Already, I was beginning to feel sorry for these Monarchs of the African Forests. What chance had the poor wretches against a man like this, with all the resources of civilization behind him? And yet . . . "Granting all these possibilities," I said. "Supposing we do get to Gaboon with our aeroplanes and our monkey-language system in full working order. And supposing we do actually capture a few hundred of the brutes alive. What then? You can't bring them back to headquarters by aeroplane. . . ." "Why not?" "Oh . . . I don't know! It sounds so utterly damned silly." "Not half so silly and impossible as some of the everyday exploits in the war. It's child play compared with 'planing through a tornado of bursting shells, or fighting battles a couple of miles up." "I suppose it is. . . ." Every argument I produced as to the unreasonableness of his schemes was squashed in an instant. "Well," I said, at last. "We have our apes--by the hundred. What then? It's their glands you want; the brutes themselves, as far as you're concerned, are merely perambulating depositories for the Elixir of Life. You keep them alive simply to keep their glands alive. A dead gland is useless, and . . ." "Wait a moment, young man! Ever heard of cold storage?" "It's the curse of the modern mutton trade," I observed. "Possibly! Many scientists, however, consider it possible to keep the thyroid gland active for at least three or four days after its removal--if the thing is packed in ice. That'll help a great deal. I intend shipping the apes to Walfisch Bay, and then taking the glands by 'plane to a convenient spot in the Kalahari Desert--one of the healthiest places in the world. It is there that we shall establish the great Hospital for the Rejuvenation of the Aged." I grew reckless in my concessions to the plausibility of the scheme. "So far so good," I said. "We've accomplished even this. But what about the patients? How many old men do you seriously think are going to risk their lives by setting out on such an insane quest for youth? There aren't a dozen men in England to-day who'd do anything half as wild--especially old men of seventy--or eighty. All they want then is peace--peace in which to end their days. That's the great cry of the aged. And therein lies the final weakness of the whole thing, Gran'pa. The idea is good, the plot is excellent, the adventure thrilling, the . . ." "Don't you worry, George!" he cried. "That's where, as a last resource, the Press Campaign comes in. If necessary, I shall boom this rejuvenescence of mine as nothing on earth has ever been boomed before. I am willing to be photographed, interviewed, filmed, and leading-articled until we're simply swamped with applications. You don't understand human nature. The will to live comes before everything. If there is no response from Englishmen I shall appeal to America, although I would rather not experiment on my own countrymen until I've gained more practical knowledge."