Toward morning, when adingy gray was varnishing the sky, the cry ofsome startled bird focused Rainsford’s atten-tion in that direction.
It was General Zaroff . He made his way along with his eyes fixed in utmost concentration on the ground before him... Rainsford’s impulse was to hurl himself down like a panther, but he saw the general’s right hand held something metallic—a small automatic pistol.
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.
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?
The general wasplaying with him! Th e general was savinghim for another day’s sport! Th e Cossack wasthe cat; he was the mouse.
He slid down from the tree and struck offagain into the woods. His face was set and heforced the machinery of his mind to function.
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