The Gorilla Hunters | Page 5

eat our dinner in the sulks, that's all."
As my companion spoke we observed the coach come sweeping round
the turn of the road about half a mile distant. In a few seconds it dashed
into the town at full gallop, and finally drew up abruptly opposite the
door of the inn, where were assembled the usual group of hostlers and
waiters and people who expected friends by the coach.
"He's not there," whispered Peterkin, in deep disappointment--"at least
he's not on the outside, and Jack would never travel inside of a coach
even in bad weather, much less in fine. That's not him on the back-seat
beside the fat old woman with the blue bundle, surely! It's very like him,
but too young, much too young. There's a great giant of a man on the
box-seat with a beard like a grenadier's shako, and a stout old
gentleman behind him with gold spectacles. That's all, except two boys
farther aft, and three ladies in the cabin. Oh, what a bore!"
Although deeply disappointed at the non-arrival of Jack, I could with
difficulty refrain from smiling at the rueful and woe-begone
countenance of my poor companion. It was evident that he could not
bear disappointment with equanimity, and I was on the point of
offering some consolatory remarks, when my attention was attracted by
the little old woman with the blue bundle, who went up to the gigantic
man with the black beard, and in the gentlest possible tone of voice
asked if he could direct her to the white house.
"No, madam," replied the big man hastily; "I'm a stranger here."
The little old woman was startled by his abrupt answer. "Deary me, sir,
no offence, I hope."

She then turned to Peterkin and put the same question, possibly under a
vague sort of impression that if a gigantic frame betokened a gruff
nature, diminutive stature must necessarily imply extreme amiability. If
so, she must have been much surprised as well as disappointed, for
Peterkin, rendered irascible by disappointment, turned short round and
said sharply, "Why, madam, how can I tell you where the white house
is, unless you say which white house you want? Half the houses of the
town are white--at least they're dirty white," he added bitterly, as he
turned away.
"I think I can direct you, ma'am," said I, stepping quickly up with a
bland smile, in order to counteract, if possible, my companion's
rudeness.
"Thank you, sir, kindly," said the little old woman; "I'm glad to find
some little civility in the town."
"Come with me, ma'am; I am going past the white house, and will show
you the way."
"And pray, sir," said the big stranger, stepping up to me as I was about
to move away, "can you recommend me to a good hotel?"
I replied that I could; that there was one in the immediate vicinity of the
white house, and that if he would accompany me I would show him the
way. All this I did purposely in a very affable and obliging tone and
manner; for I hold that example is infinitely better than precept, and
always endeavour, if possible, to overcome evil with good. I offered
my arm to the old woman, who thanked me and took it.
"What!" whispered Peterkin, "you don't mean me to take this great ugly
gorilla in tow?"
"Of course," replied I, laughing, as I led the way.
Immediately I entered into conversation with my companion, and I
heard "the gorilla" attempt to do so with Peterkin; but from the few
sharp cross replies that reached my ear, I became aware that he was

unsuccessful. In the course of a few minutes, however, he appeared to
have overcome his companion's ill-humour, for I overheard their voices
growing louder and more animated as they walked behind me.
Suddenly I heard a shout, and turning hastily round, observed Peterkin
struggling in the arms of the gorilla! Amazed beyond measure at the
sight, and firmly persuaded that a cowardly assault had been made
upon my friend, I seized the old woman's umbrella, as the only
available weapon, and flew to the rescue.
"Jack, my boy! can it be possible?" gasped Peterkin.
"I believe it is," replied Jack, laughing.--"Ralph, my dear old fellow,
how are you?"
I stood petrified. I believed that I was in a dream.
I know not what occurred during the next five minutes. All I could
remember with anything like distinctness was a succession of violent
screams from the little old woman, who fled shouting thieves and
murder at the full pitch of her voice. We never saw that old woman
again, but I made a point of returning her umbrella to the "white
house."
Gradually we became collected and sane.
"Why, Jack, how did