"They're quietening down again," said Gran'pa, as we unloaded. "Even a gorilla has enough sense to find out the futility of noise. Look! That big one's beginning to sulk. He'll probably maintain that attitude now and never utter another word. Let's give him some food, to show our approval." We tried him with some of the white ribs of the pineapple leaf (a particular gorilla delicacy), but he refused. So did the others. "Well, we can't waste time. They'll soon come round when they've got over their bad temper and begin to feel hungry. . . . We'd better get them aboard the 'planes." Oakley had two on his machine, and Newland had the third. It was a strange sight. The poor fellows looked so old-fashioned, sitting up in their chairs, with their curious little eyes peering from one side to another and their heads moving from side to side while the remainder of their bodies kept perfectly still. One could hardly believe that they were animals. "As this is the first consignment," said Gran'pa, "I think you'd better pop over in Newland's 'plane, George, and see them put safely aboard 'The Pilgrim Father.' You'll also be able to keep an eye on the others. . . . I say, Oakley!" "Yes?" "Don't get too far apart on the way back. Mr. Barnett's coming, as well, to act as an observer for both of you!" "Good!" I clambered aboard (with our gorilla in the middle seat), the propellers were swung, and off we went--upwards and upwards into the blue sky and the refreshingly cool air. My excitement was intense. I had not even bothered to take off my gorilla skin. The head had been removed, of course, and I had slipped into my great coat and helmet, but I had not yet rid myself of the feeling that I was half-man and half-anthropoid ape. For the first hundred miles, we flew without anything unusual happening. Our own gorilla made neither movement nor sound, but the rear one on Oakley's machine kept straining at its bonds, with a stupid, brutish persistency. It was the huge beast which Stringer had commenced to bind while I was lying under the evil influence of that gas, and once or twice I couldn't help thinking: "Is that brute secure?" When we reached the upper course of the "Moondah" I scribbled a note on a scrap of paper and thrust it over to Newland. "_Keep as near as you can to Oakley's 'plane_," I had written. I watched him read it, saw him nod his head, and felt the machine put on an extra spurt until the two 'planes were flying almost side by side. Oakley's machine was now about fifty feet to the right and a little below the level of ours, so that I could see his passengers quite distinctly. The front one was quiet and resigned, but the rear one was still viciously struggling to escape. I was getting anxious, and, had there been any landing place visible, I should have felt very much inclined to signal Oakley to make a temporary halt for the purpose of examining the animal's bonds. The thought of its breaking loose in mid-air was appalling.