The Most Dangerous Game 12

The general smiled. “I had no wish to go to pieces,” he said. “I must dosomething. Now, mine is an analytical mind, Mr. Rainsford. Doubtlessthat is why I enjoy the problems of the chase.” “No doubt, General Zaroff.” “So,” continued the general, “I asked myself why the hunt no longerfascinated me. You are much younger than I am, Mr. Rainsford, and havenot hunted as much, but you perhaps can guess the answer.” “What was it?” “Simply this: hunting had ceased to be what you call `a sportingproposition.’ It had become too easy. I always got my quarry. Always.There is no greater bore than perfection.” The general lit a fresh cigarette. “No animal had a chance with me any more. That is no boast; it is amathematical certainty. The animal had nothing but his legs and hisinstinct. Instinct is no match for reason. When I thought of this it wasa tragic moment for me, I can tell you.” Rainsford leaned across the table, absorbed in what his host was saying. “It came to me as an inspiration what I must do,” the general went on.  “And that was?” The general smiled the quiet smile of one who has faced an obstacle andsurmounted it with success. “I had to invent a new animal to hunt,” he said. “A new animal? You’re joking.”  “Not at all,” said the general. “I never