"What for, sister—can't you stand inspection?"
"You shut up, Emil Scherer—you've got nothing to brag about!"
It's bad enough when you can see them, Bridger thought, but this is like voices in a dream. And what a nightmare! Packard's soothing baritone broke into the clamor: "Now, now—let's not quarrel. Dr. Bridger is no better off than the rest of us; I'm sure he's done everything he can. Must cooperate, you know. We can settle our difficulties in the morning."
The babble broke out anew: "Dammit, it's cold! They gave us blankets before, didn't they? Henley—where are our blankets?" "How can I sleep with these mosquitoes eating me alive?" "You can talk, Packard—you've got blubber enough to keep you warm, but I haven't."
Eventually, however, the party quieted down and the silent, miserable hours began to drag by. Bridger propped himself up with his back against the fence, feeling the cold and damp of the earth strike into his buttocks. From the noises that came to him, nobody but Scherer was sleeping very well. Outside, several of the apes appeared to have been left on guard; they crouched around a small fire, smoking, talking, and making an occasional round of the stockade to see that their charges were safe.
When at last the sky began to turn gray, Bridger saw that they were in a fair-sized enclosure fenced with heavy poles, placed about three inches apart and lashed securely together above and below. Through them he could see trees, what looked like small houses, and beyond them the wall and the arms of the windmills they had seen the previous night.
Although the sky grew brighter, there was no sun, and soon a light rain began to fall. Bridger looked about him at his fellow captives—twenty-five naked, dirty, thoroughly bedraggled and dejected human beings trying to find a mean between comfort and modesty. The rain trickled slowly down their bodies, leaving long, winding streaks in the dirt.
A sneeze was the signal for a chorus of sneezes, including Bridger's own. He got stiffly to his feet. "We'll pass out if we don't get our circulation going," he said. "Come on—Emil's it for tag."
The game started slowly, but presently the whole crew was dodging about the enclosure. As the exercise warmed them, their spirits rose and the play became boisterous, with much yelling and slapping of bare buttocks. After fifteen minutes Packard dropped out and stood in a corner puffing. Barnes joined him.
"This life may be tough on the sensibilities," the lawyer said, "but it's sure great for the figure. My belly's nearly gone—and look at Mrs. Aaronson run!"
"Good way of shedding your inhibitions, too," the archeologist observed. "How're you at wrestling?"
"Thirty-three years ago I was champion of the Sophomore class," Packard boasted. "I don't suppose the other members of Callahan, Packard, and Wing would consider it consistent with the dignity of the legal profession, but they aren't here. Watch yourself!"
The two men sprang at each other and in a moment were entangled in a grunting knot. Then a piercing cry from one of the women brought them to their feet.
The game had stopped. A large head with a muzzle bristling with white whiskers and two very bright eyes was staring at them over the top of the stockade, supported by an apparently endless neck covered with a glossy brown fur. As they watched the apparition yawned, displaying four canine teeth; then it began to bark in such a completely doggish voice that there was a laugh of relief.
"What is it, Henley?" asked Janet Rodriguez.
"That's Emil's department," he replied. "Maybe it's a flesh-eating giraffe—we've seen stranger things."
"Is it coming in here?"
"I don't think so. I wonder what the rest of it looks like."
As he started for the fence the head slid out of sight. There was a shuffling, slapping noise and it popped up in another place. The chemist changed his direction, and the creature disappeared again. For half an hour it continued to pop up, bark, and pop down again to reappear somewhere else. Bridger gave up trying to chase it, and found that by standing well back he could make out the outlines of a bulky, low-slung body through the poles. Eventually it tired of "arfing" at them and floundered away through the mud. Rushing to the fence, they peered through the bars and saw that the neck sprouted from a sleek, tapering body supported on four enormous flippers. From the size of the beast, it must have been standing up against the fence to bark at them.
"What do you make of it, Emil?" Bridger demanded. "Is it a fur-bearing plesiosaurus?"
"Not quite. I should say it's a specialized kind of sea-lion."
"Fido seems to have a private swimming pool," one of the girls remarked. "I wish they'd put us in his cage and let him come in here. We need it worse than he does."
"My God!" Franchot clapped his hand dramatically to his forehead. "I got it. We're in the zoo!"
It took a moment for the idea to sink in, then something like relief swept over the entire crowd. At least they'll feed us regularly, Bridger thought.
"I wish they'd start throwing us peanuts, then," Zbradovski cracked.
"I don't like peanuts," the Hooper girl complained. "They make me thirsty."
"Hey!" someone shouted. "Here comes the monks again."
A big black ape had placed a massive ladder against the fence at the front of their pen and clambered up it with something flat under his arm. He hung the sign—for it was obviously that—on the top of the fence.
"I know what it says on the other side," said Macdonald. "It says 'MAN', an' then some Latin words. What's Latin for us, Doc? Yeah—Homo sapiens. An' then it probably tells about how we was captured in a terrific hand-to-hand struggle, like in the zoo in Pitt."
"He's got it, Henley," the zoologist observed with a grin. "We're labeled now, and I'll bet they spent most of the night deciding what we are—if they've made up their minds yet. It's been a long, long time since anyone saw animals like us around these parts. I "Genus Homo—that's us. All there is left of the human race."
The rain had stopped, and an occasional gorilla appeared in the street that ran in front of the row of cages. One of the passers-by soon spotted the captives and hurried up to stare at them through the bars. Another joined him, and another, until there was a solid wall of shaggy black hair in front of the enclosure. The apes chattered to one another and pointed at the people and at the sign, and the people stared self-consciously back.
"Makes me remember I ain't got nothing on," Toomey muttered to Macdonald.
"Whadda you care?" the cop retorted. "They ain't wearin' anything either, and they don't mind."
"On you two it don't look so bad," Julius Aaronson said plaintively, "but Mamma and me—we got all bulges where it ain't good."
"I allus thought them nudists was nuts, and here I'm one myself," Toomey said disgustedly. "Besides, them monkeys got fur and I ain't—leastways, not enough to do any good." He sadly smoothed down the mat of black curls on his chest.
A number of infant apes had appeared in the crowd outside the cage, poking their heads between the bars and reaching inside with abnormally long arms. Wilson, squatting in front of a solemn midget which had been staring at him unwinkingly for several minutes, screwed up his face in a horrible grimace and stuck out his tongue "Yaaaah!" The ape-child broke into frightened squalls and its nurse or mother into a rage. There was no mistaking what she had in mind, though the language was fortunately strange.
The ape who had put up the sign, or another like him, now returned pulling a small cart. He opened the outer gate of the pen, entered the little vestibule, closed and carefully locked the outer door, then opened the inner gate and hauled the cart into the cage.
Zbradovski gave a great shout. "Whoopee! Do you see what I see? Apples!"
As one the human beings charged the cart. The ape retreated hastily into the vestibule and slammed the door, but the people ignored him. The apples were small and hard, but eminently edible. There was a wooden bucket of water in one corner of the cart which was also welcome. They were less pleased, upon removing the apples, to find a heap of fish.
"Geez," Toomey complained, "are we
gonna hafta eat fish the rest of our natural lives?"
"There's a mighty smart ape out there," Scherer retorted. "They're feeding us just what they found us eating in the wild state, like any sensible zoo keeper. My suitcase was full of smoked bass, and so was everybody else's. As for the apples, I'll bet they decided from looking at our teeth that we could handle just about the same food they eat themselves."
Bridger asked: "What about these apples, Abner? You're the farmer here."
"I dunno, Henley—hothouses, maybe, or maybe we're all wrong about the time of year. Hey—look at Fido!"
They had dragged the cart into the back of the cage, within a few feet of the dividing fence. The super-sea-lion had thrust one long flipper between the bars, spooned a fish out of the cart, and was carefully scraping it along the ground toward its own pen.
Bridger was nearest to the cart. He kicked the fish out from under the flipper, which flew up and smacked him under the chin. Rubbing his beard and cursing luridly he sloshed the salvaged fish in the bucket and slapped it down on the pile. Fido's head appeared and he set up his mournful "Arf! Arf! Arf!" For the next hour he galumphed up and down, heaving his bulk against the fence at intervals and lamenting his loss. When the people had finished the apples and started on the raw fish, his bark changed to a piteous whine.
Wilson's heart melted. Fish was fish, but raw fish was something else again. Only Barnes and Scherer seemed to be making much headway with the stuff.
"Aw, come on—let's give him some," Wilson urged. "After all, he's our social equal."
However, before his idea could be put to a democratic vote, the keeper returned and dragged away the cart.
The morning dragged on, and the people could think of nothing better to do than to play tit-tat-toe in the sand of the enclosure. Zbradovski and Wilson were busily organizing a tournament when an unusual buzz of conversation from the watching "public" attracted their attention, and a group of six gorillas, carrying a variety of baggage, appeared outside. The watchers made way for them and stood in a circle at a respectful distance, commenting on what they did.
"There's that tommy-gun again," said Morelli.
"It can't be a gun," Barnes objected, "or they'd have used it on that pig. The way he's using it I'll bet it's a movie camera. Look at the little gadgets all over the outside."
"Two of them have notebooks," Ruth Pierne pointed out.
"Well I'll be a such-and-such!" exclaimed Franchot. "Will you look at what that big brute is screwing into his face? A monkey with a monocle! I s'y ol' deah—reminds you of bally ol' London, downcha know!"
For the rest of that day the six gorillas sat and watched, talking to one another and making marks in their notebooks. As the afternoon wore on, Mildred Henry grew bored.
"Come on, girls," she said. "If they want a show, let's give 'em something worth looking at. Ronnie—how about that last routine we were rehearsing for the new show? Think we can still do it?"
While the non-dancers kept time by clapping, the troupe went into their act. The gorillas seemed entranced at the spectacle: the note-takers put their faces close to the bars and watched every moment, while the cameraman ground away and the general public crowded closer, forgetting their awe of the big-wigs.
"Hey, Henley," Morelli whispered. "Wouldn't that act pack 'em in back home, dressed like they are?"
"You've got a dirty mind, Charley," the chemist retorted, but he had to admit the truth of what was said. The girls had what it took—abundantly—and they weren't bad dancers. Franchot was no Astaire, but he'd seen worse in Hollywood nightclubs on the rare occasions when he'd gone out on a mild binge.
That evening the familiar ration of oatmeal and nut-bread was slid into the cage, with a fresh bucket of water. It was very welcome after the morning's raw fish, but some of the crowd seemed a bit uncertain of the spirit in which it was offered.
"Gee," blurted Mabel Slemp, "I hope they're not just fattening us up to sacrifice to the great god What-his name, like in Tarzan!"
"For a nice wholesome girl, Mabel," Packard said, "you get some of the gloomiest ideas I ever heard of. Did you ever hear of anyone eating the monkeys in the zoo? Well—that's us, so why don't you settle down and scratch for fleas with the rest of us?"
The suggestion, however, did nothing to add to their comfort in the long, cold night that followed.
9
T'KLUGGL'S MEN
Next morning the six gorillas were back. This time the cart of apples remained outside the fence. The gorilla with the monocle took an apple and let himself into the enclosure. The others remained outside, holding long poles and watching the people closely for any signs of an attack.
Lord Percy, as Wilson had christened him of the eyeglass, advanced slowly, the apple resting on his upturned palm.
"Watch out, Henley," warned Enid Hansen. "He may be trying to get close enough to grab you."
"There's just one way to find out," replied the chemist, walking slowly toward the ape. "He acts more as though he were trying to get our confidence. Anyhow, they can grab us all easily enough if they want to." He took the apple from Lord Percy, said "Catch!" and tossed it to the crowd.
The gorilla ambled back to the gate. He took another apple, placed it on the ground outside the fence, about six feet from the pen, and tossed a short pole into the enclosure.
"Why'd he do that?" demanded Alice Lloyd.
Margaret Kelleigh picked up the pole and raked in the apple, which she proceeded to munch with relish.
"I think I see what he's doing," she said. "They're giving us mental tests to find out whether we can reason, the way Koehler did with his chimpanzees. The teachers' colleges give you another psychology course every time you turn around, and I've heard about Koehler's apes from every professor between here and Philadelphia."
"What?" bellowed Macdonald. "They want to see if we can think when we got three heavyweight professors with us? Haw, haw, haw!"
Next an apple was placed out of reach of the short pole, but a longer pole was placed within reach of it. The teacher had no difficulty in retrieving the longer pole, with which she hooked in the apple.
"I say!" complained Marie Smythe. "Peggy's getting all the apples. Let me try."
But when the next test was arranged she found that the apple was out of reach of the longer pole. She turned to the crowd in helpless consternation.
"Push the end of the short pole into that socket in the end of the long one," Scherer directed. When this was done, the apple was within easy reach of the combination. "Even Koehler's chimps could do that one without being told," the zoologist muttered under his breath.
There was a brief conference among the gorilla psychologists, then Lord Percy reentered the cage with a bag of apples and three small boxes painted respectively red, green, and blue. He beckoned to Bridger. With the chemist standing before him, he ostentatiously placed an apple in the red box. Then he turned all three boxes upside down on the sand, and shuffled them about rapidly.
The people by now were taking as lively an interest in the game of testing as their inquisitors. They crowded around the scientist while Franchot chanted in a loud singsong: "Step right up ladies and gentlemen—step right up and view this marvelous demonstration of legerdemain! The hand is quicker than the eye, folks—the hand is quicker than the eye! Watch carefully folks; which shell is the little pea under? One guess, ladies and gents! Ah—right the first time, Doctor Bridger! You win this beautiful kewpie doll of gen-u-ine unborn plush. Who else will try his skill? Mr. Toomey, you have a quick eye for the ladies—how about you? Watch the little pea, folks! Congratulations, Mr. Toomey—you're a wonder. Under the green box, sure enough. C'mon folks, only ten cents a chance—ten cents, one dime, the tenth part of a dollar!"
Lord Percy continued his shell game until his apples were exhausted.
"Well, now he knows we can tell red from green," Margaret Kelleigh commented. "Wonder what stunt they'll think up for us to try next?"
They soon l
earned. The ladder was placed against the fence, and a gorilla climbed up and fastened a long pole to the top of the palisade, from which hung a cord with an apple on the end. The fruit dangled about thirteen feet from the ground, and well away from the fence.
"How's your high jump, Sneeze?"' Morelli asked. "Think you can reach it?"
But that was not the method they were expected to use, for a second ape lugged three large wooden boxes into the enclosure.
"Who hasn't won an apple yet?" asked Bridger.
"You haven't," retorted Mildred Henry. "Let's see what a college education does for you."
As Bridger piled the boxes under the apple, climbed up, and stood on top triumphantly munching his prize, Wilson yelled "Ray for Doc Bridger! Savant Solves Simian Secret!"
The gorillas now went into a huddle, chattering and scratching their heads. "Looks as if they've run out of puzzles," said Zbradovski. "Why don't they give us something hard, like a calculus problem or a code message?"
The apes finally agreed on their next test, which consisted simply of removing the boxes and poles from the cage and suspending another apple in mid-air.
"Let's see," said Franchot. "We could climb the fence and untie the pole, but whatta you say we give 'em a show? Dave, you and Sneeze are the heaviest—suppose you stand together here. Now Charley, you and Nelson get behind to brace them. Emil, you stand here and boost Henley up on their shoulders when I give the word. All ready, Alley—oop!"
But at that precise moment Zbradovski squirmed and the human pyramid collapsed into a writhing mass of limbs. "Damn you, Charley," the youth yelled, spitting out sand, "you tickled me!"
"Honest I didn't," Morelli protested, retreating. "It was a pure accident."
The dispute was finally quieted, and a second attempt brought down the apple.
As Bridger jumped to the ground Franchot cried, "I got a swell idea! Line up, everybody, and face the monkeys!"
Somewhat mystified, they obeyed. "Now watch me, and when I give the word do just what I do. Got it? Okay—one, two, three—go!"
Genus Homo Page 10
