Having no desire to drop from this height into a tangle of underbrush, I worked my way out to the tip of the branch, hung for a moment on the end of the arch it so considerately made, and then let go.
I fell on my feet as gracefully as an acrobat.
"By George!" exclaimed Gran'pa, running up to me. "It's . . . George!"
"What's left of him!" I breathed.
"What on earth have you been doing now?" he asked.
(A nice greeting, but characteristic of Gran'pa!)
"It's a new game," I observed, quietly. "When you get lost in that damned jungle it may occur to even you! I've been up there looking for the nearest balloon. Thank God I found it—even if it did happen to be yours!"
I told him the tale of my adventures.
"It was very foolish of you to come alone," he admonished. "And—where's your gorilla skin?"
"Half-way up a tree—such as there's left of it. . . . You've caught another gorilla, I see."