“‘But pursuing them, we were not able to take the men, who all escaped from us by their great agility, being _cremenobates_ (that is to say, climbing precipitous rocks and trees, and defending themselves by throwing stones at us). We took three women, who bit and tore those who caught them, and were unwilling to follow them. We were obliged to kill them, and took their skins off, which skins were brought to Carthage, for we did not navigate further, provisions becoming scarce.’” [Illustration: EVENING AMUSEMENTS IN AFRICA.] During this latter part of my story there was a dead silence, and as soon as I had finished they said—“Chaillu, is this a real story or not?” And when I assured them it was, they said—“Yes, it must be the gorilla that that man called Hanno saw.” I was quite astonished at their remembering the name of the admiral; it showed me what an impression my story had created on their minds. Then said I: “Boys, there are two or three points in the story I have told you which inclines me to believe that the country Hanno speaks of is not this one, and still there are several facts which make me think that the country where we are now is the same. “The very land on which we stand is sandy; not far off is the River Fernand Vaz, and on one side another river, the Commi River, is found. It may be that the land on which we stand was then an island, and that Cape Lopez is the Horn of the South of which that great man Hanno speaks. Time changes countries; in one part the sea will take away, in another part the sea will give. Such is the country in which we are.” They shouted with one accord that it could not be; how could land rise? how could the land go down? As to the sea eating away the land, they believed it, for they had seen it; and as to the land gaining in some places, they believed that also, for they had seen it. They all wondered how near the word Gorilla was to that of Ngina and Nguyla, the latter name being given by the Bakalai to the beast. After my story, we all went to bed. I wrapped myself carefully in my blanket and soon fell asleep, thinking unconsciously of the gorillas, and hoping soon to meet some. It was the dry season; we were in the month of August, and I was near Cape St. Catherine. The wind was blowing hard, the atmosphere was chilly, the sky was clouded as though it was going to rain, but no rain was coming, for no rain falls at this time of the year. The thermometer stood at 70°, but I felt quite cold, and I wore a sailor’s woolen shirt. [Sidenote: _ON THE SEA-SHORE._] The sea was rolling up the shore in heavy rollers which would upset a canoe in the twinkling of an eye; we had just arrived, and had come to hunt, fish, and be merry. My Commi men had all gone to the woods to cut branches of palm-trees, and collect poles to build shelters.