"He stood his ground, and, as quickly as he could, reloaded his gun. Just as he raised it to fire the gorilla dashed it out of his hands, the gun going off in the fall; and then in an instant, and with a terrible roar, the animal gave him a tremendous blow with its immense open paw, frightfully lacerating the abdomen and with this single blow laying bare part of the intestines. As he sank bleeding to the ground, the monster seized the gun, and the poor hunter thought he would have his brains dashed out with it. But the gorilla seemed to have looked upon this as an enemy, and in his rage almost flattened the barrel between his strong jaws. "This is their mode when attacked--to strike one or two blows, and then leave the victims of their rage on the ground and go off into the woods. . . ." I was impressed. And, when I thought of Gran'pa's intention of taking these huge, muscular, six-foot brutes alive and unharmed, I was almost stupefied. It seemed impossible. Indeed, the writer of the book I was reading said that up to that time (1860) no fully grown male gorilla had ever been taken alive. The more I pondered on the matter, the more was I struck by the dangerous novelty of our undertaking. Elephants might be shot for their tusks, tigers and leopards for their skins, bears for their fur, and hundreds of other animals for the love of the chase. But we were far superior to this form of sport. We were going out with the express intention of getting "the goods"--these terrible monarchs of the African jungle--in all their living and ferocious glory. I had little doubt that Gran'pa had already thought out some method, but I didn't see how it could be of the slightest use unless backed by actual, practical experience--of which he had none. I closed the book I had been reading, handed it back to the librarian, mentally shook myself, and emerged once more into the sunny streets of civilization. For the first time that day I found the sight of my fellow creatures comforting and soothing. My enthusiasm was as great as ever, but it was tinctured by a grim realization of the extreme difficulty of our task. I could see that a gorilla in the bush was far worse than two in a menagerie. Alfred, for all his ferocity, had been no more than a pale ghost of his wild brothers in the woods. Confinement and our wretched English climate must have softened his physique, even if they hadn't softened his temper. And yet I shuddered at the thought of meeting Alfred loose, in Richmond Park, say, and having to capture him alive. _Jiujitsu_ would be useless; so would lassoing, or boxing, or wrestling. The strength of even half a dozen men rolled into one would be no match for such a colossal and muscular mechanism.