He allowed time for the announcement to penetrate into my startled brain.
". . . Gorillas?" I asked, at last.
"Yes . . . !"
"It's absurd! You couldn't get enough of them to do any good. You might shoot half-a-dozen in a whole year, and . . ."
"Who said 'shoot'? I want them alive, man, not dead!"
"Have you ever read anything about gorillas?" I asked, quietly.
"A great deal during the last few weeks. They're easily the most ferocious and terrifying beasts in the world. Du Chaillu says that the gorilla is the monarch of the African forest—that no other animal on earth dare face it when it is enraged. Practically every game hunter of any standing agrees on this point. Even a man armed with a modern gun runs grave risks in an encounter with a gorilla. If the bullet misses . . ." Gran'pa shrugged his shoulders.
"And yet you stand there," I said, "and tell me that you intend capturing them!"
"That's the whole charm of the thing. We have to devise some method, George, of not only getting them in large quantities, but of getting them alive and well. Every gorilla killed will represent the death sentence of some human being—the loss of a new lease of life. That's a terrible thought, George. It means a very great responsibility. . . ."
"Nonsense! People have been dying from old age ever since the world began."