Without further speculation as to the precise relationships involved in this family reunion, I leant carefully forward, found the taps of the cylinders, and turned on the gas.
For nearly half-a-minute Little Willie and his fair companions continued their affectionate demonstrations. They examined him, chattered amicably with one another, and showed an intelligent but suspicious interest in his chain.
Presently, the grandmother of the party heaved a deep sigh, disentangled herself from Willie's embraces and settled down contentedly for an afternoon nap. At the same time, her foundling crept over to her, placed his face against her chest, and sympathetically joined her in slumber.
The other three ladies looked puzzled and stupefied; then slightly alarmed. They commenced sauntering back to the bush, where they probably intended sleeping off the effect of this strange tired feeling which had seized them.
We watched them calmly, staking the reputation of our gas against their waning powers of locomotion. Their great difficulty was to use their long arms in the normal way—as a species of crutches—and before they had gone a couple of yards it was clear that whatever else happened, a short recuperative rest was first essential.
"One . . . two . . . three . . ." counted Croft, as they capitulated. "Nice little bag of flappers, eh?"
After those six weary hours of silence, I laughed aloud. It was, indeed, a fitting reward for our exemplary patience—and wouldn't Gran'pa (and Sally Rebecca) be pleased?
"So that's that!" I said. "Now let's get into our gas masks."
We donned our protectors, opened the door of the cage, and swaggered forth to truss up the fruits of victory.
With the grace and skill that comes of long practice, we first bound and handcuffed the three younger females. Then we turned to the grandmother.