We should have some good hunting up the Amazon. I hope the jaguar guns have come from Purdey's. "Ugh! It's like moist black velvet." "It will be light 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." "Nor four yards," admitted Rainsford. Some superstition-" "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. "A suggestive name, isn't it? Sailors have a curious dread of the place. "The old charts call it 'Ship-Trap Island,'" Whitney replied. Read the excerpt from "The Most Dangerous Game," by Richard Connell.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |