“Maybe it’s working in the movie that’s making him nervous,” Pete suggested, grinning. “A lot of actors get nervous at night trying to memorise their lines for the next day’s shooting.”

Jupiter snapped his fingers. “A humorous suggestion but nevertheless a possibility, Pete.” He turned to Mike. “How long have Jay Eastland and his crew been working at Jungle Land?”

“They’ve been around here about two months,” Mike said. “But a lot of that time was spent checking the locations, getting the setups planned for the shooting scenes, the right backgrounds, and so forth. They didn’t move in completely and start shooting until two weeks ago.”

“Do they shoot at night, too?” Jupe asked.

“Sometimes.”

Jupe frowned. “You said their set is about five minutes away from your house. Would their mikes pick up the sound of the metal shredder?”

“It’s possible,” Mike admitted. “I don’t know. Mr. Eastland hasn’t complained.”

“He might not have to do his sound work at Jungle Land,” said Pete, drawing on information he’d picked up from his father. “Sometimes the sound is dubbed in later — even the actors’ voices.”

Jupe nodded. “What about the actors and work crew? Do they live here, too?”

“Most of them go home at night,” Mike said. “The motorway is near here and most of them don’t live too far away — Westwood, Hollywood, West Los Angeles — it’s only a half-hour ride.”

“What about Mr. Eastland?” Jupe asked. “Does he stay here?”

“He can. He has his own trailer out there, and one apiece for the two stars, Rock Randall and Sue Stone. Uncle Jim rented them all of Jungle Land so they can stay if they want to. The gate is open and they come and go as they please. I don’t check and neither does Jim.”

“But they could be here,” Jupe said stubbornly. “They could be snooping around your house at night and making George nervous.”

“Why would they be doing that, Jupe?” asked Bob.

“I can’t think of any sensible reason, Bob,” he said. “All I say is the possibility exists.”

“Let’s get on with the tour, fellows,” said Mike. “Come on down to the fence and then we’ll circle around to the other side of the house.”

As the boys approached the fence, the strange sounds from the scrap yard began again. The rhythmical crunching, grinding noises ebbed and then the wailing sound started. This time the boys were expecting the almost human shriek of the mechanism and remained calm.

“Happy metal shredding!” Bob said, holding his ears. “I’m surprised all your animals aren’t nervous wrecks!”

Jupe looked at the fence gleaming in the moonlight. Metal stakes were pegged into the ground several yards apart, supporting a netting of wire links.

“Does this fence run all the way along your property line, Mike?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mike said. “It continues north past the salvage yard. Then there’s a big drainage ditch behind it which runs parallel the rest of the way. The fence is six feet high all the way, like it is here, and is strong enough to keep practically all our animals from escaping if they should happen to get loose.”

The boys continued north along the fence and then began to cut back up the hill through trees and tall grass. Suddenly Pete stopped.

“What’s up, Pete?” Bob said.

The tall boy pointed unsteadily ahead.

“Did you hear that?” Pete whispered.

The sounds from the salvage yard had ceased for the moment, and the boys all stood still, listening hard.

“Where, Pete?” asked Jupe. “What is it?”

Pete pointed again. “There.”

They heard a rustling sound in the tall grass and then heavy breathing.

“There!” Pete whispered hoarsely again.

The others followed the line of his keen sight. As they stared into the jungle darkness, they saw a shadowy movement.

They froze, scarcely daring to breathe.

Something moved from behind a tree.

It came forward, moving in a peculiar way. Then they saw the dark head, swaying between hunched, shaggy shoulders.

Jim Hall had told them they would be in no particular danger. Somehow they could not believe it as the panting gorilla came closer!

Jupiter recovered his senses first.

“Run!” the stocky leader of The Three Investigators shouted. “Ramble and scramble!”

The three turned and ran. Mike hesitated, torn between flight and duty. He stared a moment longer at the oncoming gorilla. Red-rimmed eyes glowered at him from beneath the shaggy, beetling brows.

Jupe, glancing back, saw the situation. “Run, Mike! He might be dangerous now!”

The creature raised its long arms and bared yellow teeth. Mike, with a sharp intake of breath, wavered, then broke and ran to join the others.

The gorilla pounded its chest, veered, and disappeared into the high grass.

“Where’d he go?” Bob called.

“He’s in the grass. I think we scared him off,” cried Mike. “Come on — I think we’d better head for the house.”

Warily they circled the area, their hearts pounding. They were nearly at the crest of the incline when suddenly the grass parted in front of them. Too late, they saw the shaggy creature step out.

The boys stood frozen with fear. The hulking creature raised its heavy arms and opened its mouth. A strange sound issued from its throat.

“Hit the ground!” a voice called sharply.

As the boys dived to the side, they heard a dull, thudding sound. They looked up to see Jim Hall and the vet with his stun gun raised.

The gorilla swayed, a puzzled look on its dark face. Then it moaned and toppled heavily to the ground.

“You boys all right?” Hall asked. They nodded dumbly, still shaken. “Nice shooting, Doc,” he said.

The vet nodded without changing expression. He walked up quickly and stood over the fallen gorilla as it feebly moved its limbs.

“He’s not hurt,” he told the boys as they crowded round. “It just takes a few seconds for the tranquillising drug to take effect. Then he’ll have a nice long sleep and we’ll be able to get him back to his cage.”

“Looks like we circled back in time,” Jim Hall said, frowning. “Somebody sent us off on a wild goose chase to the canyon for nothing. He could have been hiding in the trees here all the time.”

“Who told you the gorilla was in the canyon?” Jupe asked.

“Jay Eastland,” Hall said tersely.

Doc Dawson leaned over the inert simian. “He’s out already, Jim. Give me a hand and we can lug him to the car.”

Hall stooped and deftly roped the gorilla. He and Doc dragged the unconscious animal off. The boys followed as the two men hoisted it into the rear of the open jeep.

“Where are you taking him now, Mr. Hall?” Jupe asked.

“Back to his cage. Let’s hope he stays put this time.”

“Uncle Jim,” Mike put in, “Jupe noticed that one of the cage bars was missing. The ones next to it were bent, so that’s how he got out.”

Hall glanced keenly at Jupiter. “That’s how it happened, all right. Sure looks like somebody is trying to sabotage us, doesn’t it?”

“It would appear so, sir. But now I’m wondering how you can put the gorilla back into that cage and expect him to stay there.”

“That’s easy,” Hall said. “There’s a man at work now replacing the missing bar and straightening the bent ones.”

The jeep nosed out along the trail and Jupiter and the others followed at a dogtrot. Workmen were busy at the gorilla’s cage when they arrived at the house.

A large man with close-cropped hair turned to face them. His arms were thick and muscular, one of them heavily tattooed. He held a long hammer in one hamlike hand.

“She’s all set now,” he said to Jim Hall. He glanced at Doc Dawson. “Got him already? That was fast work, Doc.”

Jim Hall strode forward to the cage and the burly helper stepped aside. Hall put his weight against the cage bars, gripping them tightly and jerking his body from side to side.