There was a little moonlight, so, before turning on his light, he went to the window and looked down at the courtyard. Next he sets a Burmese tiger pit, which kills one of Zaroff's hounds. At the great table the general was sitting, alone. Rainsford is the protagonist, or the main character of this story. Then, as he stepped forward, his foot sank into the ooze. I tried without success, and as time passed I began to believe that the Island owner was, perhaps, Conrad Veidt, this was the sort of persona he portrayed to me. Naturally, I continued to hunt--grizzlies in your Rockies, crocodiles in the Ganges, rhinoceroses in East Africa.
The cry was pinched off short as the blood-warm waters of the Caribbean Sea dosed over his head. Zaroff says Rainsford has beaten him and gives him the key to the boathouse, but Rainsford discovers him holding a gun behind his back. I'll wager you'll forget your notions when you go hunting with me. The plot concerns a on an island who hunts humans for sport. But there was one small trait of. Accepting the challenge, Zaroff says that the loser will be fed to the dogs, while the winner will sleep in his bed. 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.
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. A very inferior lot, I regret to say. To him, the life and death struggle is little more than a game and, while insulting Rainsford's morality, he asserts that his embrace of human killing for sport is very modern, even civilized. He comes to a patch of quicksand known as Death Swamp where he builds another trap. He's a drunk, lazy comic relief character whose only purpose is to display how Zaroff's game works and trigger the plot.
. 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. 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. 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. He is unaware that they are killers who hunt humans for sport, and that he is their new prey. 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. Rainsford then spends a comfortable night in Zaroff's bed, which raises the question of whether he will simply replace the evil Zaroff.
That was postponing the inevitable. The knife, driven by the recoil of the springing tree, had not wholly failed. Ivan dies as the result of one of Rainsford's traps. Zaroff went off then and established a new world for himself on a remote Caribbean island. You see, I read all books on hunting published in English, French, and Russian. The dining room to which Ivan conducted him was in many ways remarkable. I have about a dozen pupils down there now.
I'm going home for a rest now. These stakes he planted in the bottom of the pit with the points sticking up. Neilsen: Captain of the yacht taking Rainsford and Whitney to Brazil. But I think I can show you that your scruples are quite ill founded. He went to the window and looked out.
Rainsford decides to set a trap for Zaroff. Rainsford had fought his way through the bush for two hours. A small, glittering object not far away caught Rainsford's eye and he picked it up. No thrill left in tigers, no real danger. Rainsford realizes with horror that Zaroff actually hunts humans and wonders what happens if a man refuses to be hunted. I suppose the first three shots I heard was when the hunter flushed his quarry and wounded it. Instead, he hunts the ultimate trophy animal: man.
They must have reached the knife. Sometimes, when Providence is not so kind, I help Providence a bit. They're from the Spanish bark San Lucar that had the bad luck to go on the rocks out there. For a seemingly endless time he fought the sea. Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing--with wave lengths, just as sound and light have. So I bought this island built this house, and here I do my hunting.
Then Martin vanishes as well. She jumped out of bed, grabbed some clothes, tugged them on, and raced downstairs. 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. I have invented a new sensation. Three feet from the pit a man was standing, with an electric torch in his hand.