"You'd better discuss the matter with my grandfather," I suggested.
"Can't you persuade him?" asked the ring-leader.
"I'll certainly do my best," I prevaricated. "But you know what he is. . . ."
As we drew nearer to Corisco they grew more and more importunate, until at last Croft and I could stand the worry no longer. We developed sudden sickness and hid ourselves in our cabin.
Naturally, it was hard on Stringer. Being the only member of our party left on deck, he was nearly mobbed, but, with the aid of a little mental magnetism, and his great fund of good-natured patience, he pulled through. He made the suggestion—possibly a hypnotic one—that the old people should form a sub-committee, appoint a chairman, and draw up a definite scheme of action. They could ask Gran'pa to join them as leader on another gorilla hunt. If he refused the honor, they would then have to carry the thing through themselves.
All this Stringer afterwards told Croft and me as we sat in our sick chamber—where I had just lost twenty-five shillings at double dummy bridge.
"Have they done as you suggested?" asked Croft.
"Yes! Forty-nine of them have decided to stop at Corisco. The other nine are returning to England."
"Good!" I said. "Now we know where we are."
Never for one moment did I think that Gran'pa would stay and help those old people. It was grossly selfish to ask a man who had already gone through so much for their sakes to give up his well earned rest, to face hardships and dangers again, and to postpone his marriage with the woman he loved. But old men are always selfish.