"The Most Dangerous Game"

Sailors have a curious dread of the place.

Some superstition--"

"Can't see it," remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through the dank tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick warm blackness in upon the yacht.

"Can't see it," remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through the dank tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick warm blackness in upon the yacht.

"For the hunter," amended Whitney.

"You're a big-game hunter, not a philosopher.

"Nonsense," laughed Rainsford.

"The place has a reputation--a bad one."

Even cannibals wouldn't live in such a God-forsaken place.

But it's gotten into sailor lore, somehow.

"One superstitious sailor can taint the whole ship's company with his fear."

"One superstitious sailor can taint the whole ship's company with his fear."

Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing--with wave lengths, just as sound and light have.

An evil place can, so to speak, broadcast vibrations of evil.

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.

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.

The sensuous drowsiness of the night was on him."

An abrupt sound startled him.

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 leaped upon the rail and balanced himself there, to get greater elevation; his pipe, striking a rope, was knocked from his mouth.

Desperately he struck out with strong strokes after the receding lights of the yacht, but he stopped before he had swum fifty feet.

They had come from the right, and doggedly he swam in that direction, swimming with slow, deliberate strokes, conserving his strength.

He did not recognize the animal that made the sound; he did not try to; with fresh vitality he swam toward the sound.

"Pistol shot," muttered Rainsford, swimming on.

Jagged crags appeared to jut up into the opaqueness; he forced himself upward, hand over hand.

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.

An unbroken front of snarled and ragged jungle fringed the shore.

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.

Some wounded thing--by the evidence, a large animal--had thrashed about in the underbrush; the jungle weeds were crushed down and the moss was lacerated; one patch of weeds was stained crimson.

Some wounded thing--by the evidence, a large animal--had thrashed about in the underbrush; the jungle weeds were crushed down and the moss was lacerated; one patch of weeds was stained crimson.

Some wounded thing--by the evidence, a large animal--had thrashed about in the underbrush; the jungle weeds were crushed down and the moss was lacerated; one patch of weeds was stained crimson.

I suppose the first three shots I heard was when the hunter flushed his quarry and wounded it.

Bleak darkness was blacking out the sea and jungle when Rainsford sighted the lights.

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.

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.

"Mirage," thought Rainsford.

The stone steps were real enough; the massive door with a leering gargoyle for a knocker was real enough; yet above it all hung an air of unreality.

The stone steps were real enough; the massive door with a leering gargoyle for a knocker was real enough; yet above it all hung an air of unreality.

The first thing Rainsford's eyes discerned was the largest man Rainsford had ever seen--a gigantic creature, solidly made and black bearded to the waist.

Rainsford's first impression was that the man was singularly handsome; his second was that there was an original, almost bizarre quality about the general's face.

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.

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.

Please forgive any lapses.

He was finding the general a most thoughtful and affable host, a true cosmopolite.

"Hurled me against a tree," said the general.