Остров доктора Моро
The Hunting of the Man.
Someofthesenodoubttheycouldpressintotheirserviceagainstmeifneedarose.IknewbothMoreauandMontgomerycarriedrevolvers;and,saveforafeeblebarofdealspikedwithasmallnail,themerestmockeryofamace,Iwasunarmed.
SoIlaystillthere,untilIbegantothinkoffoodanddrink;andatthatthoughttherealhopelessnessofmypositioncamehometome.Iknewnowayofgettinganythingtoeat.Iwastooignorantofbotanytodiscoveranyresortofrootorfruitthatmightlieaboutme;Ihadnomeansoftrappingthefewrabbitsupontheisland.ItgrewblankerthemoreIturnedtheprospectover.Atlastinthedesperationofmyposition,mymindturnedtotheanimalmenIhadencountered.ItriedtofindsomehopeinwhatIrememberedofthem.InturnIrecalledeachoneIhadseen,andtriedtodrawsomeauguryofassistancefrommymemory.
ThensuddenlyIheardastaghoundbay,andatthatrealisedanewdanger.Itooklittletimetothink,ortheywouldhavecaughtmethen,butsnatchingupmynailedstick,rushedheadlongfrommyhiding-placetowardsthesoundofthesea.Irememberagrowthofthornyplants,withspinesthatstabbedlikepen-knives.Iemergedbleedingandwithtornclothesuponthelipofalongcreekopeningnorthward.Iwentstraightintothewaterwithoutaminute’shesitation,wadingupthecreek,andpresentlyfindingmyselfkneedeepinalittlestream.
