The Most Dangerous Game 11

The general filled both glasses, and said, “God makes some men poets.Some He makes kings, some beggars. Me He made a hunter. My hand was madefor the trigger, my father said. He was a very rich man with a quarterof a million acres in the Crimea, and he was an ardent sportsman. When Iwas only five years old he gave me a little gun, specially made inMoscow for me, to shoot sparrows with. When I shot some of his prizeturkeys with it, he did not punish me; he complimented me on mymarksmanship. I killed my first bear in the Caucasus when I was ten. Mywhole life has been one prolonged hunt. I went into the army–it wasexpected of noblemen’s sons–and for a time commanded a division ofCossack cavalry, but my real interest was always the hunt. I have huntedevery kind of game in every land. It would be impossible for me to tellyou how many animals I have killed.” The general puffed at his cigarette. “After the debacle in Russia I left the country, for it was imprudentfor an officer of the Czar to stay there. Many noble Russians losteverything. I, luckily, had invested heavily in American securities, soI shall never have to open a tearoom in Monte Carlo or drive a taxi inParis. Naturally, I continued to hunt–grizzliest in your Rockies,crocodiles in the Ganges, rhinoceroses in East Africa. It was in Africathat the Cape buffalo hit me and laid me up for six months. As soon as Irecovered I started for the Amazon to hunt jaguars, for I had heard theywere unusually cunning. They weren’t.” The Cossack sighed. “They were nomatch at all for a hunter with his wits about him, and a high-poweredrifle. I was bitterly disappointed. I was lying in my tent with asplitting headache one night when a terrible thought pushed its way intomy mind. Hunting was beginning to bore me! And hunting, remember, hadbeen my life. I have heard that in America businessmen often go topieces when they give up the business that has been their life.”  “Yes, that’s so,” said Rainsford.