Lost in the Jungle; Narrated for Young People

by Paul B. Du Chaillu

"That is so," replied Malaouen. "Querlaouen, let us go after the female and try to capture her."

So we descended the tree upon which we had hidden ourselves. We left the big gorilla dead on the ground, bidding him good-by, and telling him that we were coming again; Malaouen adding in a queer way, "Kombo" (that is the name they give to a male gorilla), "who told you to come and fight us? If you had not come, perhaps at this time you might have been by the side of your wife and child, instead of being asleep for all time to come. The forest is not going to hear your 'talk' any more, and you are not going to frighten any body." So we left the big fellow dead on the ground, and went immediately in search of the female gorilla and her young.

In order not to lose our dead gorilla, as we advanced in the jungle, we broke, here and there, young branches of the trees, and from time to time collected leaves in our hands, which we dropped on the ground, and then, on our return, we would look after the boughs of the trees we had broken, and the leaves we had scattered, and thus find our way back to the gorilla.

We traveled on through the jungle for a long time, and no gorilla. At last we were startled. We heard a roar. It was the female calling for her mate. It was the female that had escaped from us in the morning. She was calling for the "old man," who would not hear her any more, for, as you know, he was dead. She called and called, but there was no answer for her.

Carefully we went through the jungle, stepping gently on the dead leaves of the trees till we came near the female gorilla, which we saw just behind an old tree that had fallen on the ground. There she was, looking at her babe, giving now and then a kind of chuckle, her old, wrinkled black face looking so ugly. Her gray eyes followed the young gorilla as he would move round; then she would pick a berry, giving another kind of chuckle for the baby to come and get it. After eating it he would climb on his mother, and she would pass her thick black hand over the little body. Then he came down and seated himself between her legs, and gazed at her, his little black face looking so queer. Then he moved off again, but only to return once more. As I was very intently watching, my gun slipped from the tree along which it rested, and fell on the ground. The gorilla heard it, gave a shriek, and, followed by her babe, was starting to run. The gun of Querlaouen was too quick for her. Bang! The poor mother fell in her gore, but the little fellow disappeared in the woods.

We leaped over the tree, and did not even take a look at the poor dead gorilla, but rushed in pursuit of the young fellow, who was the prize we wanted the most.

At last we saw him; a stream had stopped his flight. He could not get any farther, and was looking toward the other side. But he soon spied us, and took to a young sapling, and when he had reached the top he looked at us with glaring eyes, and—would you believe it?—howled again and again at us!

There was no way to get at him, so Malaouen took his axe, and down came the tree, with the gorilla on it, howling and shrieking. At the same instant Querlaouen threw over his head a little net we carried with us for the purpose of capturing gorillas, and so we caught him.

We hollaed and shouted also, so our shouts, mixed with the howls and shrieks of the gorilla, made a charming concert in the jungle. After giving vent to our joyous feelings by shouts, and had sobered down again, I wish you could have seen that gorilla kicking under its net. The question was how to take the fellow from under the net and get it home. I cried, "Give me the axe; I see a branch close by which will make a splendid forked stick." The words were hardly uttered before the axe was in my hands, and in the wink of an eye I had hold of a stick about five feet long, with a pronged fork. Malaouen had in the mean time cut a little stick to tie across it, and collected some creepers to be used as cords.

I wish you could have heard his howls as Querlaouen seized the little villain by the back of his head, while I put the forked stick on his neck, holding it fast to the ground while Malaouen was tying the little stick, now and then taking his hands off for fear of a bite, the little rascal kicked up such a row. Querlaouen, who had become free to act after I got the forked stick firm over his neck, had all he could do to hold the legs of the little fellow on the ground, who kicked up, hollaed, and shrieked; his muscles worked, and he tried to catch hold of us with his hands, but the forked stick was too much for him, and then we succeeded in tying his hands behind his back.