Staking him in the centre of a small clearing in the forest—as near as possible to the new gorilla haunt discovered by Nchago—Croft and I donned our gorilla garb and retired to the cage.
Instead of sitting in the open and calling for mates, we intended giving Little Willie the honor of notifying the females of his race that he was in dire need of help and comfort.
He did this admirably and almost incessantly, while several yards away from him lay a circle of half-a-dozen hidden nozzles connected with the "gas-works."
Exactly what he said was not known to us. He may have been merely complaining of the great difficulty of escaping to the shelter of the forest. Or, he may have been shouting out the names of his friends and relations.
Once or twice, he made that pathetic noise of "Hoo! . . . Hoo! . . ." as if pondering on the tenderness of his years and bemoaning the harshness of life.
Still as death, we sat huddled in our cage, watching and waiting!
The minutes dragged by into hours. Noon came, with its strange silence and stifling heat. A long way off, we heard the bark of a male gorilla. Later, the scream of a startled female.
As this last sound reached him, Little Willie gave a loud cry of distress and tugged wildly at his chain. Then silence again.
I looked at my watch. In two hours' time we should have to start our flight back to Corisco.
Stealthily and silently, Croft and I partook of food and drink. We needed it. So, no doubt, did poor Little Willie; but it would have been very unwise to have left our cage in order to feed him. In the gloomy shelter of the surrounding bush, we knew not how many pairs of eyes might even now be watching—how many gorilla hearts might be on the point of responding to his plaintive appeals.