Загублений світ
It was Dreadful in the Forest
Thatthesemonstersshouldteareachothertopieceswasapartofthestrangestruggleforexistence,butthattheyshouldturnuponmodernman,thattheyshoulddeliberatelytrackandhuntdownthepredominanthuman,wasastaggeringandfearsomethought.Irememberedagaintheblood-beslobberedfacewhichwehadseenintheglareofLordJohn’storch,likesomehorriblevisionfromthedeepestcircleofDante’shell.Withmykneesshakingbeneathme,Istoodandglaredwithstartingeyesdownthemoonlitpathwhichlaybehindme.Allwasquietasinadreamlandscape.Silverclearingsandtheblackpatchesofthebushes—nothingelsecouldIsee.Thenfromoutofthesilence,imminentandthreatening,therecameoncemorethatlow,throatycroaking,farlouderandcloserthanbefore.Therecouldnolongerbeadoubt.Somethingwasonmytrail,andwasclosinginuponmeeveryminute.
Istoodlikeamanparalyzed,stillstaringatthegroundwhichIhadtraversed.ThensuddenlyIsawit.TherewasmovementamongthebushesatthefarendoftheclearingwhichIhadjusttraversed.Agreatdarkshadowdisengageditselfandhoppedoutintotheclearmoonlight.Isay"hopped"advisedly,forthebeastmovedlikeakangaroo,springingalonginanerectpositionuponitspowerfulhindlegs,whileitsfrontoneswereheldbentinfrontofit.Itwasofenormoussizeandpower,likeanerectelephant,butitsmovements,inspiteofitsbulk,wereexceedinglyalert.
