"Ivan is an incredibly strong fellow," remarked the general, "but he has the
misfortune to be deaf and dumb. A simple fellow, but, I'm afraid, like all his race, a bit of
a savage."
"Is he Russian?"
"He is a Cossack," said the general, and his smile showed red lips and pointed teeth.
"So am I."
"Come," he said, "we shouldn't be chatting here. We can talk later. Now you want
clothes, food, rest. You shall have them. This is a most-restful spot."
Ivan had reappeared, and the general spoke to him with lips that moved but gave
forth no sound.
"Follow Ivan, if you please, Mr. Rainsford," said the general. "I was about to have
my dinner when you came. I'll wait for you. You'll find that my clothes will fit you, I
think."
It was to a huge, beam-ceilinged bedroom with a canopied bed big enough for six
men that Rainsford followed the silent giant. Ivan laid out an evening suit, and Rainsford,
as he put it on, noticed that it came from a London tailor who ordinarily cut and sewed
for none below the rank of duke.
The dining room to which Ivan conducted him was in many ways remarkable. There
was a medieval magnificence about it; it suggested a baronial hall of feudal times with its
oaken panels, its high ceiling, its vast refectory tables where twoscore men could sit
down to eat. About the hall were mounted heads of many animals--lions, tigers,
elephants, moose, bears; larger or more perfect specimens Rainsford had never seen. At
the great table the general was sitting, alone.
"You'll have a cocktail, Mr. Rainsford," he suggested. The cocktail was surpassingly
good; and, Rainsford noted, the table appointments were of the finest--the linen, the
crystal, the silver, the china.
They were eating borsch, the rich, red soup with whipped cream so dear to Russian
palates. Half apologetically General Zaroff said, "We do our best to preserve the
amenities of civilization here. Please forgive any lapses. We are well off the beaten track,
you know. Do you think the champagne has suffered from its long ocean trip?"
"Not in the least," declared Rainsford. He was finding the general a most thoughtful
and affable host, a true cosmopolite. But there was one small trait of .the general's that
made Rainsford uncomfortable. Whenever he looked up from his plate he found the
general studying him, appraising him narrowly.
"Perhaps," said General Zaroff, "you were surprised that I recognized your name.
You see, I read all books on hunting published in English, French, and Russian. I have
but one passion in my life, Mr. Rainsford, and it is the hunt."
"You have some wonderful heads here," said Rainsford as he ate a particularly wellcooked filet mignon. " That Cape buffalo is the largest I ever saw."
"Oh, that fellow. Yes, he was a monster."
"Did he charge you?"
"Hurled me against a tree," said the general. "Fractured my skull. But I got the
brute."
"I've always thought," said Rainsford, "that the Cape buffalo is the most dangerous
of all big game." For a moment the general did not reply; he was smiling his curious red-lipped smile.
Then he said slowly, "No. You are wrong, sir. The Cape buffalo is not the most
dangerous big game." He sipped his wine. "Here in my preserve on this island," he said
in the same slow tone, "I hunt more dangerous game."
Rainsford expressed his surprise. "Is there big game on this island?"
The general nodded. "The biggest."
"Really?"
"Oh, it isn't here naturally, of course. I have to stock the island."
"What have you imported, general?" Rainsford asked. "Tigers?"
The general smiled. "No," he said. "Hunting tigers ceased to interest me some years
ago. I exhausted their possibilities, you see. No thrill left in tigers, no real danger. I live
for danger, Mr. Rainsford."
The general took from his pocket a gold cigarette case and offered his guest a long
black cigarette with a silver tip; it was perfumed and gave off a smell like incense.
"We will have some capital hunting, you and I," said the general. "I shall be most
glad to have your society."
"But what game--" began Rainsford.
"I'll tell you," said the general. "You will be amused, I know. I think I may say, in
all modesty, that I have done a rare thing. I have invented a new sensation. May I pour
you another glass of port?"
"Thank you, general."
The general filled both glasses, and said, "God makes some men poets. Some He
makes kings, some beggars. Me He made a hunter. My hand was made for the trigger, my
father said. He was a very rich man with a quarter of a million acres in the Crimea, and
he was an ardent sportsman. When I was only five years old he gave me a little gun,
specially made in Moscow for me, to shoot sparrows with. When I shot some of his prize
turkeys with it, he did not punish me; he complimented me on my marksmanship. I killed
my first bear in the Caucasus when I was ten. My whole life has been one prolonged
hunt. I went into the army--it was expected of noblemen's sons--and for a time
commanded a division of Cossack cavalry, but my real interest was always the hunt. I
have hunted every kind of game in every land. It would be impossible for me to tell you
how many animals I have killed."
The general puffed at his cigarette.
"After the debacle in Russia I left the country, for it was imprudent for an officer of
the Czar to stay there. Many noble Russians lost everything. I, luckily, had invested
heavily in American securities, so I shall never have to open a tearoom in Monte Carlo or
drive a taxi in Paris. Naturally, I continued to hunt--grizzliest in your Rockies, crocodiles
in the Ganges, rhinoceroses in East Africa. It was in Africa that the Cape buffalo hit me
and laid me up for six months. As soon as I recovered I started for the Amazon to hunt
jaguars, for I had heard they were unusually cunning. They weren't." The Cossack
sighed. "They were no match at all for a hunter with his wits about him, and a highpowered rifle. I was bitterly disappointed. I was lying in my tent with a splitting headache
one night when a terrible thought pushed its way into my mind. Hunting was beginning to
bore me! And hunting, remember, had been my life. I have heard that in America
businessmen often go to pieces when they give up the business that has been their life."
"Yes, that's so," said Rainsford The general smiled. "I had no wish to go to pieces," he said. "I must do something.
Now, mine is an analytical mind, Mr. Rainsford. Doubtless that is why I enjoy the
problems of the chase."
"No doubt, General Zaroff."
"So," continued the general, "I asked myself why the hunt no longer fascinated me.
You are much younger than I am, Mr. Rainsford, and have not hunted as much, but you
perhaps can guess the answer."
"What was it?"
"Simply this: hunting had ceased to be what you call `a sporting proposition.' 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 a mathematical
certainty. The animal had nothing but his legs and his instinct. Instinct is no match for
reason. When I thought of this it was a 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 and surmounted
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 joke about
hunting. I needed a new animal. I found one. So I bought this island built this house, and
here I do my hunting. The island is perfect for my purposes--there are jungles with a
maze of traits in them, hills, swamps--"
"But the animal, General Zaroff?"
"Oh," said the general, "it supplies me with the most exciting hunting in the world.
No other hunting compares with it for an instant. Every day I hunt, and I never grow
bored now, for I have a quarry with which I can match my wits."
Rainsford's bewilderment showed in his face.
"I wanted the ideal animal to hunt," explained the general. "So I said, `What are the
attributes of an ideal quarry?' And the answer was, of course, `It must have courage,
cunning, and, above all, it must be able to reason."'
"But no animal can reason," objected Rainsford.
"My dear fellow," said the general, "there is one that can."
"But you can't mean--" gasped Rainsford.
"And why not?"
"I can't believe you are serious, General Zaroff. This is a grisly joke."
"Why should I not be serious? I am speaking of hunting."
"Hunting? Great Guns, General Zaroff, what you speak of is murder."
The general laughed with entire good nature. He regarded Rainsford quizzically. "I
refuse to believe that so modern and civilized a young man as you seem to be harbors
romantic ideas about the value of human life. Surely your experiences in the war--"
"Did not make me condone cold-blooded murder," finished Rainsford stiffly.
Laughter shook the general. "How extraordinarily droll you are!" he said. "One does
not expect nowadays to find a young man of the educated class, even in America, with
such a naive, and, if I may say so, mid-Victorian point of view. It's like finding a snuffbox in a limousine. Ah, well, doubtless you had Puritan ancestors. So many
Americans appear to have had. I'll wager you'll forget your notions when you go hunting
with me. You've a genuine new thrill in store for you, Mr. Rainsford."
"Thank you, I'm a hunter, not a murderer."
"Dear me," said the general, quite unruffled, "again that unpleasant word. But I think
I can show you that your scruples are quite ill founded."
"Yes?"
"Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and, if needs be, taken by the strong.
The weak of the world were put here to give the strong pleasure. I am strong. Why should
I not use my gift? If I wish to hunt, why should I not? I hunt the scum of the earth: sailors
from tramp ships--lassars, blacks, Chinese, whites, mongrels--a thoroughbred horse or
hound is worth more than a score of them."
"But they are men," said Rainsford hotly.
"Precisely," said the general. "That is why I use them. It gives me pleasure. They can
reason, after a fashion. So they are dangerous."
"But where do you get them?"
The general's left eyelid fluttered down in a wink. "This island is called Ship Trap,"
he answered. "Sometimes an angry god of the high seas sends them to me. Sometimes,
when Providence is not so kind, I help Providence a bit. Come to the window with me."
Rainsford went to the window and looked out toward the sea.
"Watch! Out there!" exclaimed the general, pointing into the night. Rainsford's eyes
saw only blackness, and then, as the general pressed a button, far out to sea Rainsford
saw the flash of lights.
The general chuckled. "They indicate a channel," he said, "where there's none; giant
rocks with razor edges crouch like a sea monster with wide-open jaws. They can crush a
ship as easily as I crush this nut." He dropped a walnut on the hardwood floor and
brought his heel grinding down on it. "Oh, yes," he said, casually, as if in answer to a
question, "I have electricity. We try to be civilized here."
"Civilized? And you shoot down men?"
A trace of anger was in the general's black eyes, but it was there for but a second;
and he said, in his most pleasant manner, "Dear me, what a righteous young man you are!
I assure you I do not do the thing you suggest. That would be barbarous. 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."
"What do you mean?"
"We'll visit my training school," smiled the general. "It's in the cellar. 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." He raised his hand, and Ivan, who
served as waiter, brought thick Turkish coffee. Rainsford, with an effort, held his tongue
in check.
"It's a game, you see," pursued the general blandly. "I suggest to one of them that we
go hunting. 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 lose "Suppose he refuses to be hunted?"
"Oh," said the general, "I give him his option, of course. 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."
"And if they win?"
The smile on the general's face widened. "To date I have not lost," he said. Then he
added, hastily: "I don't wish you to think me a braggart, Mr. Rainsford. 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 dogs?"
"This way, please. I'll show you."
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.
"A rather good lot, I think," observed the general. "They are let out at seven every
night. If anyone should try to get into my house--or out of it--something extremely
regrettable would occur to him." He hummed a snatch of song from the Folies Bergere.
"And now," said the general, "I want to show you my new collection of heads. Will
you come with me to the library?"
"I hope," said Rainsford, "that you will excuse me tonight, General Zaroff. I'm really
not feeling well."
"Ah, indeed?" the general inquired solicitously. "Well, I suppose that's only natural,
after your long swim. 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.
"Sorry you can't go with me tonight," called the general. "I expect rather fair sport--
a big, strong, black. 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.
"As for me," sighed the general, "I do not feel so well. I am worried, Mr. Rainsford.
Last night I detected traces of my old complaint."
To Rainsford's questioning glance the general said, "Ennui. Boredom."