{"id":9275,"date":"2020-08-27T14:12:16","date_gmt":"2020-08-27T19:12:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/?p=9275"},"modified":"2023-01-26T09:57:50","modified_gmt":"2023-01-26T15:57:50","slug":"the-most-dangerous-game","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/2020\/08\/27\/the-most-dangerous-game\/","title":{"rendered":"The Most Dangerous Game"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe  style=\"display: block; margin: 0px auto;\"  id=\"_ytid_37726\"  width=\"800\" height=\"450\"  data-origwidth=\"800\" data-origheight=\"450\"  data-relstop=\"1\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/_DXLTw22HOQ?enablejsapi=1&#038;autoplay=0&#038;cc_load_policy=0&#038;cc_lang_pref=&#038;iv_load_policy=1&#038;loop=0&#038;modestbranding=1&#038;rel=0&#038;fs=1&#038;playsinline=0&#038;autohide=2&#038;theme=dark&#038;color=red&#038;controls=1&#038;\" class=\"__youtube_prefs__  epyt-is-override  no-lazyload\" data-vol=\"50\"  title=\"The Most Dangerous Game (1932) [Adventure] [Horror]\"  allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture\" allowfullscreen data-no-lazy=\"1\" data-skipgform_ajax_framebjll=\"\"><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Click to follow a link to the attached video to view the classic film adaptation of this horror tale. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"by-richard-connell\"><strong>by&nbsp;Richard Connell<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"ship-trap-island\">Ship-Trap Island<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOff there to the right&#8211;somewhere&#8211;is a large island,\u201d said Whitney. \u201cIt\u2019s rather a mystery&#8211;\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat island is it?\u201d Rainsford asked.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe old charts call it \u2018Ship-Trap Island\u2019,\u201d Whitney replied. \u201cA suggestive name, isn\u2019t it? Sailors have a curious dread of the place. I don\u2019t know why. Some superstition&#8211;\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCan\u2019t see it,\u201d remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through the dank tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick warm blackness in upon the yacht.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019ve good eyes,\u201d said Whitney, with a laugh,\u201d and I\u2019ve seen you pick off a moose moving in the brown fall bush at four hundred yards, but even you can\u2019t see four miles or so through a moonless Caribbean night.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNor four yards,\u201d admitted Rainsford. \u201cUgh! It\u2019s like moist black velvet.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"a-bad-one\">A bad one<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt will be light enough in Rio,\u201d promised Whitney. \u201cWe should make it in a few days. I hope the jaguar guns have come from Purdey\u2019s. We should have some good hunting up the Amazon. Great sport, hunting.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe best sport in the world,\u201d agreed Rainsford.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cFor the hunter,\u201d amended Whitney. \u201cNot for the jaguar.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t talk rot, Whitney,\u201d said Rainsford. \u201cYou\u2019re a big-game hunter, not a philosopher. Who cares how a jaguar feels?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPerhaps the jaguar does,\u201d observed Whitney.&nbsp;&#8220;If you were lost in the jungle without a gun perhaps you would view the Jaguar differently.&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBah! They\u2019ve no understanding.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cEven so, I rather think they understand one thing&#8211;fear. The fear of pain and the fear of death.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNonsense,\u201d laughed Rainsford. \u201cThis hot weather is making you soft, Whitney. Be a realist. The world is made up of two classes&#8211;the hunters and the huntees. Luckily, you and I are hunters. Do you think we\u2019ve passed that island yet?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI can\u2019t tell in the dark. I hope so.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhy? \u201c asked Rainsford.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe place has a reputation&#8211;a bad one.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCannibals?\u201d suggested Rainsford.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHardly. Even cannibals wouldn\u2019t live in such a God-forsaken place. But it\u2019s gotten into sailor lore, somehow. Didn\u2019t you notice that the crew\u2019s nerves seemed a bit jumpy today?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThey were a bit strange, now you mention it. Even Captain Nielsen&#8211;\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes, even that tough-minded old Swede, who\u2019d go up to the devil himself and ask him for a light. Those fishy blue eyes held a look I never saw there before. All I could get out of him was \u2018This place has an evil name among seafaring men, sir.\u2019 Then he said to me, very gravely, \u2018Don\u2019t you feel anything?\u2019&#8211;as if the air about us was actually poisonous. Now, you mustn\u2019t laugh when I tell you this&#8211;I did feel something like a sudden chill.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThere was no breeze. The sea was as flat as a plate-glass window. We were drawing near the island then. What I felt was a&#8211;a mental chill; a sort of sudden dread.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPure imagination,\u201d said Rainsford.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOne superstitious sailor can taint the whole ship\u2019s company with his fear.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMaybe. But sometimes I think sailors have an extra sense that tells them when they are in danger. Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing&#8211;with wave lengths, just as sound and light have. An evil place can, so to speak, broadcast vibrations of evil. Anyhow, I\u2019m glad we\u2019re getting out of this zone. Well, I think I\u2019ll turn in now, Rainsford.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m not sleepy,\u201d said Rainsford. \u201cI\u2019m going to smoke another pipe up on the afterdeck.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGood night, then, Rainsford. See you at breakfast.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cRight. Good night, Whitney.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"someone-had-fired\">Someone had fired<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>There was no sound in the night as Rainsford sat there but the muffled throb of the engine that drove the yacht swiftly through the darkness, and the swish and ripple of the wash of the propeller.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford, reclining in a steamer chair, indolently puffed on his favorite brier. The sensuous drowsiness of the night was on him.\u201d It\u2019s so dark,\u201d he thought, \u201cthat I could sleep without closing my eyes; the night would be my eyelids&#8211;\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>An abrupt sound startled him. Off to the right he heard it, and his ears, expert in such matters, could not be mistaken. Again he heard the sound, and again. Somewhere, off in the blackness, someone had fired a gun three times.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford sprang up and moved quickly to the rail, mystified. He strained his eyes in the direction from which the reports had come, but it was like trying to see through a blanket. He leaped upon the rail and balanced himself there, to get greater elevation; his pipe, striking a rope, was knocked from his mouth. He lunged for it; a short, hoarse cry came from his lips as he realized he had reached too far and had lost his balance. The cry was pinched off short as the blood-warm waters of the Caribbean Sea dosed over his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He struggled up to the surface and tried to cry out, but the wash from the speeding yacht slapped him in the face and the salt water in his open mouth made him gag and strangle. Desperately he struck out with strong strokes after the receding lights of the yacht, but he stopped before he had swum fifty feet. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A certain coolheadedness had come to him; it was not the first time he had been in a tight place. There was a chance that his cries could be heard by someone aboard the yacht, but that chance was slender and grew more slender as the yacht raced on. He wrestled himself out of his clothes and shouted with all his power. The lights of the yacht became faint and ever-vanishing fireflies; then they were blotted out entirely by the night.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford remembered the shots. They had come from the right, and doggedly he swam in that direction, swimming with slow, deliberate strokes, conserving his strength.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>For a seemingly endless time he fought the sea. He began to count his strokes; he could do possibly a hundred more and then &#8212;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford heard a sound. It came out of the darkness, a high screaming sound, the sound of an animal in an extremity of anguish and terror.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Despite an effort he did not recognize the animal that made the sound; he did not try to; with fresh vitality he swam toward the sound. He heard it again; then it was cut short by another noise, crisp, staccato.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPistol shot,\u201d muttered Rainsford, swimming on.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Ten minutes of determined effort brought another sound to his ears&#8211;the most welcome he had ever heard&#8211;the muttering and growling of the sea breaking on a rocky shore. He was almost on the rocks before he saw them; on a night less calm he would have been shattered against them. With his remaining strength he dragged himself from the swirling waters. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Jagged crags appeared to jut up into the opaqueness; he forced himself upward, hand over hand. Gasping, his hands raw, he reached a flat place at the top. Dense jungle came down to the very edge of the cliffs. What perils that tangle of trees and underbrush might hold for him did not concern Rainsford just then. All he knew was that he was safe from his enemy, the sea, and that utter weariness was on him. He flung himself down at the jungle edge and tumbled headlong into the deepest sleep of his life.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When he opened his eyes he knew from the position of the sun that it was late in the afternoon. Although sleep had given him new vigor, a sharp hunger was picking at him. He looked about him, almost cheerfully.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhere there are pistol shots, there are men. Where there are men, there is food,\u201d he thought. But what kind of men, he wondered, in so forbidding a place? An unbroken front of snarled and ragged jungle fringed the shore.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"leering-gargoyle\">Leering gargoyle<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>He saw no sign of a trail through the closely knit web of weeds and trees; it was easier to go along the shore, and Rainsford floundered along by the water. Not far from where he landed, he stopped.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Some wounded thing&#8211;by the evidence, a large animal&#8211;had thrashed about in the underbrush; the jungle weeds were crushed down and the moss was lacerated; one patch of weeds was stained crimson. A small, glittering object not far away caught Rainsford\u2019s eye and he picked it up. It was an empty cartridge.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cA twenty-two,\u201d he remarked. \u201cThat\u2019s odd. It must have been a fairly large animal too. The hunter had his nerve with him to tackle it with a light gun. It\u2019s clear that the brute put up a fight. I suppose the first three shots I heard was when the hunter flushed his quarry and wounded it. The last shot was when he trailed it here and finished it.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He examined the ground closely and found what he had hoped to find&#8211;the print of hunting boots. They pointed along the cliff in the direction he had been going. Eagerly he&nbsp; hurried along, now slipping on a rotten log or a loose stone, but making headway; night was beginning to settle down on the island.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Bleak darkness was blacking out the sea and jungle when Rainsford sighted the lights. He came upon them as he turned a crook in the coast line; and his first thought was that be had come upon a village, for there were many lights. But as he forged along he saw to his great astonishment that all the lights were in one enormous building&#8211;a lofty structure with pointed towers plunging upward into the gloom. His eyes made out the shadowy outlines of a palatial chateau; it was set on a high bluff, and on three sides of it cliffs dived down to where the sea licked greedy lips in the shadows.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;\u201cMirage,\u201d thought Rainsford. But it was no mirage, he found, when he opened the tall spiked iron gate. The stone steps were real enough; the massive door with a leering <a rel=\"noreferrer noopener\" href=\"https:\/\/www.mentalfloss.com\/article\/88019\/10-fearsome-facts-about-gargoyles\" target=\"_blank\">gargoyle<\/a> for a knocker was real enough; yet above it all hung an air of unreality.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He lifted the knocker, and it creaked up stiffly, as if it had never before been used.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He let it fall, and it startled him with its booming loudness. Although he thought he heard steps within, the door remained closed. Again Rainsford lifted the heavy knocker, and let it fall. The door opened then&#8211;opened as suddenly as if it were on a spring&#8211;and Rainsford stood blinking in the river of glaring gold light that poured out. The first thing Rainsford\u2019s eyes discerned was the largest man Rainsford had ever seen&#8211;a gigantic creature, solidly made and black bearded to the waist. In his hand the man held a long-barreled revolver, and he was pointing it straight at Rainsford\u2019s heart.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Out of the snarl of beard two small eyes regarded Rainsford.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t be alarmed,\u201d said Rainsford, with a smile which he hoped was disarming.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m no robber. I fell off a yacht. My name is Sanger Rainsford of New York City.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The menacing look in the eyes did not change. The revolver pointing as rigidly as if the giant were a statue. He gave no sign that he understood Rainsford\u2019s words, or that he had even heard them. He was dressed in uniform&#8211;a black uniform trimmed with gray astrakhan.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m Sanger Rainsford of New York,\u201d Rainsford began again. \u201cI fell off a yacht. I am hungry.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The man\u2019s only answer was to raise with his thumb the hammer of his revolver.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Then Rainsford saw the man\u2019s free hand go to his forehead in a military salute, and he saw him click his heels together and stand at attention. Another man was coming down the broad marble steps, an erect, slender man in evening clothes. He advanced to Rainsford and held out his hand.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In a cultivated voice marked by a slight accent that gave it added precision and deliberateness, he said, \u201cIt is a very great pleasure and honor to welcome Mr. Sanger Rainsford, the celebrated hunter, to my home.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Automatically Rainsford shook the man\u2019s hand.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ve read your book about hunting snow leopards in Tibet, you see,\u201d explained the man. \u201cI am General Zaroff.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"he-is-a-cossack\">&#8216;He is a Cossack&#8217;<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford\u2019s first impression was that the man was singularly handsome; his second was that there was an original, almost bizarre quality about the general\u2019s face. He was a tall man past middle age, for his hair was a vivid white; but his thick eyebrows and pointed military mustache were as black as the night from which Rainsford had come.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>His eyes, too, were black and very bright. He had high cheekbones, a sharpcut nose, a spare, dark face&#8211;the face of a man used to giving orders, the face of an aristocrat.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Turning to the giant in uniform, the general made a sign. The giant put away his pistol, saluted, withdrew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIvan is an incredibly strong fellow,\u201d remarked the general, \u201cbut he has the&nbsp;misfortune to be deaf and dumb. A simple fellow, but, I\u2019m afraid, like all his race, a bit of&nbsp; a savage.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIs he Russian?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHe is a Cossack,\u201d said the general, and his smile showed red lips and pointed teeth.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSo am I.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCome,\u201d he said, \u201cwe shouldn\u2019t be chatting here. We can talk later. Now you want clothes, food, rest. You shall have them. This is a most-restful spot.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Ivan had reappeared, and the general spoke to him with lips that moved but gave forth no sound.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cFollow Ivan, if you please, Mr. Rainsford,\u201d said the general. \u201cI was about to have my dinner when you came. I\u2019ll wait for you. You\u2019ll find that my clothes will fit you, I think.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>It was to a huge, beam-ceilinged bedroom with a canopied bed big enough for six men that Rainsford followed the silent giant. Ivan laid out an evening suit, and Rainsford, as he put it on, noticed that it came from a London tailor who ordinarily cut and sewed for none below the rank of duke.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The dining room to which Ivan conducted him was in many ways remarkable. There was a medieval magnificence about it; it suggested a baronial hall of feudal times with its oaken panels, its high ceiling, its vast refectory tables where twoscore men could sit down to eat. About the hall were mounted heads of many animals&#8211;lions, tigers, elephants, moose, bears; larger or more perfect specimens Rainsford had never seen. At the great table the general was sitting, alone.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019ll have a cocktail, Mr. Rainsford,\u201d he suggested. The cocktail was surpassingly good; and, Rainsford noted, the table appointments were of the finest&#8211;the linen, the crystal, the silver, the china.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>They were eating borsch, the rich, red soup with whipped cream so dear to Russian palates. Half apologetically General Zaroff said, \u201cWe do our best to preserve the amenities of civilization here. Please forgive any lapses. We are well off the beaten track, you know. Do you think the champagne has suffered from its long ocean trip?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNot in the least,\u201d declared Rainsford. He was finding the general a most thoughtful and affable host, a true cosmopolite. But there was one small trait of the general\u2019s that made Rainsford uncomfortable. Whenever he looked up from his plate he found the general studying him, appraising him narrowly.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPerhaps,\u201d said General Zaroff, \u201cyou were surprised that I recognized your name.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>You see, I read all books on hunting published in English, French, and Russian. I have but one passion in my life, Mr. Rainsford, and it is the hunt.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"the-most-dangerous\">The most dangerous<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou have some wonderful heads here,\u201d said Rainsford as he ate a particularly well-cooked filet mignon. \u201c That Cape buffalo is the largest I ever saw.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh, that fellow. Yes, he was a monster.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDid he charge you?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHurled me against a tree,\u201d said the general. \u201cFractured my skull. However I got the brute.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ve always thought,\u201d said Rainsford, \u201cthat the Cape buffalo is the most dangerous of all big game.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>For a moment the general did not reply; he was smiling his curious red-lipped smile.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Then he said slowly, \u201cNo. You are wrong, sir. The Cape buffalo is not the most dangerous big game.\u201d He sipped his wine. \u201cHere in my preserve on this island,\u201d he said in the same slow tone, \u201cI hunt more dangerous game.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford expressed his surprise. \u201cIs there big game on this island?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general nodded. \u201cThe biggest.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cReally?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh, it isn\u2019t here naturally, of course. I have to stock the island.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat have you imported, general?\u201d Rainsford asked. \u201cTigers?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general smiled. \u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cHunting tigers ceased to interest me some years ago. I exhausted their possibilities, you see. No thrill left in tigers, no real danger. I live for danger, Mr. Rainsford.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general took from his pocket a gold cigarette case and offered his guest a long black cigarette with a silver tip; it was perfumed and gave off a smell like incense.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe will have some capital hunting, you and I,\u201d said the general. \u201cI shall be most glad to have your society.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut what game&#8211;\u201d began Rainsford.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll tell you,\u201d said the general. \u201cYou will be amused, I know. I think I may say, in all modesty, that I have done a rare thing. I have invented a new sensation. May I pour you another glass of port?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThank you, general.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general filled both glasses, and said, \u201cGod makes some men poets. Some He makes kings, some beggars. Me He made a hunter.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>My hand was made for the trigger, my father said. He was a very rich man with a quarter of a million acres in the Crimea, and he was an ardent sportsman. When I was only five years old he gave me a little gun, specially made in Moscow for me, to shoot sparrows with. When I shot some of his prize turkeys with it, he did not punish me; he complimented me on my marksmanship. I killed my first bear in the Caucasus when I was ten. My whole life has been one prolonged hunt. I went into the army&#8211;it was expected of noblemen\u2019s sons&#8211;and for a time commanded a division of Cossack cavalry. But my real interest was always the hunt. I have hunted every kind of game in every land. It would be impossible for me to tell you&nbsp;how many animals I have killed.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general puffed at his cigarette.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAfter the debacle in Russia I left the country, for it was imprudent for an officer of the Czar to stay there. Many noble Russians lost everything. I, luckily, had invested heavily in American securities, so I shall never have to open a tearoom in Monte Carlo or drive a taxi in Paris. Naturally, I continued to hunt&#8211;grizzlies in your Rockies, crocodiles in the Ganges, rhinoceroses in East Africa. It was in Africa that the Cape buffalo hit me and laid me up for six months. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As soon as I recovered I started for the Amazon to hunt jaguars, for I had heard they were unusually cunning. They weren\u2019t.\u201d The Cossack sighed. \u201cThey were no match at all for a hunter with his wits about him, and a high-powered rifle. I was bitterly disappointed. I was lying in my tent with a splitting headache one night when a terrible thought pushed its way into my mind. Hunting was beginning to bore me! And hunting, remember, had been my life. I have heard that in America businessmen often go to pieces when they give up the business that has been their life.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes, that\u2019s so,\u201d said Rainsford.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general smiled. \u201cI had no wish to go to pieces,\u201d he said. \u201cI must do something.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Now, mine is an analytical mind, Mr. Rainsford. Doubtless that is why I enjoy the problems of the chase.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo doubt, General Zaroff.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSo,\u201d continued the general, \u201cI asked myself why the hunt no longer fascinated me.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>You are much younger than I am, Mr. Rainsford, and have not hunted as much, but you perhaps can guess the answer.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat was it?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSimply this: hunting had ceased to be what you call &#8216;a sporting proposition.\u2019 It had become too easy. I always got my quarry. Always. However there is no greater bore than perfection.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"a-new-animal\">A new animal<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>The general lit a fresh cigarette.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo animal had a chance with me any more. That is no boast; it is a mathematical certainty. The animal had nothing but his legs and his instinct. Instinct is no match for reason. When I thought of this it was a tragic moment for me, I can tell you.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford leaned across the table, absorbed in what his host was saying.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt came to me as an inspiration what I must do,\u201d the general went on.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnd that was?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general smiled the quiet smile of one who has faced an obstacle and surmounted it with success. \u201cI had to invent a new animal to hunt,\u201d he said.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cA new animal? You\u2019re joking.\u201d \u201cNot at all,\u201d said the general. \u201cI never joke about hunting. I needed a new animal and I found one. That&#8217;s why I bought this island, built this house, and here I do my hunting. The island is perfect for my purposes&#8211;there are jungles with a maze of trails in them, hills, swamps&#8211;\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut the animal, General Zaroff?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh,\u201d said the general, \u201cit supplies me with the most exciting hunting in the world.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>No other hunting compares with it for an instant. Every day I hunt, and I never grow bored now, for I have a quarry with which I can match my wits.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford\u2019s bewilderment showed in his face.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI wanted the ideal animal to hunt,\u201d explained the general. \u201cSo I said, `What are the attributes of an ideal quarry?\u2019 And the answer was, of course, `It must have courage, cunning, and, above all, it must be able to reason.&#8217;\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut no animal can reason,\u201d objected Rainsford.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMy dear fellow,\u201d said the general, \u201cthere is one that can.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut you can\u2019t mean&#8211;\u201d gasped Rainsford.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnd why not?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI can\u2019t believe you are serious, General Zaroff. This is a grisly joke.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhy should I not be serious? I am speaking of hunting.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHunting? Great Guns, General Zaroff, what you speak of is murder.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"hunting-humans\">Hunting humans<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>The general laughed with entire good nature. He regarded Rainsford quizzically. \u201cI refuse to believe that so modern and civilized a young man as you seem to be harbors romantic ideas about the value of human life. Surely your experiences in the war&#8211;\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDid not make me condone cold-blooded murder,\u201d finished Rainsford stiffly.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Laughter shook the general. \u201cHow extraordinarily droll you are!\u201d he said. \u201cOne does not expect nowadays to find a young man of the educated class, even in America, with such a naive, and, if I may say so, mid-Victorian point of view. It\u2019s like finding a snuffbox in a limousine. Ah, well, doubtless you had Puritan ancestors. So many Americans appear to have had. I\u2019ll wager you\u2019ll forget your notions when you go hunting humans with me. You\u2019ve a genuine new thrill in store for you, Mr. Rainsford.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThank you, I\u2019m a hunter, not a murderer.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDear me,\u201d said the general, quite unruffled, \u201cagain that unpleasant word. But I think I can show you that your scruples are quite ill founded.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cLife is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and, if needs be, taken by the strong.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;The weak of the world were put here to give the strong pleasure. I am strong. Why should I not use my gift? If I wish to hunt humans, why should I not? I hunt the scum of the earth: sailors from tramp ships &#8212; lassars, Chinese, whites, mongrels&#8211;a thoroughbred horse or hound is worth more than a score of them.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut they are men,\u201d said Rainsford hotly.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPrecisely,\u201d said the general. \u201cThat is why I use them. It gives me pleasure. They can reason, after a fashion. Hence they are dangerous.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut where do you get them?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general\u2019s left eyelid fluttered down in a wink. \u201cThis island is called Ship Trap,\u201d he answered. \u201cSometimes an angry god of the high seas sends them to me. But sometimes, as well, when Providence is not so kind, I help Providence a bit. Come to the window with me.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford went to the window and looked out toward the sea.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWatch! Out there!\u201d exclaimed the general, pointing into the night. Rainsford\u2019s eyes saw only blackness, and then, as the general pressed a button, far out to sea Rainsford saw the flash of lights.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"see-for-yourself\">See for yourself<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>The general chuckled. \u201cThey indicate a channel,\u201d he said, \u201cwhere there\u2019s none; giant rocks with razor edges crouch like a sea monster with wide-open jaws. They can crush a ship as easily as I crush this nut.\u201d He dropped a walnut on the hardwood floor and brought his heel grinding down on it. \u201cOh, yes,\u201d he said, casually, as if in answer to a question, \u201cI have electricity. We try to be civilized here.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCivilized? And you shoot down men?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A trace of anger was in the general\u2019s black eyes, but it was there for but a second; and he said, in his most pleasant manner, \u201cDear me, what a righteous young man you are!&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I assure you I do not do the thing you suggest. That would be barbarous. I treat these visitors with every consideration. They get plenty of good food and exercise. They get into splendid physical condition. You shall see for yourself tomorrow.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe\u2019ll visit my training school,\u201d smiled the general. \u201cIt\u2019s in the cellar. I have about a dozen pupils down there now. They\u2019re from the Spanish bark San Lucar that had the bad luck to go on the rocks out there. A very inferior lot, I regret to say. Poor specimens and more accustomed to the deck than to the jungle.\u201d He raised his hand, and Ivan, who served as waiter, brought thick Turkish coffee. Rainsford, with an effort, held his tongue in check.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s a game, you see,\u201d pursued the general blandly. \u201cI suggest to one of them that we go hunting.  Give him a supply of food and an excellent hunting knife, I give him three hours\u2019 start before I follow, armed only with a pistol of the smallest caliber and range. If my quarry eludes me for three whole days, he wins the game. If I find him\u201d &#8211;the general smiled&#8211; \u201che loses.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSuppose he refuses to be hunted?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh,\u201d said the general, \u201cI give him his option, of course. He need not play that game if he doesn\u2019t wish to. If he does not wish to hunt, I turn him over to Ivan. Ivan once had the honor of serving as official knouter to the Great White Czar, and he has his own ideas of sport. Invariably, Mr. Rainsford, invariably they choose the hunt.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnd if they win?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The smile on the general\u2019s face widened. \u201cTo date I have not lost,\u201d he said. Then he added, hastily: \u201cI don\u2019t wish you to think me a braggart, Mr. Rainsford. Many of them afford only the most elementary sort of problem. Occasionally I strike a tartar. One almost did win. I eventually had to use the dogs.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe dogs?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThis way, please. I\u2019ll show you.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general steered Rainsford to a window. The lights from the windows sent a flickering illumination that made grotesque patterns on the courtyard below, and Rainsford could see moving about there a dozen or so huge black shapes; as they turned toward him, their eyes glittered greenly.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cA rather good lot, I think,\u201d observed the general. \u201cThey are let out at seven every night. If anyone should try to get into my house &#8212; or out of it &#8212; something extremely regrettable would occur to him.\u201d He hummed a snatch of song from the Folies Bergere.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnd now,\u201d said the general, \u201cI want to show you my new collection of heads. Will you come with me to the library?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI hope,\u201d said Rainsford, \u201cthat you will excuse me tonight, General Zaroff. I\u2019m really not feeling well.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAh, indeed?\u201d the general inquired solicitously. \u201cWell, I suppose that\u2019s only natural, after your long swim. You need a good, restful night\u2019s sleep. Tomorrow you\u2019ll feel like a new man, I\u2019ll wager. Then we\u2019ll hunt, eh? I\u2019ve one rather promising prospect&#8211;\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"stalking-sapiens\">Stalking sapiens<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford was hurrying from the room.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSorry you can\u2019t go with me tonight,\u201d called the general. \u201cI expect rather fair sport &#8212; a big, strong, mongrel. He looks resourceful. Well, good night, Mr. Rainsford; I hope you have a good night\u2019s rest.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The bed was good, and the pajamas of the softest silk, and he was tired in every fiber of his being, but nevertheless Rainsford could not quiet his brain with the opiate of sleep.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He lay, eyes wide open. Once he thought he heard stealthy steps in the corridor outside his room. He sought to throw open the door; it would not open. He went to the window and looked out. His room was high up in one of the towers. The lights of the chateau were out now, and it was dark and silent; but there was a fragment of sallow moon, and by its wan light he could see, dimly, the courtyard. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>There, weaving in and out in the pattern of shadow, were black, noiseless forms; the hounds heard him at the window and looked up, expectantly, with their green eyes. Rainsford went back to the bed and lay down. By many methods he tried to put himself to sleep. He had achieved a doze when, just as morning began to come, he heard, far off in the jungle, the faint report of a pistol.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"leave-this-island\">Leave this island<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>General Zaroff did not appear until luncheon. He was dressed faultlessly in the tweeds of a country squire. He was solicitous about the state of Rainsford\u2019s health.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAs for me,\u201d sighed the general, \u201cI do not feel so well. I am worried, Mr. Rainsford.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cLast night I detected traces of my old complaint.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>To Rainsford\u2019s questioning glance the general said, \u201cEnnui. Boredom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Then, taking a second helping of cr\u00eapes Suzette, the general explained: \u201cThe hunting was not good last night. The fellow lost his head. He made a straight trail that offered no problems at all. That\u2019s the trouble with these sailors; they have dull brains to begin with, and they do not know how to get about in the woods. They do excessively stupid and obvious things. It\u2019s most annoying. Will you have another glass of Chablis, Mr. Rainsford?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"my-idea-of-sport\">My idea of sport<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGeneral,\u201d said Rainsford firmly, \u201cI wish to leave this island at once.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general raised his thickets of eyebrows; he seemed hurt. \u201cBut, my dear fellow,\u201d the general protested, \u201cyou\u2019ve only just come. You\u2019ve had no hunting&#8211;\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI wish to go today,\u201d said Rainsford. He saw the dead black eyes of the general on him, studying him. General Zaroff\u2019s face suddenly brightened.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He filled Rainsford\u2019s glass with venerable Chablis from a dusty bottle.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cTonight,\u201d said the general, \u201cwe will hunt&#8211;you and I.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford shook his head. \u201cNo, general,\u201d he said. \u201cI will not join in hunting humans.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general shrugged his shoulders and delicately ate a hothouse grape. \u201cAs you wish, my friend,\u201d he said. \u201cThe choice rests entirely with you. But may I not venture to suggest that you will find my idea of sport more diverting than Ivan\u2019s?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He nodded toward the corner to where the giant stood, scowling, his thick arms crossed on his hogshead of chest.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"avoid-the-big-swamp\">Avoid the big swamp<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou don\u2019t mean&#8211;\u201d cried Rainsford.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMy dear fellow,\u201d said the general, \u201chave I not told you I always mean what I say about hunting? This is really an inspiration. I drink to a foeman worthy of my steel&#8211;at last.\u201d The general raised his glass, but Rainsford sat staring at him.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019ll find this game worth playing,\u201d the general said enthusiastically. \u201cYour brain against mine. Your woodcraft against mine. Your strength and stamina against mine. Outdoor chess! And the stake is not without value, eh?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnd if I win&#8211;\u201d began Rainsford huskily.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll cheerfully acknowledge myself defeated if I do not find you by midnight of the third day,\u201d said General Zaroff. \u201cMy sloop will place you on the mainland near a town.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general read what Rainsford was thinking.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh, you can trust me,\u201d said the Cossack. \u201cI will give you my word as a gentleman and a sportsman. Of course you, in turn, must agree to say nothing of your visit here.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll agree to nothing of the kind,\u201d said Rainsford.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh,\u201d said the general, \u201cin that case &#8212; But why discuss that now? Three days hence we can discuss it over a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, unless&#8211;\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general sipped his wine.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Then a businesslike air animated him. \u201cIvan,\u201d he said to Rainsford, \u201cwill supply you with hunting clothes, food, a knife. I suggest you wear moccasins; they leave a poorer trail. I suggest, too, that you avoid the big swamp in the southeast corner of the island.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe call it Death Swamp. There\u2019s quicksand there. One foolish fellow tried it. The deplorable part of it was that Lazarus followed him. You can imagine my feelings, Mr. Rainsford. I loved Lazarus; he was the finest hound in my pack. Well, I must beg you to excuse me now. I always\u2019 take a siesta after lunch. You\u2019ll hardly have time for a nap, I fear. You\u2019ll want to start, no doubt. I shall not follow till dusk. Hunting at night is so much more exciting than by day, don\u2019t you think? Au revoir, Mr. Rainsford, au revoir.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>General Zaroff, with a deep, courtly bow, strolled from the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>From another door came Ivan. Under one arm he carried khaki hunting clothes, a haversack of food, a leather sheath containing a long-bladed hunting knife; his right hand rested on a cocked revolver thrust in the crimson sash about his waist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"played-the-fox\">Played the fox<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-group is-layout-flow wp-block-group-is-layout-flow\"><div class=\"wp-block-group__inner-container\"><\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford had fought his way through the bush for two hours. \u201cI must keep my nerve. I must keep my nerve,\u201d he said through tight teeth.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He had not been entirely clearheaded when the chateau gates snapped shut behind him. His whole idea at first was to put distance between himself and General Zaroff; and, to this end, he had plunged along, spurred on by the sharp rowers of something very like panic. Now he had got a grip on himself, had stopped, and was taking stock of himself and the situation. He saw that straight flight was futile; inevitably it would bring him face to face with the sea. He was in a picture with a frame of water, and his operations, clearly, must take place within that frame.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll give him a trail to follow,\u201d muttered Rainsford, and he struck off from the rude path he had been following into the trackless wilderness. He executed a series of intricate loops; he doubled on his trail again and again, recalling all the lore of the fox hunt, and all the dodges of the fox. Night found him leg-weary, with hands and face lashed by the branches, on a thickly wooded ridge. He knew it would be insane to blunder on through the dark, even if he had the strength. His need for rest was imperative and he thought, \u201cI have played the fox, now I must play the cat of the fable.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"the-devil-himself\">The devil himself<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>A big tree with a thick trunk and outspread branches was near by, and, taking care to leave not the slightest mark, he climbed up into the crotch, and, stretching out on one of the broad limbs, after a fashion, rested. Rest brought him new confidence and almost a feeling of security. Even so zealous a hunter as General Zaroff could not trace him there, he told himself; only the devil himself could follow that complicated trail through the jungle after dark. But perhaps the general was a devil&#8211;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>An apprehensive night crawled slowly by like a wounded snake and sleep did not visit Rainsford, although the silence of a dead world was on the jungle. Toward morning when a dingy gray was varnishing the sky, the cry of some startled bird focused Rainsford\u2019s attention in that direction. Something was coming through the bush, coming slowly, carefully, coming by the same winding way Rainsford had come. He flattened himself down on the limb and, through a screen of leaves almost as thick as tapestry, he watched. . . . That which was approaching was a man.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>It was General Zaroff. He made his way along with his eyes fixed in utmost&nbsp;concentration on the ground before him. He paused, almost beneath the tree, dropped to his knees and studied the ground. Rainsford\u2019s impulse was to hurl himself down like a panther, but he saw that the general\u2019s right hand held something metallic&#8211;a small automatic pistol.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The hunter shook his head several times, as if he were puzzled. Then he straightened up and took from his case one of his black cigarettes; its pungent incenselike smoke floated up to Rainsford\u2019s nostrils.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford held his breath. The general\u2019s eyes had left the ground and were traveling inch by inch up the tree. Rainsford froze there, every muscle tensed for a spring. But the sharp eyes of the hunter stopped before they reached the limb where Rainsford lay; a smile spread over his brown face. Very deliberately he blew a smoke ring into the air; then he turned his back on the tree and walked carelessly away, back along the trail he had come. The swish of the underbrush against his hunting boots grew fainter and fainter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The pent-up air burst hotly from Rainsford\u2019s lungs. His first thought made him feel sick and numb. The general could follow a trail through the woods at night; he could follow an extremely difficult trail; he must have uncanny powers; only by the merest chance had the Cossack failed to see his quarry.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford\u2019s second thought was even more terrible. It sent a shudder of cold horror through his whole being. Why had the general smiled? Why had he turned back?&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford did not want to believe what his reason told him was true, but the truth was as evident as the sun that had by now pushed through the morning mists. The general was playing with him! The general was saving him for another day\u2019s sport! The Cossack was the cat; he was the mouse. Then it was that Rainsford knew the full meaning of terror.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"malay-mancatcher\">Malay mancatcher<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI will not lose my nerve. I will not.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He slid down from the tree, and struck off again into the woods. His face was set and he forced the machinery of his mind to function. Three hundred yards from his hiding place he stopped where a huge dead tree leaned precariously on a smaller, living one.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Throwing off his sack of food, Rainsford took his knife from its sheath and began to work with all his energy.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The job was finished at last, and he threw himself down behind a fallen log a hundred feet away. He did not have to wait long. The cat was coming again to play with the mouse.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Following the trail with the sureness of a bloodhound came General Zaroff. Nothing escaped those searching black eyes, no crushed blade of grass, no bent twig, no mark, no matter how faint, in the moss. So intent was the Cossack on his stalking that he was upon the thing Rainsford had made before he saw it. His foot touched the protruding bough that was the trigger. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Even as he touched it, the general sensed his danger and leaped back with the agility of an ape. But he was not quite quick enough; the dead tree, delicately adjusted to rest on the cut living one, crashed down and struck the general a glancing blow on the shoulder as it fell; but for his alertness, he must have been smashed beneath it. He staggered, but he did not fall; nor did he drop his revolver. He stood there, rubbing his injured shoulder, and Rainsford, with fear again gripping his heart, heard the general\u2019s mocking laugh ring through the jungle.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cRainsford,\u201d called the general, \u201cif you are within sound of my voice, as I suppose you are, let me congratulate you. Not many men know how to make a Malay mancatcher.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Luckily for me I, too, have hunted in Malacca. You are proving interesting, Mr. Rainsford. I am going now to have my wound dressed; it\u2019s only a slight one. But I shall be back. I shall be back.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"tore-his-feet-loose\">Tore his feet loose<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>When the general, nursing his bruised shoulder, had gone, Rainsford took up his flight again. It was flight now, a desperate, hopeless flight, that carried him on for some hours. Dusk came, then darkness, and still he pressed on. The ground grew softer under his moccasins; the vegetation grew ranker, denser; insects bit him savagely.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Then, as he stepped forward, his foot sank into the ooze. He tried to wrench it back, but the muck sucked viciously at his foot as if it were a giant leech. With a violent effort, he tore his feet loose. He knew where he was now. Death Swamp and its quicksand.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>His hands were tight closed as if his nerve were something tangible that someone in the darkness was trying to tear from his grip. The softness of the earth had given him anidea. He stepped back from the quicksand a dozen feet or so and, like some huge prehistoric beaver, he began to dig.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"burmese-tiger-pit\">Burmese Tiger Pit<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford had dug himself in also in France when a second\u2019s delay meant death. That had been a placid pastime compared to his digging now. The pit grew deeper; when it was above his shoulders, he climbed out and from some hard saplings cut stakes and sharpened them to a fine point. These stakes he planted in the bottom of the pit with the points sticking up. With flying fingers he wove a rough carpet of weeds and branches and with it he covered the mouth of the pit. Then, wet with sweat and aching with tiredness, he crouched behind the stump of a lightning-charred tree.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He knew his pursuer was coming; he heard the padding sound of feet on the soft earth, and the night breeze brought him the perfume of the general\u2019s cigarette. It seemed to Rainsford that the general was coming with unusual swiftness; he was not feeling his way along, foot by foot. Rainsford, crouching there, could not see the general, nor could he see the pit. He lived a year in a minute. Then he felt an impulse to cry aloud with joy, for he heard the sharp crackle of the breaking branches as the cover of the pit gave way; he heard the sharp scream of pain as the pointed stakes found their mark. He leaped up from his place of concealment. But t he cowered back. Three feet from the pit a man was standing, with an electric torch in his hand.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019ve done well, Rainsford,\u201d the voice of the general called. \u201cYour Burmese tiger pit has claimed one of my best dogs. Again you score. I think, Mr. Rainsford, I&#8217;ll see what you can do against my whole pack. I\u2019m going home for a rest now. Thank you for a most amusing evening.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>At daybreak Rainsford, lying near the swamp, was awakened by a sound that made him know that he had new things to learn about fear.  Although it was a distant sound, faint and wavering, he knew it. It was the baying of a pack of hounds.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"wild-chance\">Wild chance<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford knew he could do one of two things. He could stay where he was and wait.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>That was suicide. He could flee. That was postponing the inevitable. For a moment he stood there, thinking. An idea that held a wild chance came to him, and, tightening his belt, he headed away from the swamp.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The baying of the hounds drew nearer, then still nearer, nearer, ever nearer. On a ridge Rainsford climbed a tree. Down a watercourse, not a quarter of a mile away, he&nbsp;could see the bush moving. Straining his eyes, he saw the lean figure of General Zaroff; just ahead of him Rainsford made out another figure whose wide shoulders surged through the tall jungle weeds; it was the giant Ivan, and he seemed pulled forward by some unseen force; Rainsford knew that Ivan must be holding the pack in leash.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>They would be on him any minute now. His mind worked frantically. He thought of a native trick he had learned in Uganda. First he slid down the tree. Second he caught hold of a springy young sapling and to it he fastened his hunting knife, with the blade pointing down the trail; with a bit of wild grapevine he tied back the sapling. Third he ran for his life. The hounds raised their voices as they hit the fresh scent. Rainsford knew now how an animal at bay feels.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He had to stop to get his breath. The baying of the hounds stopped abruptly, and Rainsford\u2019s heart stopped too. They must have reached the knife.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He shinned excitedly up a tree and looked back. His pursuers had stopped. But the hope that was in Rainsford\u2019s brain when he climbed died, for he saw in the shallow valley that General Zaroff was still on his feet. But Ivan was not. The knife, driven by the recoil of the springing tree, had not wholly failed.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford had hardly tumbled to the ground when the pack took up the cry again.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNerve, nerve, nerve!\u201d he panted, as he dashed along. A blue gap showed between the trees dead ahead. Ever nearer drew the hounds. Rainsford forced himself on toward that gap. He reached it. It was the shore of the sea. Across a cove he could see the gloomy gray stone of the chateau. Twenty feet below him the sea rumbled and hissed. Rainsford hesitated. He heard the hounds. Then he leaped far out into the sea. . . .&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"better-luck\">Better luck&#8230;<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p>When the general and his pack reached the place by the sea, the Cossack stopped.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>For some minutes he stood regarding the blue-green expanse of water. He shrugged his shoulders. Then be sat down, took a drink of brandy from a silver flask, lit a cigarette, and hummed a bit from Madame Butterfly.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>General Zaroff had an exceedingly good dinner in his great paneled dining hall that evening. With it he had a bottle of Pol Roger and half a bottle of Chambertin. Two slight annoyances kept him from perfect enjoyment. One was the thought that it would be difficult to replace Ivan; the other was that his quarry had escaped him; of course, the American hadn\u2019t played the game&#8211;so thought the general as he tasted his after-dinner liqueur. In his library he read, to soothe himself, from the works of Marcus Aurelius. At ten he went up to his bedroom. He was deliciously tired, he said to himself, as he locked himself in. There was a little moonlight, so, before turning on his light, he went to the window and looked down at the courtyard. He could see the great hounds, and he called,&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBetter luck another time,\u201d to them. Then he switched on the light.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A man, who had been hiding in the curtains of the bed, was standing there.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cRainsford!\u201d screamed the general. \u201cHow in God\u2019s name did you get here?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSwam,\u201d said Rainsford. \u201cI found it quicker than walking through the jungle.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general sucked in his breath and smiled. \u201cI congratulate you,\u201d he said. \u201cYou have won the game.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Rainsford did not smile. \u201cI am still a beast at bay,\u201d he said, in a low, hoarse voice.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGet ready, General Zaroff.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The general made one of his deepest bows. \u201cI see,\u201d he said. \u201cSplendid! One of us is to furnish a repast for the hounds. The other will sleep in this very excellent bed. On guard, Rainsford.\u201d . . .&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He had never slept in a better bed, Rainsford decided.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>Take a <code><a href=\"https:\/\/quizlet.com\/46335675\/the-most-dangerous-game-flash-cards\/\">quiz<\/a><\/code> about this story!<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>You might also like to check out the new television series, a Roku original, based more loosely on this story. The hunt is set in a contemporary city, we understand. <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-rich is-provider-embed-handler wp-block-embed-embed-handler\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\nhttps:\/\/shareasale.com\/r.cfm?b=1527778&amp;u=2142268&amp;m=94331&amp;urllink=&amp;afftrack=\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Click to follow a link to the attached video to view the classic film adaptation of this horror tale. by&nbsp;Richard Connell Ship-Trap Island \u201cOff there to the right&#8211;somewhere&#8211;is a large island,\u201d said Whitney. \u201cIt\u2019s rather a mystery&#8211;\u201d&nbsp; \u201cWhat island is it?\u201d Rainsford asked.&nbsp; \u201cThe old charts call it \u2018Ship-Trap Island\u2019,\u201d Whitney replied. \u201cA suggestive name, [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2408,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":true,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false,"_ti_tpc_template_sync":false,"_ti_tpc_template_id":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7,9],"tags":[],"yst_prominent_words":[196,1485,1489,1486,319,1492,1487,255,1494,147,145,1484,1491,325,1493,68,650,276,1488,1490],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9275"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9275"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9275\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11592,"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9275\/revisions\/11592"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2408"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9275"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9275"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9275"},{"taxonomy":"yst_prominent_words","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/captivatedchat.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/yst_prominent_words?post=9275"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}