"I admit that," mumbled Stringer, pessimistically. "But I don't see why the others couldn't have taken their chance. We have to—out there in the jungle. . . ." He waved a podgy arm eastwards, in the direction of the Dark Continent.
"No man recognizes the fact more than I do," replied Gran'pa, quickly and warmly. "I needn't have come at all. None of us need!"
I could see that both Stringer and Gran'pa were beginning to lose their tempers, and I tried to smooth matters down.
"All this," I remarked, "doesn't get us any further. The point is, would it be advisable to bring the old men to the gorillas, as Stringer suggests, or take the gorillas to the old men, as we had arranged?"
"We can't have them here," said Gran'pa. "The delay and trouble would be tremendous. Besides, I will not be a party to the wholesale slaughter of any animal. It isn't sport, but murder! You've read of modern tiger-hunting. Half-naked blacks, armed with sticks, drive the poor, frightened beasts out of the jungle as if they were rabbits. And the big game hunters shoot them down—again, like rabbits. Pah! It makes my blood boil! What chance has the tiger? . . . They'll start shelling animals next—or machine-gunning them. . . . No! We must go on doing our best, and doing it cleanly and humanely. There may be a temporary slump; but things aren't hopeless. To-morrow, we'll get on the track of this new colony, or whatever it is. Come, Stringer, I'm surprised at you! . . . Don't look so miserable. . . ."
Stringer's expression of Old Bill-like melancholy slowly vanished, and we began basking in the sunshine of one of his most fascinating smiles. His bushy eyebrows and walrus moustache gave up bristling, and gently subsided; his eyes twinkled; once more did hope kindle in his breast.
"That's better!" exclaimed Gran'pa. "Now, if only we could only hit on some idea for attracting the females—which seem to be about six times as plentiful as the males—and a hundred times as shy. . . . We might, for instance, capture one of their babies and use it as a sort of decoy duck. . . . It's obviously no good trying to disguise ourselves as infant gorillas-in-arms. The real article is what we want. . . . George, we must get one of their 'puppies'—something which will howl for its mummie! If only we can awaken the lady gorilla's finer feelings—her desire to cherish and fondle the young—she's ours! What? . . . ?"
"It sounds rather a low down trick," I replied.
"Not at all," said Dr. Croft. "It's perfectly legitimate—if it works!"
Stringer, who had been looking much brighter and happier up to this point, again showed signs of despondency.