"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.