The Most Dangerous Game
"Off there to the right—somewhere—is a large island," saidWhitney. "It's rather a mystery—" "What island is it?" Rainsford asked. "The old charts call it `Ship-Trap Island,'" Whitney replied. "Asuggestive name, isn't it? Sailors have a curious dread of theplace. I don't know why. Some superstition—" "Can't see it," remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through thedank tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick warmblackness in upon the yacht. "You've good eyes," said Whitney, with a laugh, "and I've seenyou pick off a moose moving in the brown fall bush at four hundredyards, but even you can't see four miles or so through a moonlessCaribbean night." "Nor four yards," admitted Rainsford. "Ugh! It's like moistblack velvet." "It will be light enough in Rio," promised Whitney. "We shouldmake it in a few days. I hope t