From what little we already knew of the anthropoid apes and from what the natives told us, we soon realized the improbability of discovering a very young gorilla without its mother. Even then, it would be necessary to sacrifice life before a capture could be effected.

It took over two hours to convince Gran'pa of the likelihood of having to shoot at least one female gorilla. Fortunately, I was not yet well enough to take part in the affair, and so the objectionable task fell to the lot of Stringer and Dr. Croft.

For the first time in the history of our campaign we sent forth a detachment of our party with the sole aim of killing—like "real sportsmen," as Gran'pa said with bitter cynicism.

To our eternal shame, this is what happened.

Armed with guns and accompanied by two natives, Stringer and Croft were walking cautiously and quietly through the forest when they heard the wail of a young gorilla—a harsh, half-moaning sound, quite unlike any cry uttered by the adult.

The heavy silence of mid-day was upon the woods, and the four assassins crept noiselessly towards the spot where the baby was spasmodically conversing with its mother and, possibly, its father—who would be doubly dangerous when protecting his wife and offspring.

Croft's heart was beating furiously, Stringer's eyebrows and moustache were bristling with excitement, and the two negroes were showing a very evident desire for flight. One can understand the emotions of the party, for this was their first attempt at big game stalking.

Presently, through a sheltering screen of branches and leaves, they had their first vision of what might be called the domestic side of gorilladom.

A young gorilla was seated on the ground, enjoying a meal of berries; whilst a yard or so further away sat its mother, who was also having lunch. Stringer says that it was a pretty and interesting sight. I believe him.

With a quiet courage, born possibly of intense curiosity, Stringer, Croft and the two natives lay down on the earth, hardly daring to breathe, their guns in readiness, determined to wait awhile—and watch....

So far, there were no signs of the dread paterfamilias, but before a couple of minutes had passed, the bush moved and the huge husband waddled forth. He looked a trifle uneasy, as if sensing some vague, antagonistic presence, and his wicked and cunning little eyes seemed to search the surrounding foliage in bloodthirsty anticipation of slaughter.

After glancing round at him, his wife called her child, with a low guttural cluck. It ran over to her immediately and flung its arms round her neck, its legs round her body, and its face against her chest—the very picture of human infantile shyness!

Apparently, the female gorilla's sensitiveness to danger would shame the most coy and retiring woman ever created.

Without waiting for a word of real warning from her lord and master, she gave vent to a loud scream and took to instant flight. Meanwhile, the male protector erected himself to his full height. He then let up a deep, challenging roar of defiance and smote at his chest with clenched fists, as if beating himself into a fury.

Both Stringer and Croft afterwards stated that, at this point, the powers of human reason and kindliness forsook them. They became mere machines behind the gleaming barrels of the guns—sportsmen, relentlessly driven into action by the spirit of the chase—or the spirit of self-defence—or, what you will.

They fired almost simultaneously, and both the adult gorillas fell mortally wounded, the baby still clinging to its mother and crying pitifully. "Hoo!... Hoo!..."

Ashamed and trembling, Stringer and Croft waited in ambush for a few moments, before they prepared to take the little one from its dead mother.

Still clutching her neck and body, it kept its face half-buried in her chest; but the moment its enemies came into the open it turned and screamed at them with all the inherited savagery of its race.

Then, with extraordinary courage, it suddenly rushed at one of the natives, bit him in the leg, and rapidly retreated to a small tree.

A second later, it was sitting aloft, shouting vindictive threats at its aggressors.

A council of war was held. No one showed the least inclination to try and capture this mere two-year-old baby boy. Apart from its biting capacity, it was probably much stronger than a full grown man—and certainly twice as nimble.

But in the end, as Gran'pa had so often insisted, brains will tell. Stringer, who had secretly profited by his circus experience in the old lion-taming days, gave a little exhibition in the gentle art of lassoing—under difficulties.

After an extremely thrilling performance, lasting over half-an-hour, Little Willie, as he was eventually called, was brought home, ignominiously and under great protest, in a sack.

Never have I met such a two-foot bundle of savagery and cunning. Four men could hold him more or less comfortably; three, uncomfortably; two, with the utmost difficulty; and, one—I shudder to think what would have happened....

When he and Gran'pa were first introduced to one another, Little Willie was sitting peacefully at the end of his fully extended chain, deeply absorbed in one of his toe-nails.

"Well, old chap?" said Gran'pa, affably.

No answer.

"Poor little fellow! I expect he's pretty homesick, George!"

No doubt Gran'pa's intentions were of the best. He merely wanted to be friendly and, at the same time, to examine our little captive more closely. So, after carefully satisfying himself that there was no risk of being bitten, Gran'pa approached still nearer, stooped, and made further remarks signifying comradeship.

Little Willie ignored him for about half a minute. Then he turned his head slightly, as though measuring the distance which separated him from this new and talkative specimen of humanity.

The next moment a hairy foot shot out; there was a gorilla scream of revengeful glee, a human yell of alarm and pain, a sound of scuffling and tearing—and Little Willie quickly retreated, holding a piece of trouser-leg in his left foot.

Unsatisfied with Gran'pa's curses and this tangible emblem of victory (which was now in Little Willie's mouth), the sprightly gorilla-child next dashed across to an amused native, severely bit him in the leg, and then described a large circle round the stake to which his chain was fastened.

Apparently, he wanted to make a clean sweep of all spectators. He accomplished his desire quite easily. The natives ran for their lives. Gran'pa and I hurriedly withdrew; and Stringer, who had been coming in our direction, suddenly stopped—and thought better of it.

"Cunning little beast!" grunted Gran'pa, exploring his bruised shin through the hole in his trouser leg.

"I told you he was dangerous!" I said.

"Dangerous, yes! But you didn't say treacherous!"

"Is it any worse," I asked, "than our dressing up as lady gorillas and gassing our innocent admirers?"

"Er ... put that way, perhaps not. Still, we must be very careful...."

"I always am!" I observed, thinking of the air of indifference displayed by Gran'pa when I had once been chased by a snake in the jungle.

"Don't goad me, George! It was perfectly natural to try if the little fellow was amenable to ordinary human kindness?"

Stringer had joined us by now and expressed the opinion that all gorillas, especially male, were absolutely untamable and that it was a waste of time to appeal to their better nature, because they had none.

"We shall see...." said Gran'pa mysteriously.

Unfortunately, we didn't; for the next day Little Willie performed the same gymnastic feat on Oakley. The only difference was that, instead of procuring a piece of cloth as a reward, he removed a small portion of Oakley's flesh.

So much for a newly-captured baby gorilla as a possible pet.As a decoy, however, Little Willie was much more promising, and a week or so after his compulsory enlistment in the services of the aged we took him out to his native jungle again.

Staking him in the centre of a small clearing in the forest—as near as possible to the new gorilla haunt discovered by Nchago—Croft and I donned our gorilla garb and retired to the cage.

Instead of sitting in the open and calling for mates, we intended giving Little Willie the honor of notifying the females of his race that he was in dire need of help and comfort.

He did this admirably and almost incessantly, while several yards away from him lay a circle of half-a-dozen hidden nozzles connected with the "gas-works."

Exactly what he said was not known to us. He may have been merely complaining of the great difficulty of escaping to the shelter of the forest. Or, he may have been shouting out the names of his friends and relations.

Once or twice, he made that pathetic noise of "Hoo!... Hoo!..." as if pondering on the tenderness of his years and bemoaning the harshness of life.

Still as death, we sat huddled in our cage, watching and waiting!

The minutes dragged by into hours. Noon came, with its strange silence and stifling heat. A long way off, we heard the bark of a male gorilla. Later, the scream of a startled female.

As this last sound reached him, Little Willie gave a loud cry of distress and tugged wildly at his chain. Then silence again.

I looked at my watch. In two hours' time we should have to start our flight back to Corisco.

Stealthily and silently, Croft and I partook of food and drink. We needed it. So, no doubt, did poor Little Willie; but it would have been very unwise to have left our cage in order to feed him. In the gloomy shelter of the surrounding bush, we knew not how many pairs of eyes might even now be watching—how many gorilla hearts might be on the point of responding to his plaintive appeals.

Throughout the whole of our African adventures I think that none had been as trying and nerve-racking as the present. It was a terrible strain to keep still and silent when we might have been gambolling in the open, calling for male companionship.

Every jungle sound, too, was magnified by our alert brains into something of tremendous importance. A cracking twig or branch immediately betokened the hesitating steps of some curious gorilla. An unusual cry or movement on the part of Willie was instantly interpreted as a sign that he had seen or heard one of his kinsfolk.

Our disappointments were innumerable, and our faith in the gorilla's "human" nature was being undermined with every passing minute. It was inconceivable that none of Willie's own people had heard his cries. Why, then, had they not answered? Were they so utterly inhuman that no appeal, however pitiful, could penetrate their selfishness?

I half expected such depravity of the males, but I could not bring myself to believe it of the females. Nchago had told me that he once saw a mother gorilla tenderly stroking the head of her child as it fed at her breast. If she could do that, why could she not understand and respond to Little Willie's cries for maternal comfort? Were the gorilla's nobler instincts confined solely to its own children?At three o'clock in the afternoon I lost hope completely and grew reckless enough to stretch my arms and legs.

In sympathy, Croft did likewise.

"Confound these shy and sensitive females...." he whispered. "There's only half-an-hour left."

As if he were able to read our thoughts and was very anxious to help us, Little Willie threw back his head and gave a great cry of distress—a sort of last whining appeal to the better nature of his male and female relations in general.

In the ensuing silence, it seemed as though the whole jungle was listening—and hesitating. Not a tree moved; not a branch; not a leaf. Coincidental as it must have been, that childlike wail of anguish was followed by all nature suddenly becoming inanimate.

Even Croft and I had turned to stone, so expectant were we, so convinced of the imminence of great events.

Then the tension relaxed.

A neighboring tree stirred, a small, brightly colored bird flew by with a startled tweet, twigs began cracking, and Little Willie ran along on all fours until he was roughly pulled up by the jerk of his fully-extended chain. Back again in the opposite direction he scampered, excitedly muttering to himself the while.

There was now no doubt whatever that his quick eyes had seen something. He emitted a long drawn "Hoo—oo—oo!..." repeated it, and finally lost his self-control in a fit of gibbering ecstasy.

A second later, the reward of all those long hours of patience was at hand. The bush parted, the hideous face of an adult gorilla appeared in the opening, a low "cluck-cluck!" proceeded from its great, projecting muzzle, and Little Willie commenced wildly dancing up and down on his hands and feet.

The newcomer hesitated before advancing into the open, but I was already convinced by its action, its build and its voice that it belonged to the female persuasion—which was exactly what we wanted.

As the brute cautiously waddled into full view I saw that she was long past her prime. Her hair was grayish, her back bowed with age, and her gait awkward and jerky, a veritable grandmother.

My disappointment at this unexpected development was so keen that I nearly shouted at her to go away. From Little Willie's point of view she was undoubtedly a great success, for he put his arms around her at once; but from our own, and more humanitarian point of view, she was useless. Only a lunatic would think of trying to rejuvenate himself with the glands of a grandmother gorilla. The thing was ridiculous and, in our enthusiasm for the cause, wholly unanticipated. What we required were young, virile gorillas, not doddering old females.

I glanced at Croft through the corner of my eyes, forgetting for the moment that any dismay which he might be feeling would naturally be hidden behind his gorilla mask.

When I looked round again at Little Willie and his companion, I was surprised to find that three other gorillas were now approaching, and—what was still more exciting—they were youthful and active—and feminine.

"Aunts!" I thought. "Or, possibly, sisters...."

Without further speculation as to the precise relationships involved in this family reunion, I leant carefully forward, found the taps of the cylinders, and turned on the gas.

For nearly half-a-minute Little Willie and his fair companions continued their affectionate demonstrations. They examined him, chattered amicably with one another, and showed an intelligent but suspicious interest in his chain.

Presently, the grandmother of the party heaved a deep sigh, disentangled herself from Willie's embraces and settled down contentedly for an afternoon nap. At the same time, her foundling crept over to her, placed his face against her chest, and sympathetically joined her in slumber.

The other three ladies looked puzzled and stupefied; then slightly alarmed. They commenced sauntering back to the bush, where they probably intended sleeping off the effect of this strange tired feeling which had seized them.

We watched them calmly, staking the reputation of our gas against their waning powers of locomotion. Their great difficulty was to use their long arms in the normal way—as a species of crutches—and before they had gone a couple of yards it was clear that whatever else happened, a short recuperative rest was first essential.

"One ... two ... three ..." counted Croft, as they capitulated. "Nice little bag of flappers, eh?"

After those six weary hours of silence, I laughed aloud. It was, indeed, a fitting reward for our exemplary patience—and wouldn't Gran'pa (and Sally Rebecca) be pleased?

"So that's that!" I said. "Now let's get into our gas masks."

We donned our protectors, opened the door of the cage, and swaggered forth to truss up the fruits of victory.

With the grace and skill that comes of long practice, we first bound and handcuffed the three younger females. Then we turned to the grandmother.

It was at this point that the usual thing happened—the unexpected. It seems characteristic of any well-organized jungle always to spring some surprise on human intruders.

About half-a-dozen yards to the rear of us, a sudden roll of thunder burst from the bush. Without attempting to finish the job we already had on hand, we swung round in the direction of the newcomer, just in time to see him advance into the open.

He was extremely angry, as any faithful husband naturally would be at seeing one (or more) of his wives lying bound and helpless on the grass; and he signified his emotion in the usual theatrical way.

First, he stood erect; then he smote himself on the chest, as if he were beating a drum; finally, he broke into a long roar, which ended in a series of staccato barks.

I saw Croft shiver through his gorilla skin, and knew that he had a similar vision of me. Except for our disarming and feminine disguise, we were unprotected. In our haste we had left our revolvers in the cage. But, thank heavens, we had not turned off the gas. Therein lay our one hope of victory.

Realizing the importance of pacific measures, I raised my gas mask for a moment and gave the low guttural call of the female to its mate. So did Croft.

But the huge brute, which was now hardly a dozen feet away, was not going to be hoodwinked in this manner. He may have believed that we were friendly disposed females of his own race, but apparently he intended demanding an explanation of our conduct. What had we been doing to the others? Why were they lying there wounded?

He struck himself again—and there we sat, gibbering with fear and contrition, in the midst of that invisible cloud of gas.

"?*?*?" said Croft, softly and seductively.

I tried to echo his sentiments, but couldn't. The great, terrifying bulk was so near that I could hear its breath coming out in deep gasps, could see into its cavernous mouth—black-lipped, white-fanged and hideous. My limbs were dead and useless, my throat dry, and my heart pounding madly at my ribs.

I saw the brute raise his hand to strike, and waited for the shock with a half-stupefied feeling of resignation.

But the blow never matured. At the last second of the eleventh hour, his energy and anger forsook him. With a deep groan, he lurched forward, blundered on to me (as I fell backwards), and sprawled face downwards on the grass.

As though escaping from the clutches of some hideous nightmare, I felt the power of movement returning. My arms and legs twitched playfully, the warm blood coursed through my back again, my hair subsided, and my mouth instinctively opened to let forth a loud cry for help.

Croft was at my side instantly, tugging at the dead weight which lay across my legs. Bruised and shaken, I wriggled my way back to freedom. Then we staggered over to the cage, gulped down a brandy, pocketed our revolvers and returned to the fray.

Ten minutes later, all the gorillas, except Little Willie, were safely bound, the gas was turned off and we were sitting in the cage again, slowly recuperating. The perspiration was streaming from me, my hands and knees were trembling, and I felt as weak as a man recovering from a severe attack of influenza.

"It—never rains—but it pours!" panted Croft.

"Yes!" I gasped. "Even the perspiration!... We're understaffed. It's too much—for only two of us."

Having no desire for further captures that afternoon, we presently fired half-a-dozen revolver shots to scare off any intending intruders and then let up the balloons with a string of five Stars and Stripes and Union Jacks attached, as a signal to the aerodrome.

With a very luke-warm interest, after so much excitement, we watched the gorillas slowly regain consciousness, and listened sympathetically to the male's language when he fully awoke to the general state of affairs. It must have been extremely galling to find himself sitting bound, helpless and dazed, after the dramatic and promising appearance which he had made only a few minutes previously. But to suffer this indignity in full view of his womenfolk must indeed have been draining the cup of misery to the dregs.

Whether or not the others were taunting him I do not know, but after listening to some of their softer and more ladylike remarks, he broke out into a terrible paroxysm of fury, glaring in our direction and barking and roaring at us for quite five minutes with hardly a pause for breath. Add to this deafening noise the encouraging screams of the three young females, the croaks of the old grandmother, and the harsh yells of Little Willie as he dashed to and fro, deliberately fanning the flames of hatred and revenge. The result may be imagined. Our bruised nerves threatened to give way under the strain.

"Give 'em a little gas, for the love of glory!" shouted Croft.

In this way we quietened them down, until Gran'pa arrived from the aerodrome, followed by a single file of stretcher bearers.

"This is very gratifying, George," he said. "When I counted those flags I could hardly believe my eyes. You get extraordinary luck. Everything you touch seems to turn to—gorilla!"

The gas having been cut off, the chorus of hate broke loose again.

"We can't have this din," shouted Gran'pa.

"I don't see how you'll get your gorilla without it," I cried. "It's those wretched females that keep the old man going. I believe he'd have enough sense to remain quiet if he were by himself."

Gran'pa watched them for awhile.

"Yes," he said at last. "You can see that they're deliberately inciting him to shout us down—evidently under the impression that if only they scream hard enough we shall funk it and run. Just like some of our own women, George...."

I was not in the mood for cheap cynicism. All I wanted was peace, comfort, and Corisco.

"We've very little time to waste," I yelled. "What are you going to do?"

"Take them as they are," he answered. "Once we get them separated they may calm down a bit."

Plunging boldly into the midst of the inferno of noise, we first lifted the three young females on to the stretchers and despatched them to the aerodrome, with Croft in charge of the procession.Then we turned to the gray-haired grandmother, who had shouted herself so hoarse that she could now speak hardly above a whisper.

Gran'pa looked down at her, with a kindly light in his eyes, as if he understood only too well what it was to be old and decrepit.

"The really humane thing," he said, during a comparative calm, "would be to ask her to join the Rejuvenation Club. But the other members might object. So we'll let her end her days in peace. She seems a decent old lady—a little rugged and repulsive-looking, judged by our own standards of beauty, but probably quite a respected member of society in the jungle.... Very interesting, George! Do these old people support themselves, or are they dependent on their children and grandchildren, I wonder...."

Gran'pa's speculative garrulity irritated me. I still felt far too jumpy to respond to his feeble attempts at humor.

"Why not spend a few days with her?" I suggested. "Dressed up as her eldest daughter, you could obtain quite an insight into gorilla life."

"Too risky!" he laughed. "The other girls might be jealous—which would only lead to discord."

"On the other hand, you might get an offer of marriage from some wealthy young bachelor."

"You flatter me, George!"

"Not at all! You've just the build and ... becoming appearance...."

"Now you're getting merely rude, George.... Give me a hand with papa!"

We lifted the roaring mass of bone and muscle on to the stretcher, tucked him in, so to speak, and then turned our attention to Little Willie.It was terrible to see such rage in one so young. He must have been repeating every oath in the gorilla vocabulary. He also showed us every tooth in his head, tore savagely at his chain, and even flung handfuls of turf at us. But we knew how to deal with these childish tantrums. A novice might have tried smacking him—and so might one of his own people. Our method was much safer. A straight six-foot branch, forked at the one end, is the best device I know for leading baby gorillas quietly home.

After about five minutes' active manoeuvring, Gran'pa managed to place the fork against Little Willie's neck, the chain being held just slack enough to permit of sufficient room for breathing purposes.

"Now!" said Gran'pa, kindly but firmly.

His captive made what was no doubt a fitting reply, caught hold of the branch in both hands, tried to bite it, found the feat a gymnastic impossibility, and ignominiously gave in. Sitting down, he awaited developments.

"Come along!" requested Gran'pa, tugging at the chain and stick.

Little Willie was wise. He followed Gran'pa much in the same playful and affectionate way that a monkey follows an organ grinder.

When they were twenty yards or so away I loosened the old lady gorilla's bonds sufficiently to allow her to escape—after a little necessary ingenuity—and hurried after Gran'pa.

A couple of hours later we were all safely back in Corisco.

In one day we had demonstrated beyond question that not only could baby gorillas communicate with their own people, but also that the female adults were creatures capable of exhibiting an astonishing depth of devotion towards the young. Furthermore, our total number of live and serviceable gorillas had leapt from eleven to fifteen—a progress sufficiently noteworthy to impress Gran'pa with a sense of even my importance.

That same evening, he said:

"We're getting on, George, although it's a much longer job than I expected when we first came out here. We must be patient, however. At any moment there may be a new idea come along which will cause a landslide—and we shall capture a whole jungleful of 'em. I feel much more hopeful now you've joined up again...."