A Game of Death Page #3

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Not that I remember.

Mr. Kreiger says that you

were shipwrecked too.

Make yourself comfortable Rainsford.

Pleshke, Cafe for her and Rainsford.

Better settle for brandy, Mr. Rainsford.

This will drown your troubles.

Not just now, thanks.

We have the honor of entertaining a

celebrity Ms. Trowbridge. See here.

Say, you're not the man that wrote

all those jungle thrillers?

Yes, Rainsford is our foremost authority

on wild animals and their habits.

Thank you.

I knew I'd seen your face somewhere.

It was in the news reels.

Why your front page stuff Mr. Rainsford.

This calls for a celebration.

Bob, no more. Please.

Well don't be like that, Ellen.

Bob!

Well what else is there to do around here.

10 days on this island, and nothing

to look at but jungle and ocean.

I feel as though we are

living on borrowed time.

Mr. Trowbridge doesn't

approve of my island.

Well why have you stayed?

Not because we wanted to.

What my brother means, is that

there is only one launch and...

Well, that's under repair.

Yes, you have to be patient

a few days longer.

I can't see that Mr. Trowbridge

has much to complain about.

Why here you have all the comforts

of civilization in the wilderness.

Too darn lonesome.

But it's swell for you

Erich, you can go hunting.

Hunting, here?

He goes hunting nearly every night.

Bet he has you doing the same.

Yes, I hope to offer Mr. Rainsford

some very unusual sports.

But what can you possibly find

to hunt on such a small island?

Big game.

Of course you're joking.

I never joke about hunting.

It has been my life.

I shot my first bear when I was 10.

I've been hunting ever since.

All over the world.

I couldn't possibly tell you

how many animals I've killed.

You must have had some

interesting experiences.

See that big fellow up there?

I had trouble with him.

He gave me this.

For sheer calculating savagery,

you can't beat the cape buffalo.

That's right.

But I got him.

Two week later, I was up...

and on my way to the Amazon.

I had heard that the jaguars

there were unusually cunning.

A fallacy, my dear Rainsford,

a complete fallacy.

They are no match for a man with his

wits about him and a high powered rifle.

I was bitterly disappointed.

Then, one night...

lying in my tent,

unable to sleep.

My head's throbbing.

A terrible thought began

pushing it's way into my mind.

The idea gave me actual,

very real physical pain.

Hunting, had begun to bore me.

It had ceased to be a sporting proposition.

I was too good.

I always got my quarry. Always.

Why didn't you handicap

yourself with a lighter weapon?

I did.

I gave up firearms almost entirely,

and became an expert with the bow.

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