The more I pondered on the matter, the more was I struck by the dangerous novelty of our undertaking. Elephants might be shot for their tusks, tigers and leopards for their skins, bears for their fur, and hundreds of other animals for the love of the chase. But we were far superior to this form of sport. We were going out with the express intention of getting "the goods"—these terrible monarchs of the African jungle—in all their living and ferocious glory. I had little doubt that Gran'pa had already thought out some method, but I didn't see how it could be of the slightest use unless backed by actual, practical experience—of which he had none.
I closed the book I had been reading, handed it back to the librarian, mentally shook myself, and emerged once more into the sunny streets of civilization. For the first time that day I found the sight of my fellow creatures comforting and soothing. My enthusiasm was as great as ever, but it was tinctured by a grim realization of the extreme difficulty of our task.
I could see that a gorilla in the bush was far worse than two in a menagerie. Alfred, for all his ferocity, had been no more than a pale ghost of his wild brothers in the woods. Confinement and our wretched English climate must have softened his physique, even if they hadn't softened his temper. And yet I shuddered at the thought of meeting Alfred loose, in Richmond Park, say, and having to capture him alive. Jiujitsu would be useless; so would lassoing, or boxing, or wrestling. The strength of even half a dozen men rolled into one would be no match for such a colossal and muscular mechanism.
I could think of no reliable method save the very one which was taboo—a steady aim, the right moment, a sudden explosion, and the deadly bullet. What could Gran'pa's plan be? I gave it up. Neither my brains (nor my glands) were equal to the solution of such a problem, and so I cast about for something of more immediate interest—and had lunch.
After that, I felt much quieter, and the African jungle temporarily receded to its proper position in suburban life.
The afternoon was still before me, but I felt too much like a truant schoolboy to venture home—Molly would have been so inquisitive and Nanny so curious. Strange it was, especially at such a time as this, that I should be afraid of two mere women; but even big game hunters are human. . . .
I went across Petersham Common and back along the river side. Then I picked up my suit-case at the tobacconist's, got a 'bus to the station and proceeded to town.
Gran'pa and Stringer met me, as arranged. They were very excited and the hypnotist was bristling with animation.
"Most interesting, George!" exclaimed Gran'pa. "But I shan't be satisfied until we've been to the menagerie at Bristol."
My brain suddenly cleared.