I didn't like the business a bit. There was something so uncanny in the spectacle of us three poor little humans surrounded by all his collection of carnivorous and hungry-looking beasts. It didn't feel safe, and the object of our visit didn't seem right and fair. It may have been an epitome of brains _versus_ beef--civilization _versus_ barbarism--but the whole affair savored too much of wicked cunning and evil intentions. The right and gentlemanly thing would have been for Gran'pa to have gone into that gorilla's cage unarmed--and fought for his glands. . . . I turned and looked at the old man. He was very quiet and solemn--obsessed, no doubt, by the same thoughts as myself. "This way, gentlemen," said our companion. We went forward again and a few moments later the first part of our Quest for Youth was over. "There!" said his Majesty, with a contemplative expectoration. "That's Alfred!" For fully half a minute, there was no movement in the cage, and we merely stood gazing at a heap of slowly rising and falling straw. Then an arm and leg protruded and stretched themselves. They were followed by one of the most hideous-looking faces imaginable. Deep-sunk, wicked little eyes glared at us from beneath heavy, overhanging ridges of bone; a cavernous mouth yawned wide open, with dreadful rows of huge teeth fringing its black-gummed edges; a thick tuft of hair oscillated up and down above the low forehead; and suddenly a nerve-shattering roar reverberated against the wooden walls of the cage. With a bound the animal sprang forward, flung its arm between two of the iron bars and tried to grab Gran'pa by his most cherished adornment--his long white beard. "Look out!" I cried. The old man jumped nimbly aside, giving a shout of amazement and clumsily treading on my toes. I steadied him. "You really ought to be more careful," I said, glancing at the Animal King, who was chuckling to himself. "That chap's the very devil when he's roused," said his owner. "_Quiet_, Alfred!" Alfred restrained himself for a moment or two, watching Gran'pa as a cat watches a mouse. There was evidently something in the old man which aroused his curiosity, as well as his anger. Or it may have been an instinctive understanding of the reason of the visit. Who knows? "George," said Gran'pa, with heartless precision, "we shan't do better than this." A roar from the cage greeted this remark, and Alfred flung himself at the bars and rattled and shook at them in abandoned fury. "May I ask, gentlemen, if you're going to try and train it?" inquired the King. "Or do you want it wild?" Gran'pa looked at him for a second or two, abstractedly. "I don't care how wild it is. In fact the wilder, the stronger, and the more vicious--the better." "Then you've the goods in that cage. I've handled some of these brutes in my time. But this 'un takes the biscuit." "No trace of consumption, I suppose?" asked Gran'pa, like a young bridegroom who has been converted to Eugenics.