The Most Dangerous Game 10

“You have some wonderful heads here,” said Rainsford as he ate aparticularly well-cooked filet mignon. “That Cape buffalo is thelargest I ever saw.” “Oh, that fellow. Yes, he was a monster.” “Did he charge you?” “Hurled me against a tree,” said the general. “Fractured my skull. But Igot the brute.” “I’ve always thought,” said Rains{ord, “that the Cape buffalo is themost dangerous of all big game.” For a moment the general did not reply; he was smiling his curiousred-lipped smile. Then he said slowly, “No. You are wrong, sir. The Capebuffalo is not the most dangerous big game.” He sipped his wine. “Herein my preserve on this island,” he said in the same slow tone, “I huntmore dangerous game.” Rainsford expressed his surprise. “Is there big game on this island?” The general nodded. “The biggest.” “Really?” “Oh, it isn’t here naturally, of course. I have to stock the island.” “What have you imported, general?” Rainsford asked. “Tigers?” The general smiled. “No,” he said. “Hunting tigers ceased to interest mesome years ago. I exhausted their possibilities, you see. No thrill leftin tigers, no real danger. I live for danger, Mr. Rainsford.” The general took from his pocket a gold cigarette case and offered hisguest a long black cigarette with a silver tip; it was perfumed and gaveoff a smell like incense. “We will have some capital hunting, you and I,” said the general. “Ishall be most glad to have your society.” “But what game–” began Rainsford. “I’ll tell you,” said the general. “You will be amused, I know. I thinkI may say, in all modesty, that I have done a rare thing. I haveinvented a new sensation. May I pour you another glass of port?” “Thank you, general.”