Most dangerous game richard cornell

I treat these visitors with every consideration. They get plenty of good food and exercise. They get into splendid physical condition. You shall see for yourself tomorrow. I have about a dozen pupils down there now.

They're from the Spanish bark San Lucar that had the bad luck to go on the rocks out there. A very inferior lot, I regret to say. Poor specimens and more accustomed to the deck than to the jungle.

Rainsford, with an effort, held his tongue in check. I give him a supply of food and an excellent hunting knife. I give him three hours' start. I am to follow, armed only with a pistol of the smallest caliber and range. If my quarry eludes me for three whole days, he wins the game. If I find him "--the general smiled--" he loses. He need not play that game if he doesn't wish to.

If he does not wish to hunt, I turn him over to Ivan. Ivan once had the honor of serving as official knouter to the Great White Czar, and he has his own ideas of sport. Invariably, Mr. Rainsford, invariably they choose the hunt. The smile on the general's face widened. Then he added, hastily: "I don't wish you to think me a braggart, Mr. Many of them afford only the most elementary sort of problem.

Occasionally I strike a tartar. One almost did win. I eventually had to use the dogs. The general steered Rainsford to a window. The lights from the windows sent a flickering illumination that made grotesque patterns on the courtyard below, and Rainsford could see moving about there a dozen or so huge black shapes; as they turned toward him, their eyes glittered greenly.

If anyone should try to get into my house--or out of it--something extremely regrettable would occur to him. Will you come with me to the library? I'm really not feeling well. You need a good, restful night's sleep. Tomorrow you'll feel like a new man, I'll wager. Then we'll hunt, eh? I've one rather promising prospect--" Rainsford was hurrying from the room.

He looks resourceful--Well, good night, Mr. Rainsford; I hope you have a good night's rest. The bed was good, and the pajamas of the softest silk, and he was tired in every fiber of his being, but nevertheless Rainsford could not quiet his brain with the opiate of sleep.

He lay, eyes wide open. Once he thought he heard stealthy steps in the corridor outside his room. He sought to throw open the door; it would not open. He went to the window and looked out. His room was high up in one of the towers. The lights of the chateau were out now, and it was dark and silent; but there was a fragment of sallow moon, and by its wan light he could see, dimly, the courtyard.

There, weaving in and out in the pattern of shadow, were black, noiseless forms; the hounds heard him at the window and looked up, expectantly, with their green eyes. Rainsford went back to the bed and lay down. By many methods he tried to put himself to sleep. He had achieved a doze when, just as morning began to come, he heard, far off in the jungle, the faint report of a pistol. General Zaroff did not appear until luncheon.

He was dressed faultlessly in the tweeds of a country squire. He was solicitous about the state of Rainsford's health. I am worried, Mr. Last night I detected traces of my old complaint. Then, taking a second helping of crepes Suzette, the general explained: "The hunting was not good last night.

The fellow lost his head. He made a straight trail that offered no problems at all. That's the trouble with these sailors; they have dull brains to begin with, and they do not know how to get about in the woods. They do excessively stupid and obvious things. It's most annoying. Will you have another glass of Chablis, Mr. The general raised his thickets of eyebrows; he seemed hurt. You've had no hunting--".

He saw the dead black eyes of the general on him, studying him. General Zaroff's face suddenly brightened. The general shrugged his shoulders and delicately ate a hothouse grape. But may I not venture to suggest that you will find my idea of sport more diverting than Ivan's? He nodded toward the corner to where the giant stood, scowling, his thick arms crossed on his hogshead of chest.

This is really an inspiration. I drink to a foeman worthy of my steel--at last. Your woodcraft against mine. Your strength and stamina against mine. Outdoor chess!

And the stake is not without value, eh? Of course you, in turn, must agree to say nothing of your visit here. Three days hence we can discuss it over a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, unless--".

Then a businesslike air animated him. I suggest you wear moccasins; they leave a poorer trail. I suggest, too, that you avoid the big swamp in the southeast corner of the island. We call it Death Swamp.

There's quicksand there. One foolish fellow tried it. The deplorable part of it was that Lazarus followed him. You can imagine my feelings, Mr. I loved Lazarus; he was the finest hound in my pack. Well, I must beg you to excuse me now. I always take a siesta after lunch. You'll hardly have time for a nap, I fear. You'll want to start, no doubt. I shall not follow till dusk.

Hunting at night is so much more exciting than by day, don't you think? Au revoir, Mr. Rainsford, au revoir. From another door came Ivan. Under one arm he carried khaki hunting clothes, a haversack of food, a leather sheath containing a long-bladed hunting knife; his right hand rested on a cocked revolver thrust in the crimson sash about his waist.

Rainsford had fought his way through the bush for two hours. I must keep my nerve," he said through tight teeth. He had not been entirely clearheaded when the chateau gates snapped shut behind him. His whole idea at first was to put distance between himself and General Zaroff; and, to this end, he had plunged along, spurred on by the sharp rowers of something very like panic.

Now he had got a grip on himself, had stopped, and was taking stock of himself and the situation. He saw that straight flight was futile; inevitably it would bring him face to face with the sea. He was in a picture with a frame of water, and his operations, clearly, must take place within that frame. He executed a series of intricate loops; he doubled on his trail again and again, recalling all the lore of the fox hunt, and all the dodges of the fox.

Night found him leg-weary, with hands and face lashed by the branches, on a thickly wooded ridge. He knew it would be insane to blunder on through the dark, even if he had the strength. His need for rest was imperative and he thought, "I have played the fox, now I must play the cat of the fable.

Rest brought him new confidence and almost a feeling of security. Even so zealous a hunter as General Zaroff could not trace him there, he told himself; only the devil himself could follow that complicated trail through the jungle after dark.

But perhaps the general was a devil An apprehensive night crawled slowly by like a wounded snake and sleep did not visit Rainsford, although the silence of a dead world was on the jungle.

Toward morning when a dingy gray was varnishing the sky, the cry of some startled bird focused Rainsford's attention in that direction. Something was coming through the bush, coming slowly, carefully, coming by the same winding way Rainsford had come.

He flattened himself down on the limb and, through a screen of leaves almost as thick as tapestry, he watched. That which was approaching was a man. It was General Zaroff. He made his way along with his eyes fixed in utmost concentration on the ground before him.

He paused, almost beneath the tree, dropped to his knees and studied the ground. Rainsford's impulse was to hurl himself down like a panther, but he saw that the general's right hand held something metallic--a small automatic pistol. The hunter shook his head several times, as if he were puzzled.

Then he straightened up and took from his case one of his black cigarettes; its pungent incenselike smoke floated up to Rainsford's nostrils. Rainsford held his breath. The general's eyes had left the ground and were traveling inch by inch up the tree. Rainsford froze there, every muscle tensed for a spring. But the sharp eyes of the hunter stopped before they reached the limb where Rainsford lay; a smile spread over his brown face. Very deliberately he blew a smoke ring into the air; then he turned his back on the tree and walked carelessly away, back along the trail he had come.

The swish of the underbrush against his hunting boots grew fainter and fainter. The pent-up air burst hotly from Rainsford's lungs.

His first thought made him feel sick and numb. The general could follow a trail through the woods at night; he could follow an extremely difficult trail; he must have uncanny powers; only by the merest chance had the Cossack failed to see his quarry. Rainsford's second thought was even more terrible. It sent a shudder of cold horror through his whole being. Why had the general smiled? Why had he turned back? Rainsford did not want to believe what his reason told him was true, but the truth was as evident as the sun that had by now pushed through the morning mists.

The general was playing with him! The general was saving him for another day's sport! The Cossack was the cat; he was the mouse. Then it was that Rainsford knew the full meaning of terror. He slid down from the tree, and struck off again into the woods. His face was set and he forced the machinery of his mind to function.

Three hundred yards from his hiding place he stopped where a huge dead tree leaned precariously on a smaller, living one. Throwing off his sack of food, Rainsford took his knife from its sheath and began to work with all his energy.

The job was finished at last, and he threw himself down behind a fallen log a hundred feet away. He did not have to wait long. The cat was coming again to play with the mouse. Following the trail with the sureness of a bloodhound came General Zaroff. Nothing escaped those searching black eyes, no crushed blade of grass, no bent twig, no mark, no matter how faint, in the moss.

So intent was the Cossack on his stalking that he was upon the thing Rainsford had made before he saw it. His foot touched the protruding bough that was the trigger. Even as he touched it, the general sensed his danger and leaped back with the agility of an ape. But he was not quite quick enough; the dead tree, delicately adjusted to rest on the cut living one, crashed down and struck the general a glancing blow on the shoulder as it fell; but for his alertness, he must have been smashed beneath it.

He staggered, but he did not fall; nor did he drop his revolver. He stood there, rubbing his injured shoulder, and Rainsford, with fear again gripping his heart, heard the general's mocking laugh ring through the jungle.

Not many men know how to make a Malay mancatcher. Luckily for me I, too, have hunted in Malacca. You are proving interesting, Mr.

I am going now to have my wound dressed; it's only a slight one. But I shall be back. I shall be back. Get A Copy. Paperback , 48 pages. More Details Original Title. Other Editions Friend Reviews.

To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. To ask other readers questions about The Most Dangerous Game , please sign up. Kyrstyn Hartman I read it grade 8 and absolutely adored it, I couldn't put it down, we could finish the last few pages as the bell rang but I couldn't wait for the ne …more I read it grade 8 and absolutely adored it, I couldn't put it down, we could finish the last few pages as the bell rang but I couldn't wait for the next day to finish it.

I was confuse in the end. Why didn't Rainsford just find a boat and leave the island after he killed Zaroff? Why he slept on Zaroff's bed instead of his own April Rainsford sleeping in Zaroff's bed signifies victory. He has finally defeated the general, and so Rainsford takes his position of luxury.

See all 18 questions about The Most Dangerous Game…. Lists with This Book. Community Reviews. Showing Average rating 3. Rating details. More filters. Sort order. Start your review of The Most Dangerous Game.

May 29, Stephen rated it really liked it Shelves: ebooks , thriller , classics , literature , , survival , audiobook , classics-americas , short-fiction.

None of them could act their way out of a puff of smoke. All of the above. Yes, it was an easy, soft ball of a question; the correct answer is 4. Therefore, I will be brief, like Kim Kardashian's marriage. Big game hunting expert and luminary, Sanger Rainsford, falls off his yacht in the Caribbean and winds up on the island of Dr. Moreau General Zaroff and his towering, gigantinormous Cossack servant Ivan.

General Zaroff, a fellow hunter and admirer of Rainsford has grown bored with the ease of murdering even the most dangerous of big game. Removing his moral compass and setting it behind the glass of rationalization never to be touched again, the General has cured his malaise by tracking and hunting soylent green people. Next target…. He could have been content to portray Zaroff as a one-dimensional, cardboard sociopath, but Connell gives the general depth and a backstory.

He is cold, detached and brutal but he is also well educated, polite and a rugged class of gentlemen who has, if not a sense of honor, at least a sense of good sportsmanship.

All of this simply makes Zaroff appear more diabolical. Rainsford for his part is tough, clever and competent and provides a suitable counter-point to Zaroff in the tale. He is a more than worthy adversary for the General. Oh, and I loved the ending of the story.

I thought it was appropriate and subtle and perfectly in keeping with the tone of the story. To put a line at the bottom of this review, this is a classic short story that merits the title and is one that I would politely impel people to peruse if they have not done so. View all 61 comments. Its reputation is well deserved, as Connell grabs the reader instantly and spins a tale that while exciting, has broader implications than a simple adventure tale.

It is probably most famous today due to the film starring Joel McCrea and Fay Wray, which was shot around the same time as King Kong and used many of the same sets. Connell's short story, while not having the feminine character or her brother, is equally atmospheric, and terribly exciting. Big Game hunter and writer Sanger Rainsford and his friend Whitney are aboard a yacht somewhere in the Caribbean, on their way to Brazil to hunt jaguars.

There is talk of a nervous crew as they pass Ship-Trap Island, a mysterious place the sailors dread. The talk of Rainsford and Whitney turns to the hunt, and it is this conversation between the two men about what the jaguar does or does not feel while being stalked that lies at the heart of this tale.

Shots are fired, and in an effort to discover what is happening on deck, Sanger falls overboard, making a harrowing escape to said island. There he discovers not madness, but the ultimate extension of himself.

Sanger, General Zaroff, and his towering right-hand man, Ivan, are memorable in this thrilling tale of adventure which also ponders larger questions. But he was also a journalist and screenwriter. Despite its age, this tale feels timeless, and is near perfect. On the technical side, there are a few typos in the transfer to Kindle, but rare, so not too distracting.

A thrilling story everyone who loves the short story form should read. Marvelous stuff. View all 21 comments. Oct 06, Ahmad Sharabiani rated it really liked it Shelves: 20th-century , classics , short-stories , young-adult , literature , adventure , fiction , horror , united-states.

The story features a big-game hunter from New York City who falls off a yacht and swims to what seems to be an abandoned and isolated island in the Caribbean, where he is hunted by a Russian aristocrat. The story is inspired by the big-game hunting safaris in Africa and South America that were particularly fashionable among wealthy Americans in the 's.

Sanger Rainsford and his friend, Whitney, were traveling to the Amazon rain forest to hunt the region's big cat: the jaguar.

After a discussion about how they are "the hunters" instead of "the hunted", Whitney goes to bed and Rainsford hears gunshots. He climbs onto the yacht's rail and accidentally falls overboard, swimming to Ship-Trap Island, which is notorious for shipwrecks. On the island, he finds a palatial chateau inhabited by two Cossacks: the owner, General Zaroff, and his gigantic deaf-mute servant, Ivan. Zaroff, another big-game hunter, knows of Rainsford from his published account of hunting snow leopards in Tibet.

After inviting him to dinner, General Zaroff tells Rainsford he is bored of hunting because it no longer challenges him; he has moved to Ship-Trap in order to capture shipwrecked sailors.

Any captives who can elude Zaroff, Ivan, and a pack of hunting dogs for three days are set free. Zaroff reveals that no one has lasted that long, although a couple of sailors had come close. Zaroff also says that he offers sailors a "choice"; should they decline to be hunted they will be handed over to Ivan, who had once been official kn-outer for The Great White Czar. Rainsford denounces this as barbarism. Zaroff reacts in a cosmopolitan manner that "life is for the strong".

Realizing he has no way out, Rainsford reluctantly agrees to be hunted. View 1 comment. Shelves: mystery-crime-thriller , kindle , aa , freebies , read-story-article , storypp. Sailors have a curious dread of the place. I don't know why. Who needs a whole novel? Who needs The Hunger Games? Whitney comments. Great sport, hunting.

Who cares how a jaguar feels? They've no understanding. The fear of pain and the fear of death. Be a realist. The world is made up of two classes—the hunters and the huntees.

Luckily, you and I are hunters. Do you think we've passed that island yet? Whitney goes below to turn in for the night while Rainsford enjoys a smoke of his favourite pipe on deck.

When the pipe falls overboard. I read it years ago and was reminded of it just today. Hope you enjoy it, too! View all 14 comments. Jul 24, Duane rated it really liked it Shelves: horror , book-challenge , reviewed-books , greatest-short-stories , short-stories , american-classics , rated-books.

A man accidentally falls off a yacht at night, luckily or unluckily close to an ominous, dark island. He soon discovers it is inhabited by a Russian big game hunter who has become bored with his easy success, and has now taken up hunting Man as it proves to be a bigger, more entertaining challenge.

Very well written and certainly deserves it's inclusion in the "50 greatest short stories" list. View 2 comments. The sensuous drowsiness of the night was on him. A game of life and death! The theme of this published short story is the Hunter vs the Hunted. View all 4 comments. A very short classic story published in Regardless of the length, I don't think I have been more scared by any book.

The story begins as 2 friends, skilled big game hunters, are sailing in the Caribbean on their way to hunt jaguar along the Amazon River. However, as the General triggered it he leaped back and only damaged his shoulder. This is an example of one of the many man versus man conflicts in this story. The General went back to dress his wound.

Rainsford pressed on through the jungle. As he stepped forward his foot sunk into the ground. He began to dig his way out. When the pit was deep enough he climbed out. As soon as he got out he began sharpening stakes from near by saplings. He put the stakes at the bottom of the pit and covered it with brush.

Not long after he heard the sound of the branches give way. He heard the sharp scream of pain as the pointed stakes found their mark. Said the General. Zaroff went back to get the rest of his hounds. The mood in this story is suspenseful. Connell uses elaborate detail, slowly capturing his audience in an intense drama. On the third day Rainsford awakens to the faint sound of the baying put off by the hounds. The sound of the hounds grew nearer, then still nearer.

Rainsford climbed a tree to get a better look. He could make out the lean figure of General Zaroff in the distance. They would be on him any minute now. Struggling for ideas Rainsford remembers a native trick he had learned in Uganda. He fastened his knife to a springy sapling and with a piece of wild grapevine he tied it back. Then he ran for his life. Rainsford came to a gap between the trees.

Twenty feet below him the sea rumbled and hissed. Rainsford leaped far out into the sea. This is the climax of the story. General Zaroff, returning home empty handed, had an exceedingly good dinner in his great paneled dinning hall that evening. From here on the story resolutely resolved. Zaroff went up to his room to soothe himself by reading. He went to the window and wished his hounds better luck another time, then switched off the light. Hiding in the bed curtains was Rainsford.

Said Rainsford. The General sucked in his breath and smiled.