the most dangerous game story by richard connell

Rainsford, reclining in a steamer chair, indolently puffed on his favorite brier. There was no sound in the night as Rainsford sat there but the muffled throb of the engine that drove the yacht swiftly through the darkness, and the swish and ripple of the wash of the propeller. 'I'm going to smoke another pipe up on the afterdeck.' Well, I think I'll turn in now, Rainsford.' Anyhow, I'm glad we're getting out of this zone. An evil place can, so to speak, broadcast vibrations of evil. Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing-with wave lengths, just as sound and light have.

But sometimes I think sailors have an extra sense that tells them when they are in danger. 'One superstitious sailor can taint the whole ship's company with his fear.' What I felt was a-a mental chill a sort of sudden dread.' The sea was as flat as a plate-glass window. Now, you mustn't laugh when I tell you this-I did feel something like a sudden chill. All I could get out of him was `This place has an evil name among seafaring men, sir.' Then he said to me, very gravely, `Don't you feel anything?'-as if the air about us was actually poisonous. Those fishy blue eyes held a look I never saw there before. 'Yes, even that tough-minded old Swede, who'd go up to the devil himself and ask him for a light. 'They were a bit strange, now you mention it. Didn't you notice that the crew's nerves seemed a bit jumpy today?' But it's gotten into sailor lore, somehow. Even cannibals wouldn't live in such a God-forsaken place. Do you think we've passed that island yet?'

The world is made up of two classes-the hunters and the huntees. 'This hot weather is making you soft, Whitney. 'Even so, I rather think they understand one thing-fear. 'Perhaps the jaguar does,' observed Whitney. 'You're a big-game hunter, not a philosopher. 'Don't talk rot, Whitney,' said Rainsford. 'The best sport in the world,' agreed Rainsford. We should have some good hunting up the Amazon. I hope the jaguar guns have come from Purdey's. 'It will be light enough in Rio,' promised Whitney. 'You've good eyes,' said Whitney, with a laugh,' and I've seen you pick off a moose moving in the brown fall bush at four hundred yards, but even you can't see four miles or so through a moonless Caribbean night.' 'Can't see it,' remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through the dank tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick warm blackness in upon the yacht. 'The old charts call it `Ship-Trap Island,'' Whitney replied.' A suggestive name, isn't it? Sailors have a curious dread of the place.

'OFF THERE to the right-somewhere-is a large island,' said Whitney.' It's rather a mystery-'

The most dangerous game story by richard connell