"Did they? I wish we'd taken him with us to-day," I answered, still incensed at the casual way Gran'pa had treated our escape. "He might have put the 'fluence' on that gorilla and persuaded the brute to swing the propeller when we were safely aboard. I'm beginning to think, however, that the only effective weapon against these gentlemen of the jungle will be hand grenades." But I spoke, as so many of us do, without knowledge of what the future had in store. I suppose that it is natural for every pioneer to have his moments of doubt and anxiety. CHAPTER XII IN THE JUNGLE Our trial flight to Gorilla-land and back having been successfully accomplished, we now began earnest preparations for the wholesale capture of its inhabitants. With his usual businesslike grasp of details, Gran'pa drew up a list of the most important of our tasks, which were briefly as follows:-- (_a_) Construction of three cages (in sections); transportation to suitable spots in jungle; erection; camouflage. (_b_) Construction and transportation of two hangars. (_c_) Transportation of two gas cylinders per cage. (_d_) Lessons in language and habits of gorilla. (_e_) Lessons in rapid binding with ropes, tying knots, etc. One would have said that, fired with the great enthusiasm we all had for the cause, such tasks as those outlined above should have taken us only a few weeks to accomplish. They should. We had no trade union restrictions, no lack of labor, no shortage of material, and no fear of overproduction. Free from all these handicaps so carefully cultivated by the Spirit of Modern Democracy, we ought to have made rapid progress. But the natives were lazy, and argumentative, and curious, and superstitious; the climate was abominably hot, and wet, and enervating; transportation by aeroplane through a bumpy and tempestuous medium was difficult, and dangerous, and very trying to the nerves; and the general negroid disposition of always putting off till to-morrow what you should do to-day was contagiously demoralizing even to the best of us (Gran'pa!). All these things, added together, grew into a sort of huge persuasive influence which insisted that labor was undignified and crude. Like a modern epitome of the British working man, I began reasoning with myself thus: Why should I slave for others (that is, for eighty-seven doddering old men on their way to Windhuk and Eternal Youth)? Why should I toil my hardest, while a life of dignified ease was the lot of so many others (that is, of the black population of Corisco)? Why should I risk my life, or rack my brains, or endanger my health? In short: why worry? Why hustle? And what was it all for, in the end? And who cared? And, so on. . . .