Why does Zaroff think Rainsford is "droll" and "naive"?
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Answer:
"OFF THERE to the right--somewhere--is a large island," said Whitney."
It's rather a mystery--"
"What island is it?" Rainsford asked.
"The old charts call it `Ship-Trap Island,"' Whitney replied." A
suggestive name, isn't it? Sailors have a curious dread of the place. I
don't know why. Some superstition--"
"Can't see it," remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through the dank
tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick warm blackness
in upon the yacht.
"You've good eyes," said Whitney, with a laugh," and I've seen you pick
off a moose moving in the brown fall bush at four hundred yards, but
even you can't see four miles or so through a moonless Caribbean night."
"Nor four yards," admitted Rainsford. "Ugh! It's like moist black velvet."
"It will be light enough in Rio," promised Whitney. "We should make it
in a few days. I hope the jaguar guns have come from Purdey's. We should
have some good hunting up the Amazon. Great sport, hunting."
"The best sport in the world," agreed Rainsford.
"For the hunter," amended Whitney. "Not for the jaguar."
"Don't talk rot, Whitney," said Rainsford. "You're a big-game hunter,
not a philosopher. Who cares how a jaguar feels?"
"Perhaps the jaguar does," observed Whitney.
"Bah! They've no understanding."
"Even so, I rather think they understand one thing--fear. The fear of
pain and the fear of death."
"Nonsense," laughed Rainsford. "This hot weather is making you soft,
Whitney. Be a realist. The world is made up of two classes--the hunters
and the huntees. Luckily, you and I are hunters. Do you think we've
passed that island yet?"
"I can't tell in the dark. I hope so."
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