The Most Dangerous Game 26

Following the trail with the sureness of a bloodhound came GeneralZaroff. Nothing escaped those searching black eyes, no crushed blade ofgrass, no bent twig, no mark, no matter how faint, in the moss. Sointent was the Cossack on his stalking that he was upon the thingRainsford had made before he saw it. His foot touched the protrudingbough that was the trigger. Even as he touched it, the general sensedhis danger and leaped back with the agility of an ape. But he was notquite quick enough; the dead tree, delicately adjusted to rest on thecut living one, crashed down and struck the general a glancing blow onthe shoulder as it fell; but for his alertness, he must have beensmashed beneath it. He staggered, but he did not fall; nor did he drophis revolver. He stood there, rubbing his injured shoulder, andRainsford, with fear again gripping his heart, heard the general’smocking laugh ring through the jungle. “Rainsford,” called the general, “if you are within sound of my voice,as I suppose you are, let me congratulate you. Not many men know how tomake a Malay mancatcher. Luckily for me I, too, have hunted in Malacca.You are proving interesting, Mr. Rainsford. I am going now to have mywound dressed; it’s only a slight one. But I shall be back. I shall beback.” When the general, nursing his bruised shoulder, had gone, Rainsford tookup his flight again. It was flight now, a desperate, hopeless flight,that carried him on for some hours. Dusk came, then darkness, and stillhe pressed on. The ground grew softer under his moccasins; thevegetation grew ranker, denser; insects bit him savagely.