal bodyguard through the jungle. Fine fellows they were—tall, powerfully built, industrious (more or less) and very willing and obedient (as becomes the properly missionarified black). They treated us with idolatrous respect, chattered excitably of the gorillas they had heard in the vicinity, and told us that the narrow pathways which they had cut to our cages were in complete readiness.

Leaving Oakley and Newland and the remainder of the negroes at the aerodrome, we soon reached the first cage, which was about a quarter of a mile away. There Stringer and I pitched camp for the day, retaining one-third of the bodyguard for porter work.

"If you have any luck," I said to Gran'pa and Dr. Croft, "send a messenger along. The first capture will probably be the most important of all. To-day is a sort of apprenticeship."

"Quite right, George! Much depends on our initial encounter with a free gorilla and whoever scores the first bull's-eye should hand on the valuable knowledge he has thereby acquired.... So long!"

Stringer and I watched them disappear into the dense green mass of the encircling jungle, and then entered our fortress and donned our female gorilla garments. We saw that our revolvers were loaded and efficient, slipped them into the "hip pockets" cut in the rear of the skins, and turned our attention to the "gas-works." A flexible green tube (artfully disguised as a trailing tendril!) was affixed to each of the two cylinders and one nozzle was placed outside and the other inside the cage. Ropes, handcuffs, and chains were also placed in readiness.

While we were thus engaged none of us spoke above the merest whisper, and the negroes themselves moved as silently as shadows. To a spectator, we should have presented a strange sight indeed. He would have seen a small, natural clearing in the jungle and a peculiar, leaf-bedecked arrangement of vertical green bars, behind which two negroes and (apparently) two gorillas were working in perfect harmony and peace. He would also have smelt a strong odor of aniseed (beloved of all animals), and, so we hoped, a reliable camouflage to our tell-tale "man-scent." Then he would have seen the centre portion of the bars slide apart and one of the gorillas emerge into the open and emit weird cries. At this point such a spectator would probably have fled (or fired!)....

The interior of the cage was painted a dull black, so that from the outside everything behind the bars was, as it were, in deep shadows, the negroes themselves being almost invisible. (Yes! We had thought of everything!)

When Stringer stepped out of our shelter and gave vent to that inhuman call signifying "food and plenty," I held my breath and listened. The air was hot, heavy, damp and oppressive—an almost tangible medium in which we were immersed from the throat downwards. Animal and insect life was silent and deathlike, but from the moisture-laden, luxurious foliage came the subdued murmur of at least one form of movement.

Drip!... Drip!... Drip!...

As Stringer cautiously advanced, he carried in his left hand that sleep-inducing nozzle connected with the gas cylinder; whilst in his right hand he held a death-inducing automatic—in case there arose the vital question: "My life or yours?"

At a distance of twenty or thirty feet from the cage he sat down on his haunches, raised his great anthropoid head to heaven, and let forth another and louder cry.There was no answer, save that eternal and infernal:

Drip!... Drip!... Drip!...

A giant tree shook itself in a slight breeze which sprang up, and I saw a snake make its way stealthily across one corner of the clearing and disappear into the underbrush.

Silence and stillness again.

And then an answering call came from the depths of the jungle. Like a cry of some triumphant and bloodthirsty accomplishment, it rose slowly upwards and upwards until it reached a pÆan of ecstacy and abandonment; then it sank into a low gurgle of animal contentment.

Was it Gran'pa, or Dr. Croft, or another gorilla?

Stringer turned his head and looked at me in a way which, in spite of his anthropoid appearance, was almost human. No doubt he was asking himself (and me), the same question.

I shook my shaggy head and waddled out into the open. There, I emitted a cry very similar to the one that we had just heard.

It was answered almost immediately, from two separate points in succession, and I knew at once that Gran'pa and Dr. Croft were now engaged in the same occupation as ourselves and that they were notifying us of the fact.

Presently, we heard and sensed the vague stir of animal life. Birds alighted on near-by trees; distant and hidden twigs and branches cracked; a little curious-visaged monkey appeared on a tree-top and watched us alertly; a brilliantly colored parrot shrieked and whistled. The denizens of the forest were at last emerging from that temporary retirement occasioned by the advent of our party from the outside world. With only a couple of playful-looking gorillas in sight, they were no doubt feeling quite at home again.

When we gave vent to our ardent appeals for the companionship of our tribe, the sounds of busy life around us continued with unabated industry—a great compliment to our power of imitative animal articulation. We, and our cage, and the statuesque negroes in the two back corners, were definitely part and parcel of the jungle. We were being accepted by its folk, sheltered by its encompassing vegetation, and warmed and moistened by its atmosphere. So acclimatized did I feel that I ventured further out into the open and joined Stringer.

"There doesn't seem to be anything doing yet," I whispered in civilized, human slang.

"It's a game of patience. We may have to wait hours or even days. We'll bring a book to read to-morrow."

"Might frighten them."

"Not if you kept it well out of sight in this long grass."

"Yes!... We could take it in turns. It would never do for both of us to get absorbed in a yarn. One would have to watch while the other read."

At this point our conversation suddenly ceased. We had heard the sharp crack of breaking twigs in some spot immediately behind us.

Turning swiftly but cautiously, we peered at the dense green tangle of leaves and branches, trying to make our gaze penetrate into the gloomy interior of the forest.

With great presence of mind, Stringer also began making little whimpering and seductive noises at the back of his throat, like a female gorilla in distress.

The noise stopped and I was conscious—with every high-strung nerve in my body!—that we were being watched. Was it with curiosity, with malicious intent, or with fear? And by what? Had the fateful hour at last struck? Were all our plans and preparations for the previous six months now to be put to the great test? Were we facing victory, or defeat—or death?

As these thoughts sped through my mind I became aware of a feeling of intense exhilaration. I was eager to see what stark and naked peril lay behind the shelter of those harmless trees and bushes. To have advanced towards the spot with the intention of making closer investigations would have been foolish. It might frighten away our unseen watcher, or lead to a sudden attack which would take us unawares.

So Stringer and I commenced slowly waddling back to our cage, with gas nozzles and revolvers in readiness for instant use. As we moved, we made a pretence of eating the plentiful supply of nuts and white-ribbed pineapple leaves which we had brought with us. At the same time we emitted alluring noises signifying "food." Surely no male gorilla, at any rate, would be able to resist this joint attraction of food and mates!

We were mistaken, however, for presently we heard faint and stealthy movements of retreat and a few moments later our ears were listening to only the constant: Drip!... Drip!... Drip!... of the jungle.

"Damn!" I whispered to Stringer.

"Don't worry!" he said. "If it's a gorilla I'll bet its curiosity will get the better of it presently and it'll return to another spot. If it is not a gorilla—then we've lost nothing!"

"True!"

I let forth another call and heard Gran'pa and Dr. Croft give their answering cries as if in mocking derision at our first failure.

"It may go ambling off to their cages," I whispered, in a spirit of intense rivalry.

"Just as good," answered Stringer.

"It isn't! We want to score the first victory."

Again we called to our kinsmen of the forest; and this time our efforts were rewarded with astonishing success.

Without the least sound or warning, the branches of the surrounding trees suddenly parted at two places at once, and there emerged into the open a couple of huge male gorillas on all fours.

They stopped, stared first at us, and then at one another.

"Rivals for our hands—by jingo!" whispered Stringer, with a nervous attempt at humor.

"I hope to goodness they don't fight!" I answered.

For fully a minute they sat there on their haunches, supporting themselves with their long arms and glaring at each other with hatred, but indecision.

Suddenly the larger one arose and commenced moving slowly in our direction, using its arms as sort of crutches. It looked Stringer straight in the face, and Stringer returned the gaze with all the unwavering calmness of his magnetic soul!

The other brute also began waddling towards us and, as it did so, the first turned its head, struck its immense chest with its hands and let forth roar upon roar of defiance. It bared its teeth, rapidly oscillated its eyebrows, and assumed the most threatening attitude it could command.

Its smaller rival hesitated—as well it might—then it looked covetously in my direction and I could see from the way it eyed me that it was not going to be intimidated in this manner. I adopted an air of complete indifference and went on pretending to eat my pineapple leaves. Whether it was the tasty food or me it wanted I would not be conceited enough to say; but, anyway, it decided to fight.

With a sharp bark and a roar like thunder the two gorillas were upon one another in an instant.

The sight was magnificent, but awful. The great, muscular brutes tore at each other's throats with their hands (and even their feet); they twisted and turned and contorted themselves; they bit; they scratched; and they screamed out their hatred in every key conceivable. The brutality of two men fighting to the death was a mere, friendly sparring match compared with this. They fought without conforming to any rules of sport, without mercy, and without respite. Pieces of hairy skin were torn off by tooth and claw; arms and legs were wrenched and twisted to breaking point; heads were thrust back in an endeavor to get at the throat; and bodies were lacerated with pieces of broken wood as the two infuriated and interlocked monsters flung themselves hither and thither on the earth.

Once, their powerful, wide-open jaws met one against the other in a hideous clash and something white and glistening flew out on to the grass. It was a broken tooth! The strength they were exerting must have been tremendous—sufficient to crush a man to jelly—and yet neither seemed able to gain any decisive advantage over the other.

For nearly a couple of minutes we watched with horror and fascination this deadly combat between two of the cruellest and most vindictive brutes in the whole of the animal world. We could do nothing but stare breathlessly at the scene, and thank God that we were not actively involved as well.

At last, however, one of us spoke.

"We must stop this," whispered Stringer, hoarsely. "They'll kill each other."

"What can we do—except shoot?"

"There's ... this!" he answered quietly. "If we can get near enough."

He held up the nozzle of the gas projector.

"By jove!" I said. "Of course!"

I gave the prearranged sign to the two scared negroes crouching in the cage and they turned on the cocks of the cylinders.

As the gas began sizzling out of the flexible tubes, we fixed over our nostrils the breathing apparatus connected with the filters which we carried on our backs.

Then we advanced stealthily towards the gyrating mass of animal fury and played on it.

The miraculous happened. Gradually, the monsters relinquished their stranglehold. It was as if sudden exhaustion had seized them. They sat down on their haunches, like two worn-out old men, panting for breath, dazed and clearly very surprised.

One of them made a whimpering noise, opened its mouth in a vain endeavor to escape the suffocating effects of the gas, passed its arm wearily across its face as if to wipe something away—and suddenly collapsed.

The other attempted to escape. But its legs and arms were too weak to propel its great body and a moment or so later it, too, lay down with a deep grunt of contentment.I shouted to the negroes—shouted at the top of my voice in modern English:

"Hustle, there!"

They understood.

Without a second's delay they came running out to us with all the paraphernalia of bondage—ropes, chains, handcuffs, and sacks.

I gave Stringer my gas projector, asked him to keep the two brutes quiet while I fetched the ether, and told the negroes to hold their breath until they had dropped their burden and retreated again.

For the next five minutes we were four of the busiest people on earth. We substituted ether for gas, got the gorillas into a nice pliable condition of utter unconsciousness, handcuffed their hands behind their backs, tied up their legs in sacks, wound their arms and bodies round and round with ropes and chains, and then withdrew to our cage, where we took a cool and refreshing draught of lime-juice and water.

The perspiration was running from us. The gorilla is an immense brute weighing from two hundred to two hundred and fifty pounds, and the trussing up of that amount of dead weight in the damp tropical heat had demanded tremendous exertions. Even the great six-foot negroes looked exhausted.

"Well!" I said to Stringer, "how's that for the first morning's bag?"

"Great! Won't the others be jealous!"

"Won't they just! We'll send them word at once."

I despatched the two blacks with our message of victory, turned to the wire which held our balloon captive, hauled down the bright red ball to earth, fastened the Stars and Stripes and the Union Jack beneath it, and let it up into the air again. This was our simple method of requesting Oakley and Newland to send carriers from the aerodrome.

"Now," I said, "let's go and inspect the vanquished!"

They lay there on the green grass as peaceful as little children asleep in their cots, and to look at them lying thus it was difficult to imagine that they were the same two beings that less than ten minutes previously, had been locked in deadly combat.

Their coats were of an iron-gray color, due to alternate rings of black and gray on the individual hairs—which were quite two inches long on the arms. The skin was black and naked on the face, the breast and the palms of the hands; the head was covered in short, reddish brown hair; the eyes were deeply sunken, and lay beneath overhanging ridges of bone, which gave the face an expression of scowling savagery; and the wide mouth was fringed by sharply-cut lips which were drawn back so as to expose the huge and powerful canines.

In spite of the ferocity of their recent encounter, they were practically undamaged, excepting for a few skin wounds and contusions. We anointed several wounds with carbolic ointment, removed a particle of broken wood which was embedded in the smaller gorilla's thigh, propped the two brutes up against a couple of tree trunks, and then stepped back and awaited their return to consciousness.

Stringer's suitor awoke first. He was in such a position that he could see us, but not his rival, and no doubt his first impression was that he had won the fight—but had naturally been left very bruised and exhausted. He looked at Stringer and me with what was very nearly an expression of quiet triumph and he seemed to invite our approach.We spoke to him soothingly, trying to convey to his numbed brain that all danger was over and that prosperity (in the shape of food) lay before us all.

He listened intelligently, gave a little grunt of satisfaction and tried to join us.

The sudden realization that it was impossible to move any part of himself save his head must have proved a terrible shock. We saw him inflate his immense chest to its fullest capacity, strain at his bonds, and then relax into a condition of panting impotence.

By this time, my own suitor had regained consciousness and was also endeavoring to reach us.

Neither of them showed the least trace of anger or fear—a remarkable fact when one considers their position of helpless bondage. Had they seen each other, the situation would no doubt have developed into another display of tempestuous fury, but, as it was, they made no sound other than that of labored breathing. Possibly, they had experienced this feeling of returning consciousness and helplessness before, and were convinced that it would presently pass off. It was one of the symbols of victory.

I put my mouth to Stringer's ear and whispered:

"Let's get nearer and see if they still suffer from the delusion that we are of the same blood."

Apparently they did; and Stringer actually had the temerity to reach out a hairy arm and stroke his gorilla on the head. The poor brute shut its eyes in mild contentment.

Could anything have been more pitiably human than this great monster succumbing to such a kindly caress? Were not all those stories of the untamable ferocity of the male gorilla merely due to ignorance and superstition? Were these animals any more malignant and savage than we should be, had we to face the same daily perils of life in the jungle?

I recalled Gran'pa's display of murderous intent on that terrible night when I had tried to coax him from his dug-out into the warm shelter of a house, and I could see that external conditions accounted for a great deal, even in human conduct. How much more so must this have been the case with animals.

Here were these two poor, misguided brutes, shattered and dazed by recent battle, asking for comfort and kindness, and when it was administered to them (by the women of their own species!) they became as little children. It was a touching sight, and I was so pleased with Stringer's achievement that I could not refrain from leaning forward to stroke my own captive.

But the brute was suspicious (smelling beneath the aniseed, perhaps, a whiff of that hate-inducing scent of MAN), and it suddenly showed its ill-temper in a quick jerk of the head, a clash of white teeth and a guttural snarl. The fingers of my right hand were saved by less than an inch and the tenth of a second.

"You would, would you?" I said, completely forgetting my anthropoid part.

At the sound of my human voice it barked again, and as it did so, Stringer's gorilla twisted its head round, saw its rival still in the land of the living, and let up a terrible, rolling roar of defiance.

Pandemonium broke loose again. The two animals screamed and barked and roared at one another as if they were mad—each probably under the impression that the other was responsible for the ropes and chains of bondage. They strained and twisted at their shackles until I began to fear that they would break. I could have sworn that I heard something snap.And so I had; for at the opposite side of the clearing an immense gorilla was standing, erect and uncertain, clutching in its hands the broken and leafless bough of a tree.

"Look out!" I warned Stringer.

He swung round in the direction I pointed, and for one awful half-minute there was a dead silence, as the whole five of us stood watching one another for the first sign of attack.

Revolvers in hand, Stringer and I came together and commenced backing towards the cage. But before we could reach it, the newcomer was after us on all fours—running along the ground like a bent old man, with incredible speed and ungainliness.

We didn't wait the hundredth part of a second. Nor, thank heaven, did we fire. I don't believe we could have hit the brute had we tried.

We simply turned, rushed pell mell for our shelter, scrambled inside, slammed the trap doors to, and retreated to the farthest corner.

With an ear-splitting roar, the monster flung itself at the bars, bending them and shaking the whole cage with the force of its impact.

"Quick!" I cried. "Turn on that blooming gas!"

There was no time to bother about gas masks. I picked up the nearest tube, held my breath, and thrust the projector right between the hideous brute's open jaws.

They came together with a horrible crunch, there was a choking splutter of rage, and a moment later the poor wretch had followed its predecessors' swift flight to the realms of sleep. Heaving a deep sigh, I shouted to Stringer:

"This is our busy day!"The next second I saw Stringer, the gorilla, the cage and the whole jungle spin round, turn a somersault and begin converging in on me. I thought:

"We're nose-diving ... side-slipping.... Now for the crash!... Ugh!"

I shut my eyes tightly, terrified by the sudden drumming of blood in my ears, and felt all sensation of touch slipping from my limbs and body. The sounds of the outside world grew fewer and fainter, and I heard the beating of my heart quieten down into a little murmur of weary contentment.

"This is death!" I thought, without fear or excitement.

Then I seemed to leave the falling aeroplane and ascend rapidly into space.

I saw the stars winking at me in a pitch black sky and performing phantasmagoric dances; but presently these, too, disappeared and I was alone in an infinite void, without light, or sound, or movement. In some strange way I still had the power of thought, but every vestige of sensation had been taken from me.

"Is this life after death?" I asked myself dispassionately.

My mind struggled with the problem, trying its utmost to achieve some form of activity. But it had no eyes, no hands, no limbs, no ears, no nose, no mouth, with which to accomplish anything. It was steam without the engine, electricity without the motor, energy without the necessary mechanism for transmitting it to power, soul without the body.

"Let me die outright!" I prayed. "Annihilation is better than this mere mentality afloat in nothing...."

A little twinkle of light showed itself in the utter darkness. Then another, and another. And again the stars came into being.

But, by this time they were receding and I began dropping back to the dear old earth.

"This is resurrection!" I thought gladly. "Life—and Movement!..."

I felt my body returning to me as something warm, and sensitive, and oh! so human! Never was home more welcome to a weary traveller than was this uprush of sensuous consciousness to my isolated and lonely brain.

As the first sounds of the outside world broke on my ears again, I opened my eyes and was surprised to find myself contemplating the intense blue of a tropical sky.

I was lying on the grass, a few yards from our cage, and when I raised my head I saw Stringer panting and puffing over the prostrate form of our latest capture. Single-handed, he was trying to bind the brute's arms and legs.

"What's happened?" I cried, sitting up dizzily.

"You got a whiff of that gas, young man, and I had to drag you out into the open. If you can, give me a hand before he comes round."

I pulled myself together, got on my hands and feet, and crawled over to Stringer's side. There, I managed to render a little help.

"Did you—give it a ... sniff of ether?" I gasped between by exertions.

"Yes!"

"You must have been pretty quick."

"Never hustled so much in my life...."

"This is absurd," I said. "We can't continue raking in gorillas at this rate all day. The strain's too great."I wiped my perspiring brow and helped to tie the last knot.

"The other two seem to be very quiet," remarked Stringer.

We turned and looked at them. They were sitting just as they had been placed, perfectly still and upright, and showed clear signs of the deepest interest in our movements. Naturally, they had never seen anything like this before and must have been almost hypnotized with amazement. Once the elements of fear and anger are eliminated, it is probable that the anthropoid ape is capable of experiencing emotions very similar to our own. They can feel pity, affection, astonishment and—most of all—intense curiosity.

Apparently, they did not fear us and were not angry with us (or even with one another, now) but their curiosity must have been tremendous. Nothing else could account for their quiet behavior under such circumstances. It might be argued that the pressure of their bonds would hurt sufficiently to enrage even the most curious brute, but I think that the pain from the wounds caused in the fight would, in their opinion, account for all such discomforts. Their reasoning powers, equal to those of an eighteen months old child, were too limited to connect Stringer and myself with most of their troubles, and no doubt they still looked on us as two harmless and inoffensive females of their own species.

When our third captive regained consciousness, however, he must have told them of his suspicions, for I distinctly heard him give the DANGER call. It was followed by a guttural sound in a low key—an anthropoid expression with which I was not familiar. It may have been equivalent to "Impostors!" or "Spiteful Beasts!" or "Bad Characters!" Gorillas must meet such animals in their own tribe, and it is probable that they can express their resentment of the fact to one another.

It is only human conceit which makes us think that character-reading, with the allied arts of backbiting and slander, are peculiar to our own species. Many of the so-called "dumb" brutes may be just as proficient as we are in telling one another exactly what they think of a third animal. In any case, I am convinced that our last victim gave us away to the other two.

The noise which they all began making was terrible. It must have been audible two or three miles away, and was evidently an exhibition of rage, with the intention of frightening us away.

"D'you think they're calling for help?" I asked Stringer. "If so, we'd better get back into the cage again."

"I don't like it," he shouted in reply. "Why haven't those infernal natives returned by now? And when are those stretcher bearers from the aerodrome going to arrive?"

I could feel in my bones that something tragic had happened—or was going to happen—or might happen! What was it? Whence would it come?

I scanned the encircling trees and when my gaze alighted on the first two gorillas I saw a sight which held me spellbound. The bushes immediately behind the smaller of the brutes had suddenly been thrust aside, and there emerged another of these jungle folk with an uplifted hand, bearing a club-shaped piece of wood.

It flashed through my startled brain that this ferocious-looking newcomer was about to strike one of our defenceless captives—an unthinkable crime—a piece of animal "awfulness" which could not be tolerated by even the most callous human being.

There was only one way of preventing this sudden and dastardly attack, and I chose it unhesitatingly. Raising my automatic, I cried out to Stringer, hooked my finger round the trigger and pulled.

But I was too late. The strangest thing in the world had happened. Stringer's hand had shot forth with incredible swiftness, struck up my own, and diverted the bullet into the tree-tops.

"Good God!" he shouted, "Are you blind, man?"

I peered through the clearing smoke.

"Well, I'm damned!" I said.