“I’ve figured all that out,” replied Dan. “We’ll have Mr. Capes find where that circus proprietor is holding out this week. There must be ways of doing that, you see. And then he can wire him that his gorilla is trapped, and for him to come along as fast as he can, with a cage and experienced help to get him out.”
“That’s a good scheme, Dan,” commended the other, slapping his chum on the back. “And in the meantime we’ll have to see that the old fellow doesn’t want for his regular allowance of grub.”
“No danger of his climbing out, is there, Dick?”
“I should hardly think so,” the other replied, after again taking a survey of the deep pit. “The only way he could ever do that would be to dig holes in the side, and I don’t believe he’s up to that game. Anyhow we’ll keep tab of his doings, and if we find he’s trying a game like that we’ll check him in a hurry.”
Dan began to take on the airs of a world conqueror. The look of anxiety gradually left his face, giving way to one of conscious triumph. Indeed, it must be confessed that he puffed his chest out a little as, in company with Dick, he returned to the camp.
Their coming was noticed, if their flitting had passed without comment.
“Any luck, Dan?” called Andy Hale, who was trying to get his refractory crop of bristly hair to stay down, always a difficult morning task with him.
“Say, do we have gorilla steak for breakfast?” demanded Nat Silmore, trying to be funny, though his recent actions had shown that the presence of the animal in the vicinity of the camp was anything but a joke with him.
“Oh, well, you can settle that yourself,” said Dan, carelessly. “I make a standing offer right here and now. Any fellow who cares to drop down into that pit this morning may have all my coop of homing pigeons free, gratis, for nothing.”
The offer caused a sensation.