The Most Dangerous Game 28

“You’ve done well, Rainsford,” the voice of the general called. “YourBurmese tiger pit has claimed one of my best dogs. Again you score. Ithink, Mr. Rainsford, Ill see what you can do against my whole pack. I’mgoing home for a rest now. Thank you for a most amusing evening.” At daybreak Rainsford, lying near the swamp, was awakened by a soundthat made him know that he had new things to learn about fear. It was adistant sound, faint and wavering, but he knew it. It was the baying ofa pack of hounds. Rainsford knew he could do one of two things. He could stay where he wasand wait. That was suicide. He could flee. That was postponing theinevitable. For a moment he stood there, thinking. An idea that held awild chance came to him, and, tightening his belt, he headed away fromthe swamp. The baying of the hounds drew nearer, then still nearer, nearer, evernearer. On a ridge Rainsford climbed a tree. Down a watercourse, not aquarter of a mile away, he could see the bush moving. Straining hiseyes, he saw the lean figure of General Zaroff; just ahead of himRainsford made out another figure whose wide shoulders surged throughthe tall jungle weeds; it was the giant Ivan, and he seemed pulledforward by some unseen force; Rainsford knew that Ivan must be holdingthe pack in leash.