A council of war was held. No one showed the least inclination to try and capture this mere two-year-old baby boy. Apart from its biting capacity, it was probably much stronger than a full grown man--and certainly twice as nimble. But in the end, as Gran'pa had so often insisted, brains will tell. Stringer, who had secretly profited by his circus experience in the old lion-taming days, gave a little exhibition in the gentle art of lassoing--under difficulties. After an extremely thrilling performance, lasting over half-an-hour, Little Willie, as he was eventually called, was brought home, ignominiously and under great protest, in a sack. Never have I met such a two-foot bundle of savagery and cunning. Four men could hold him more or less comfortably; three, uncomfortably; two, with the utmost difficulty; and, one--I shudder to think what would have happened. . . . When he and Gran'pa were first introduced to one another, Little Willie was sitting peacefully at the end of his fully extended chain, deeply absorbed in one of his toe-nails. "Well, old chap?" said Gran'pa, affably. No answer. "Poor little fellow! I expect he's pretty homesick, George!" No doubt Gran'pa's intentions were of the best. He merely wanted to be friendly and, at the same time, to examine our little captive more closely. So, after carefully satisfying himself that there was no risk of being bitten, Gran'pa approached still nearer, stooped, and made further remarks signifying comradeship. Little Willie ignored him for about half a minute. Then he turned his head slightly, as though measuring the distance which separated him from this new and talkative specimen of humanity. The next moment a hairy foot shot out; there was a gorilla scream of revengeful glee, a human yell of alarm and pain, a sound of scuffling and tearing--and Little Willie quickly retreated, holding a piece of trouser-leg in his left foot. Unsatisfied with Gran'pa's curses and this tangible emblem of victory (which was now in Little Willie's mouth), the sprightly gorilla-child next dashed across to an amused native, severely bit him in the leg, and then described a large circle round the stake to which his chain was fastened. Apparently, he wanted to make a clean sweep of all spectators. He accomplished his desire quite easily. The natives ran for their lives. Gran'pa and I hurriedly withdrew; and Stringer, who had been coming in our direction, suddenly stopped--and thought better of it. "Cunning little beast!" grunted Gran'pa, exploring his bruised shin through the hole in his trouser leg. "I told you he was dangerous!" I said. "Dangerous, yes! But you didn't say _treacherous_!" "Is it any worse," I asked, "than our dressing up as lady gorillas and gassing our innocent admirers?" "Er . . . put that way, perhaps not. Still, we must be very careful. . . ."