Острів доктора Моро
How the Beast Folk Taste Blood.
Istaggeredon,myheadreelingandmyheartbeatingagainstmyribs,tiredalmosttodeath,andyetnotdaringtolosesightofthechaselestIshouldbeleftalonewiththishorriblecompanion.Istaggeredoninspiteofinfinitefatigueandthedenseheatofthetropicalafternoon.
Atlastthefuryofthehuntslackened.Wehadpinnedthewretchedbruteintoacorneroftheisland.Moreau,whipinhand,marshalledusallintoanirregularline,andweadvancednowslowly,shoutingtooneanotherasweadvancedandtighteningthecordonaboutourvictim.HelurkednoiselessandinvisibleinthebushesthroughwhichIhadrunfromhimduringthatmidnightpursuit.
"Steady!"criedMoreau,"steady!"astheendsofthelinecreptroundthetangleofundergrowthandhemmedthebrutein.
"Warearush!"camethevoiceofMontgomeryfrombeyondthethicket.
Iwasontheslopeabovethebushes;MontgomeryandMoreaubeatalongthebeachbeneath.Slowlywepushedinamongthefrettednetworkofbranchesandleaves.Thequarrywassilent.
"BacktotheHouseofPain,theHouseofPain,theHouseofPain!"yelpedthevoiceoftheApe-man,sometwentyyardstotheright.
WhenIheardthat,Iforgavethepoorwretchallthefearhehadinspiredinme.IheardthetwigssnapandtheboughsswishasidebeforetheheavytreadoftheHorse-rhinocerosuponmyright.
