He had sufficient intelligence and perseverance to liberate himself from the remainder of the bonds without our help, and when he had done this we raised the sliding door, drove him into the larger cage, closed the door again--and were ready for the next! Could anything have been simpler or safer? Our two captives safely berthed, we wasted no time in returning to the Gorilla Country, which we again reached in just over an hour and a half. I expected to find on our arrival a further consignment of live gorilla. But I was disappointed. The three red balloons hung lazily in the still, tropical air; but none of them showed the welcome flags of victory. It appeared that Gran'pa and Stringer had returned to the jungle immediately after we had left for Corisco and since then--silence had reigned. Not a roar, not a bark of a gorilla had been heard. The three white men, with their retinue of blacks, might have been non-existent for all the signs of life they had shown since their return to the gloomy depths of the forest. "Well," I said to Oakley, "I think I'll be getting along to my cage again." "Right-ho!" "We have to start back in four hours' time, don't we?" He looked at his wrist watch. "Better not leave it any later than that." "Bye-bye!" "So long!" he answered, lighting a cigarette. I went along the narrow pathway which led to our first cage, alone--and a little scared (although I wouldn't have admitted it to myself or anyone else for worlds). There is something terribly unnerving about the perpetual, twilight gloom of the great African forests, unpenetrated by the sun even at mid-day. The trees lean over and threaten one with their immense bulk of branch and leaf; the bushes harbor God knows what crawling and prowling peril; and the swaying tendrils wave their arms to and fro like long, sentient things. All vegetable life seems to be working in unison with the animal life which creeps behind its dark and sinister shelter. One is given no respite. There is always that sense of a Vindictive Something sneaking behind, or waiting in ambush in front, or prowling alongside--watching for its opportunity to spring. The snap of a twig, the sudden flight of a bird, the scurry of something small and harmless, the sough of the wind (like a deep breath), the rustle of leaves, the pad-pad of one's own feet, even the thumping of one's own heart--all these sounds are instantly translated into a sign of some terrible, carnivorous menace. One's sense of hearing becomes painfully acute--almost raw! One's nerves become keyed up to the breaking point. One's feeling of immense loneliness is appalling--and palpable! As I hurried along, the conviction grew that I was no longer Man, the Lord of Creation, but merely a poor little defenceless creature, fleeing through a land of hideous, nightmare shapes. Of what use was a sporting rifle, or a revolver? I could not aim in the dark. And, even if I could, there was still the danger of being taken unawares.