The Most Dangerous Game

by Richard Connell

There is no greater bore than perfection.”

Instinct is no match for reason.

“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?”

“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[1], blacks, Chinese, whites, mongrels—a thoroughbred horse or hound is worth more than a score of them.”

He lived a year in a minute.