I don't think any of us slept the previous night. We arose early, fed ourselves, wheeled out the two aeroplanes, climbed aboard, and wished everyone "good-by"--although we intended returning the same evening, if possible. I leant over the side and kissed Molly, and Gran'pa kissed Sally Rebecca (who didn't look a day older than sixty in the faint light of the early morn); and Stringer and Dr. Croft and the two pilots waved to the assembled multitude. Immediately afterwards our propellers were swung and we rose into the air like two great birds in quest of other and pleasanter climes. As was fitting, the leading 'plane contained Gran'pa, Stringer and Oakley--Dr. Croft and myself and Newland (one of our other pilots) followed behind at a distance of about five hundred feet. We also had our mascots aboard. Mine was a small teddy bear (2 inches in height) given me by Molly; Croft's was a human knuckle bone (previously belonging to some ancient, mummified Egyptian princess); Stringer's was a carved crocodile's tooth (given him, possibly under hypnotic influence, by Njambai, the Mbenga chief); Oakley's and Newland's were a couple of green wool, miniature golliwogs; and Gran'pa's was a small photograph of Sally Rebecca (at the age of 32)--a thing of art and beauty and sentiment, perhaps, but obviously of very little value, otherwise. We flew across the Bay of Corisco at a height of about 1,500 feet, making straight for the mouth of the Moondah, which glistened like the head of an arrow pointing towards the heart of the Gorilla Country. The air was icy cold, and clear; but by the time the sun had risen and we had crossed the Coast Range we found the way blocked by a long bank of clouds. To save time, we flew through the gaps, which, as we entered them, became huge caves. By towering cliffs and over deep chasms we passed--aflight in another world, which was every bit as solid-looking as the real one lying sunlit and green-clad beneath. It was after passing through the last of these cloud gaps that we saw half-a-dozen miles to our right--three patches of bright red, standing out like tiny, clear-cut discs on the olive green expanse of jungle. They were the balloons which gave us the exact location of our cages. A little further on, the top of our hangar was visible as a blob of white in the one corner of a light green clearing. Presently, Newland pulled back the throttle and pushed the joy-stick forward and we descended swiftly to a height of 1,000 feet. At that point he shut off the engine; the deep roar, which we had grown accustomed to for the last two and a half hours, was changed into the shrill whine of wind against the struts; the aeroplane flattened out, and we at last commenced our swift glide earthwards. We landed a couple of minutes or so after our leaders, and immediately began making arrangements for our journey to the cages.