Chapter 12 most dangerous game

"Somewhere to the right out of there, there's this huge island," Whitney said, "and it's a pretty magical..." "Which island?" asked Rainsford. "The old charts called it a ship's trap," replied Whitney. "It's a suggestive name, isn't it? Sailors are curiously terrified of that place. I don't know why. Some are superstitious." ..." "Can't see," Rainsford tried to see the island through the hot, humid night that enveloped the yacht in warm, thick darkness. "You have good eyesight," Whitney said, laughing. "I've seen you shoot a moose four hundred yards away in a yellow bush, but on a moonless Caribbean night, you can't even see it." to four feet away."

"Not four feet," admitted Rainsford. "Ah! It's like damp black velvet." "It's going to be a lot brighter in Rio," Whitney said, "and we'll be there in a few days. I hope the jaguar guns are out of Paddy's. We should have a good fight in the Amazon." Hunting for a few days. Hunting, what a sport." "The best sport in the world," agreed Rainsford. "For hunters," Whitney amended, "not for jaguars." "Don't talk nonsense, Whitney. You're a big gamer who can hunt, not a philosopher. Who cares what a jaguar feels like?"

"Maybe the jaguar cares." "Bah! They have no understanding." "Even so, I believe they understand one thing - fear, fear of pain and fear of death." "Nonsense," laughed Rainsford, "this heat melts you, Whitney. The world is made up of two classes—the hunter and the hunted. Fortunately, you and I are both Hunter. Do you think we passed the island?" "It's too dark for me to see. I hope so." "why?" "That place has a reputation—a bad reputation." "Cannibal?" "Almost. Even cannibals can't survive in such a God-forsaken place. But for some reason, the sailors care about this place. Have you noticed that the crew's nerves are a little bit tense today."

"They were a little odd then, and now you get to that. Even Captain Nelson." "Yes, even that strong-willed old Swede, who dared to deal with the devil. Those blue fish eyes looked like nothing I'd ever seen before. All I knew from him was That's: 'This place has a bad reputation among sailors, sir.' Then he'll say solemnly: 'Don't you feel something?' Oh, don't laugh, I feel a little cool, but there's no wind. I think Yes—it is not a cold of the flesh, but a fear." "Pure thought—," said Rainsford, "that a superstitious crewman can infect his fellow shipmates with his fear."

"Probably so. Sometimes I think the crew has a special ability that allows them to tell if they're in danger... Anyway, I'm glad I can bring it up. Oh, Rainsford , I'm going to bed." "I'm not sleepy yet. I'm going out on the back deck to smoke a pipe." Rainsford sat there in the silence of the night save for the muffled throb of the yacht's engine and the whoosh of the propeller. Rainsford leaned back in a chair, smoking his favorite briar pipe, and fell asleep. "It's so dark," he thought, "I can sleep without closing my eyes, the night will be my eyelids..."

Suddenly a voice woke him up.He heard the sound just to his right, and his ears were so good at it that it was impossible to mistake it.He heard the voice again, and then again.Somewhere in the darkness, someone fired three shots. Rainsford jumped up and ran to the fence in bewilderment.He tried to look in the direction of the sound, but it was like looking out through a blanket.He leaned against the fence, maintaining his balance, trying to lift himself up.His pipe fell from his mouth and hit a rope.He bent over to grab it, and immediately realized that he had moved too far and lost his balance, and a short, hoarse cry came from his lips.His cries were drowned out by the Caribbean waves just as his head was under the sea.

He struggled to surface, yelling, but the swell from the full-speed yacht washed his face, and the salt water rushed into his open mouth, choking him.In the yacht's taillights he beat the water desperately, but he stopped after only fifty feet.His mind calms down because this is not the first time he has been in such a tense situation.The chances that those on board could hear his cries grew slimmer, and grew slimmer as the yacht moved on.The lights of the ship dimmed and disappeared like fireflies, until they were completely swallowed up by the night. Rainsford remembered the shots.He swam tenaciously in the direction where the gunshots sounded, and he swam slowly, preserving his strength.He wrestled with the sea like there was no end to it.He started counting his strokes, he could probably swim a hundred more, and then—he heard a sound.From the darkness came a loud scream, the cry of an animal in agony and terror.He did not know what kind of animal it was that made the sound.His body was reinvigorated and he continued to swim towards it.He heard the sound again, then was cut off by another crisp.

"Someone's shooting," muttered Rainsford, swimming on. After ten minutes of determined effort, he heard the warmest welcome he had ever heard in his life, and he swam across the sea to the rocky shore.He was almost on top when he saw the shore.If it hadn't been for the sound of the sea crashing against the shore, he would have been smashed to pieces.With all his might he was freed from the current.Jagged cliffs appear in the night.Step by step, he worked hard to climb up.The skin frayed off his hands, and at last he was out of breath on a flat spot atop the cliff.The dense jungle spread to the edge of the cliff, and Rainsford knew only that he was exhausted and could not care about the rest. He threw himself on the ground and fell into a deep sleep, the most sound sleep he had ever had in his life. once.

When he opened his eyes, he knew from the position of the sun that it was afternoon.Sleep replenished his strength, and he felt very hungry now. "Where there are gunshots, there are people; where there are people, there is food." He thought, but through the dense network of grass and woods, he couldn't see a trace, and it was easier to get to the seaside Some.Not far from where he landed, he stopped. Something was wounded and fell in the grass under the trees, apparently a huge animal.Rainsford saw a small shiny object and he picked it up.It was an empty cartridge. "A twenty-two," he thought, "is a queer thing. Must be a pretty big animal, too. It's audacious for the hunter to bring a light gun against such an animal. Obviously the brute must have fought back." .I think the three shots I heard earlier must have been the hunter startling and wounding his prey. The last one was his pursuit here and killing it."

He scoured the nearby ground until he found what he was looking for: a hunter's boot print.They followed the cliff in the direction he had gone.He hastened to follow, for night was about to fall on the island. Darkness fell over the sea and the jungle before Rainsford saw the lights.He walked toward the lights and circled the shoreline, his first thought being that he had come to a village with many lights.But when he walked further, he saw that all the lights were on a building—it was a castle standing on a high cliff. "A mirage," thought Rainsford.But the stone steps were real, and he lifted the knocker, and it creaked harshly, as if no one had ever used it.

The door opened, revealing a ray of dazzling light.A tall man with a black beard reaching to his waist stood before Rainsford, holding a repeating revolver. "Don't panic," Rainsford said with a smile, hoping to disarm the other party's guard. "I'm not a robber. I fell overboard from a pleasure boat. I'm from New York, and my name is Sanger Ray." Ensford." That person didn't express anything, wondering if he understood what the other person said.The menacing revolver was aimed tenaciously, as if the giant were a statue. Another figure was coming down the broad marble steps, a slender, straight man in evening dress.He stepped forward and held out his hand. His courteous tone, with a slight accent that made him appear more careful and thoughtful, said: "It is a great pleasure and a great honor to welcome Mr Sanger Rainsford, the renowned hunter, into my home." Rainsford took the man's hand mechanically. "I've read your book about hunting snow leopards in Tibet," the man explained. "I'm General Zarov." Rainsford's first impression was that the man was very handsome, and his second impression was that there was a singular quality in his face.The general was a tall man past middle age, with gray hair, but black eyebrows and beard.His eyes were also black and bright.His face was that of a man who is used to giving orders.He turned to the man in uniform and gestured.The man put his pistol away, saluted, and retreated. "Ivan is unbelievably strong," commented the general, "but unfortunately he is deaf and dumb. He is a simple man, only a little savage." "Is he Russian?" "He's a Cossack," said the general, smiling from between his red lips and sharp teeth, "and so am I." "Come on," he said, "we're not supposed to be talking here. You need clothes, food, and rest. You've got to have these things. It's a wonderfully peaceful place." Ivan appeared again, and the general spoke to him a few words, his lips moved, but no sound came out. "Come with Ivan, if you like, Mr. Rainsford. I was going to supper, but I'll wait a moment. I think I'll suit you just fine." Rainsford followed the man into a huge bedroom with a large canopied bed big enough to sleep six.Ivan produced a nightgown, which Rainsford noticed as he put it on, was made by a London tailor. "Perhaps you will be surprised that I know your name," said the general as they sat eating in what seemed to be a feudal hall. "But I have read all the books on hunting, in English and French, In Russian. I have no other interest in life but hunting." "Nice heads of yours," said Rainsford, staring at the wall. "This South African black buffalo head is the biggest I've ever seen." "Oh, that thing? He got me, and threw me up a tree, and all my bones were broken. But I got the beast." "I've been thinking," Rainsford said, "that the South African black buffalo is the most dangerous of all big game." The general paused for a moment without answering, and then he said slowly, "No, the South African black buffalo is not the most dangerous." He took a sip of his wine, "In my territory on this island, I conduct more dangerous hunting." "Is there any big hunting on this island?" The general nodded, "The biggest." "Really?" "Oh, it's not native to this island, I have to buy it myself." "What game did you take, General? A tiger?" The General grinned, "No, tiger hunting doesn't appeal to me much since I've had them pretty much. Tigers don't make me tremble, and there's no real danger in it. I'm made for danger, Wren Sford." The general drew a gold cigarette case from his pocket, and offered his guest a long black cigar.Cigars with a silver band around them give off an incense-like aroma. "We shall have a wonderful hunt, you and I," said the general. "But what? . . . " said Rainsford. "Listen to me. You'll be happy, I know. I think I can say without exaggeration that I've done a rare thing. I've invented something new and sensational. Would you like another drink?" "Thank you, General." The general filled both cups and said, "God made some men poets, some kings, and some beggars. And he made me a hunter. But after happy After a few days, I found that hunting no longer appealed to me. You can perhaps guess why?" "No, why?" "Nothing else, hunting isn't the 'sport' you're talking about anymore. I've always been able to hunt my game, always, and there's nothing harder than perfection." The general lit another cigarette. "Animals have nothing but legs and instincts. And instinct is not a contest of intelligence. When I realized that, I felt very miserable." Rainsford leaned back on the table, listening intently to what his master had to say. "I was suddenly inspired and knew what I had to do." "what?" "I have to invent a new animal and hunt it." "A new animal, are you kidding me?" "I never joke about hunting. I needed a new animal. I found one. So I bought this island, built this house, and I hunted here. This island was just what I wanted— In the jungle here, there are winding paths like a magic palace, as well as mountains and swamps..." "General Zarov, but that animal..." "Oh," said the General, "this is the funnest hunt in the world. I hunt every day, and I never tire of it, because I have a rival for a quiz." A look of bewilderment came over Rainsford's face. "I needed the perfect prey, so I said: 'What would be the perfect opponent?' The answer, of course, was: 'It has to be brave, it has to be cunning, and, above all, it has to be able to think. .'" "But no animal can think," protested Rainsford. "My dear friend," said the general, "there is a possibility." "But you don't mean—" "Why not?" "I don't think you're serious, General Zarov. The joke is creepy." "Why can't I be serious? I'm talking about hunting." "Hunting? My God, General Zarov, you're talking about murder." The general looked at Rainsford mockingly. "Of course, your experience in the war..." "Don't make me condone cold-blooded murderers," Rainsford finished firmly. The general shook with laughter. "I bet you, once you hunt with me, you'll forget your point of view. You'll experience a new real thrill, Mr. Rainsford." "Thank you, I am a hunter, not a murderer." "My God," said the General calmly, "that's another unpleasant word. But I'm hunting the scum of the world - irregular sailors, East Indian sailors, Negroes, Orientals, whites ,Mongol." "How did you get those prey?" The general's eyelids drooped. "This island is called Ship Trap. Come with me to the window." Rainsford went to the window and looked out to sea. "Look! Look there!" the general shouted, pushing a button, and Rainsford saw far away, a fleeting flash of lights. Doesn't exist. The rocks curled up there are razor sharp, they're like sea monsters. They can crush a boat like a nut. Oh yes, that's electricity. We try to Be civilized." "Civilization? Are you going to kill those people?" "I'll take good care of my guests," said the General in the happiest of tones. "They'll get the best food and exercise. They'll be in top physical condition. You'll be able to-morrow." See it in yourself." "what do you mean?" "We're going to visit my training school now," said the general, smiling. "It's in the basement. There's about a dozen of them there. They came aboard a Spanish barque, the Sanluca, and they had bad luck aboard. The rocks there. It's a lower class bunch, I'm sorry to say, more used to decks than jungles." He raised a hand, and Ivan brought strong Turkish coffee. "It's a hunt, you understand," the general continued mildly. "I told one of them that we were going to hunt. I gave him three hours to go first. Then I set off with only one of the smallest caliber and range. If my quarry stays out for three days, he wins the hunt. If I find him," the general smiled, "he loses." "What if he refuses to be prey?" "He has the right to choose. If he doesn't want to hunt, I'll give him to Ivan. Ivan was an executioner in the government of the Tsar of Belarus, and he has his own views on sports. They always choose hunting." "What if they win?" The smile on the general's face spread, "So far, I haven't missed a single shot." Then he added hastily: "I don't want you to think I'm bragging, Mr. Rainsford. One man almost won. In the end I had to use my dogs." "dog?" "This way, come on. I'll show you." The general led the way to another window.The lights flickered and there were grotesque patterns in the courtyard below, and Rainsford could see a dozen or so huge black figures walking up and down.As they turned, he saw their eyes glow green. "I put them out at seven o'clock every night. If anyone tries to come into my house, or try to get out, something will happen. Now I want you to see my new collection of heads. Do you want to come to my collection room?" "I hope you'll forgive me this evening," said Rainsford. "I'm really not feeling well." "Ah, really? You need a good night's sleep. Tomorrow you'll feel like a whole new person. Then we go hunting, huh? I've got another promising prospect..." Rainsford came hastily from the room. "It's a pity you can't come with me tonight," cried the general. "I'd rather have fair sport. He's a big, strong black man, and he looks resourceful..." The bed was fine, Rainsford was very tired, but he just dozed off and couldn't sleep.At dawn, he heard a gunshot in the distant jungle. General Zarov did not appear until lunchtime, concerned about Rainsford's health. "As for me," he said, "I don't think so well. Last night's hunt wasn't very good. He went straight on without difficulty." "General," said Rainsford firmly, "I want to leave the island at once." He saw the general's dull black eyes studying him, and they flashed suddenly.He said, "Tonight we must go hunting—you and me." Rainsford shook his head. "No, General, I don't hunt," he said. The general shrugged. "It's up to you. The choice is yours to make, but I have to tell you that my concept of sports is much more interesting than Ivan's." "You don't mean..." cried Rainsford. "Dear friend," said the general, "didn't I tell you what I meant by hunting? It was a real inspiration. To the enemy who deserves my strength." The General raised his glass, but Rainsford sat staring at him. "You'll find the hunt worth your money," said the general enthusiastically. "Your brains against mine, your forest knowledge against mine, your strength and stamina against mine. Open-air chess Competition! This competition is not worthless, is it?" "Well, if I win..." said Rainsford hoarsely. "If I don't find you by midnight on the third day, I will happily throw in the towel," said General Zarov, "and my sloop will deliver you to land near a small town." The general studied what Rainsford was thinking. "Oh, you can trust me," said the Cossack, "I assure you as a gentleman and a sportsman. Of course, you must also agree to say nothing about your experiences here." "I wouldn't agree to any of those kinds of questions." "Oh, if that's the case—but why discuss it now? In three days' time we can discuss it over drinks, unless—" The general sipped his wine. Then a business atmosphere cheered him up, and he said: "Ivan will get you a hunting suit, food, and a knife. I suggest you wear moccasins, they leave a lighter print. I also have to suggest you avoid the big swamp on the southeast corner of the island. We call it the 'death swamp'. There's quicksand in there. One stupid guy tried to go there once. Lazarus followed him lamentably You can't imagine how I feel, Mr Rainsford, I love Lazarus, he's the best of my pack of hounds. Oh, now I beg your pardon, I've got to sleep a little after lunch, I don't think you've even had time to nap. No doubt you'll want to go. I won't follow until dusk. Hunting at night is more exciting than daytime, isn't it? Goodbye, Rainsford Goodbye, Mr. De." General Zarov bowed politely and left the house, and Ivan came in through another door.Under one arm he carried his hunting jacket, a canvas bag of food, and a long-bladed hunting knife in a leather sheath.His right hand rested on the revolver in the crimson sash that slung over his left shoulder... Rainsford struggled for two hours through the jungle, but at last he paused and let himself through clenched teeth. Yu said: "I have to keep my courage." His mind hadn't quite cleared since the castle doors closed behind him.His first thought was to keep a distance from General Zarov, and for this purpose, he was stimulated by the panic in front of him and jumped forward.Now that he was a little more sober, he stopped, took stock of his situation, and observed the environment. It is useless to run away straight ahead, for this inevitably leads to the sea.The sea has become a picture framed by water, and his actions must also be within this frame. "I've got to leave a trail for him to come after me," thought Rainsford, and he didn't run from the road into the unmarked grass.He remembered the knowledge of fox hunting and the tricks of foxes, and he walked around in his tracks.At night, his legs were tired, and the branches kept whipping his hands and face.He was on a wooded ridge.He needed a break so badly that he thought, "I've played the fox, now I'll play the cat in the fable." A big tree with a thick trunk stretched out its branches and leaves. Considering that no traces could be left, he jumped between the branches, lay down on a big branch, and rested for a while. He regained his confidence, and There is also a sense of security. Like a snake, the dreadful night snakes slowly.By morning, when the gray blackness in the sky had faded, the cry of a bird caught Rainsford's attention.Something came out of the bushes, walking slowly, cautiously, along the path Rainsford had taken.He leaned flat against the trunk, watching through the dense tapestry of foliage. It's General Zarov.He was walking, his eyes fixed on the ground.Almost under the tree, he stopped, knelt down, and studied the ground.Rainsford's pulse was beating like a panther's, but he saw a small semi-automatic pistol in the general's right hand. The hunter shook his head a few times in confusion, then he straightened up, took out a black cigar from his pocket, and its pungent, incense-like smell hit Rainsford's nostrils. Rainsford held his breath.The general's eyes left the ground and moved bit by bit up the tree.Rainsford was petrified, every muscle in his body stretched like a spring.But the sharp eyes of the hunter stopped before reaching the branch where Rainsford was.A smile played across his brown face.He cunningly blew a smoke ring into the air, then walked away from the big tree, nonchalantly leaving along the mark of his arrival.The grass brushing his hunting boots under the trees became fainter and fainter. His pent-up breath rushed hot from Rainsford's lungs, and his first thought made him sick and numb: the General could follow footprints through the woods at night; footprints; he must have unearthly powers; it was only by the slightest chance that he missed his hunter. Rainsford's second thought, more terrifying, gave him a shudder: why is the general smiling?Why did he turn back? Rainsford didn't want to believe what his reason told him was true—the general was playing games with him, letting him go for the next day's campaign.That Cossack is a cat, he is a mouse.At this moment, Rainsford knew the meaning of terror. "I will not lose my courage," he said to himself, "I will not." He slid down from the tree and into the woods.Three hundred yards from his hiding place, he stopped, a huge dead tree leaning precariously on a smaller living tree.He threw away the food bag, took the knife out of its sheath, and got to work. When the work was done, he collapsed behind a felled log a hundred feet away.He didn't have to wait long.The cat came back to play with the mouse. Accompanied safely by a large hound, General Zarov followed the tracks.In the moss, not even a shard of glass, not even a crooked twig, not even an imprint, however small, escaped those searching black eyes.The Cossack's roundup was quite attentive, and he stepped on it to see what Rainsford had made.One of his feet stepped on a protruding tree trunk, which was a trap.As soon as he stepped on it, he realized his danger, and sprang back with the swiftness of an ape.But he was not quick enough, and the dead tree, leaning delicately against the live felled tree, fell and brushed the general's shoulder as it fell, and would have been killed if he hadn't stepped out of the way. knock down.He staggered, but did not fall, nor did he drop his revolver.He stood there, rubbing his injured shoulder.Again Rainsford held his breath in horror as he heard the general's mocking laughter echoing through the jungle. "Rainsford," cried the General, "if you can hear my voice, let me congratulate you. Not all men know how to make a Malay trap. Fortunately, I also fought in Malacca. Excuse me. Mr. Rainsford, you turned out to be very interesting. I have to go and bandage the wound now, it's only a light wound. But I have to go back. I have to go back." The general went back to get his shoulder wound, and Rainsford started to flee again, gaining a few more hours.Dusk fell, and then it was dark, and he kept going.The ground softened under his moccasins, the vegetation thickened, and the bugs swarmed him.As he continued walking, one foot got stuck in the mud.He tried to pull it out, but the mud sucked hostilely at his foot like a giant leech.He jerked his foot out violently.He knew where he was now—the swamp of death, and the quicksands there. The soft ground gave him an idea.He stepped back a dozen paces from the quicksand and began digging like some giant prehistoric beaver. Rainsford had dug in France, when a second of delay meant death.But compared with what he was digging now, it was a peaceful leisure time.The hole got deeper and deeper, and when it was as deep as his shoulders, he climbed out and cut the stumps from some sturdy young trees and sharpened them.With flying fingers, he wove them into a rough blanket and draped them over the hole.Then, wet with sweat and tired and sore, he leaned against a tree stump he had whittled bare. He heard footsteps on the slime and knew his pursuers were coming.The night wind brought the aroma of General cigars.The general's arrival was unusually quick for the hunted man, and he didn't seem to be walking step by step.The general was not visible from where Rainsford was hiding, nor the trap.He feels that a day is longer than a year.Then he heard the snap of a branch, the cover of the trap gave way, and just as the sharp stump emerged from the ground, he heard a scream of pain.He drew back.Three feet from the trap, a man stood with a flashlight. "Well done, Rainsford," cried the General, "your Burmese tiger trap has eaten my best dog. You've won again. Now I'll see what you do with my pack of hounds. I Gotta go back and rest. It was such a fun night, thank you." Rainsford was lying on the edge of the moor when, at dawn, he was awakened by a faint, erratic sound in the distance, which he knew to be the low bark of a pack of hounds. Rainsford knew he could choose one of two things.He could stay where he was, which would be suicide; he could run away, which would be delaying the inevitable.He stood there thinking for a while.He suddenly had a crazy idea, so he tightened his belt and walked out of the swamp. The low barking of the hounds drew nearer.Rainsford climbed a tree.He saw, less than a quarter of a mile away, the undergrowth of a waterway moving.He looked hard and saw General Zarov's thin appearance.Just ahead of the General, Rainsford saw another figure, broad-shouldered, rushing through the reeds.It was Ivan the Giant, and he looked as if he was being dragged along.Rainsford realized that he must be holding the leash around the dog's neck. They were coming to him any moment.His mind was racing wildly, and he thought of a local trick he had learned in Uganda.He slid down the tree, grabbed a springy sapling, and strapped his hunting knife to it, pointing the blade at the trail he had left.He tied a bit of wild wine to the sapling... and then he ran for his life.The hounds had found a fresh scent, and their voices grew louder, and Rainsford knew what it was like to be an animal on the beach. He had to hold his breath.The hound's low bark stopped suddenly, and Rainsford's heart stopped beating.They must have touched the knife. He excitedly climbed a tree and looked back.His pursuer stopped.Rainsford saw that General Zarov was still standing there, and the hopes in his mind were dashed.However, Ivan was gone.The knife that Xiaoshu bounced back was not completely ineffective. As soon as Rainsford hit the ground, another bark was heard from the hounds. "Courage, courage, courage!" he told himself, panting, as he charged forward.A blue gap emerged from the bushes, leading to a dead end.The pack of dogs is getting closer.Rainsford had to go on.He reached the sea, and through the little gorge he could see the gray stone of the castle.Twenty-one feet below him, the sea roared.Rainsford hesitated.He heard the sound of dogs.Then, with a leap, he plunged into the water. When the general and his pack of dogs reached the gap, the Cossacks stopped.He stood for a moment gazing at the wide expanse of dark blue water.Then he sat down, took brandy from a silver flask, lit a fragrant cigar, and hummed a passage from "Madame Butterfly." That night, General Zarov hosted a sumptuous dinner in his enormous hall.He drank a bottle of Paul Roger and half a bottle of Chambertin.Two little things kept him from being completely happy.One is that it is difficult for anyone to replace Ivan; the other is that his prey has run away.当然，那个美国人没有遵守游戏规则——在晚宴后品尝利口酒时，将军这样想。 为了安慰自己，他到自己的图书馆里读了些马里·奥里利乌斯（罗马皇帝兼斯多噶派哲学家，121—180年。）的著作。十点钟的时候，他回到卧室。转动门上的钥匙时，他自言自语说，真的是太累了。屋里有一点点月光，在开灯之前，他走到窗前，往下看着庭院。他可以看见那些巨大的猎犬，于是他喊道：“下次运气更好。”然后，他开了灯。 有一个人一直躲在床帘里面，这时站在他面前。 “雷恩斯福德，”将军尖叫起来，“天哪，你怎么会在这儿？” “我是游过来的。我发现这比从丛林中走过来要快得多。” 另外一个人吸了一口气，微笑着，“祝贺你。你赢了。” 雷恩斯福德没有笑，“我仍然是海滩上的一只野兽，”他的声音低沉而沙哑，“做好准备吧，扎罗夫将军。” 将军深深地鞠了一躬，他说：“我明白了，好极了。在我们当中应该有一个人成为猎犬的晚餐。另一个将睡在这张非常舒适的床上。小心，雷恩斯福德……” 他从来没有睡在一张比这更好的床上，雷恩斯福德这样断定。