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CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.6.9
Compare and contrast texts in different forms or genres (e.g., stories and poems; historical novels and fantasy stories) in terms of their approaches to similar themes and topics.

With a partner, write similarities that you noticed between all of the texts we read.  What were some things that several or all of them talked about?  How were the texts different from one another?  Which genre do you think works best for creating a theme of survival?  Why?

This writing should be brief bullet points that students write together. It will be informal.

After students answer the questions, have them get into small groups to discuss their answers and opinions.  Students will have a recorder in the group write what the group says, and then recorders from each group will share with the class what each group discussed.

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Story Events and Discussion Writing Assignment

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Story Events and Discussion Writing Assignment

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While students read the story, they will write or highlight important parts of the story, such as characters, setting, and problem in the exposition.  They will then write in the margins of the story two events in the rising action.  They should either highlight or write in the margin the climax of the story.  Then, they will write one event from the falling action.  When students are done reading, they will write the resolution at the end of the story, answering the question, "How was the problem solved?"

When students have done this, they will meet with their discussion groups.  These will be groups of 2 or 4.  Discussion groups will be provided with discussion questions, which will also be talked about before breaking into groups.  Students should also be prepared with one question of their own about the story to ask the group: something they did not understand, something they want to know more about, something the story reminds them of that they would like to share, or other questions related to the story.  Students will talk about the  protagonist and antagonist, as well as their qualities.  How would you describe them both?  They will also discuss what they noticed about the setting.  How would you describe the feeling of the story?  How did the setting affect the problem in the story or the feeling you got from the story?  Did it add to the mystery or the creepiness of the story?  Then, students will discuss what they thought the main problem of the story was and what type of conflict this was (man vs. man, nature, self, or society).  Students will share what they thought were some of the most important events in the story and why they think they were the most important events.  Finally, students will talk about how the problem was solved in the story.  Do you think the problem was solved appropriately?  Would you solve it differently?  Why or why not?

Create a plot chart based on the important events you discussed with your group as a visual representation of the story.

Finally, students should discuss why this story relates to the theme of survival.  Use their highlighting and notes to refer back to important parts in the story that show this.  How do changes in the characters show survival?  What skills do they use to survive?

How is this similar to or different from Ubiquitous?  Why?   How are the themes supported in both by the actions in the story or examples in the text?  Think specifically about the final two pages of Ubiquitous.

Students should write the answers to their personal question as others share.  They should be prepared to share their question with the whole group, as well as a few answers.  Not all students will share during whole group discussion.

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Descriptive Writing Using Senses Writing Assignment

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Descriptive Writing Using Senses Writing Assignment

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Students will go outside and view what is around them in their journals.  They will describe what they see, hear, think, smell, and feel.  Students can even draw pictures to describe what they see around them.  Students will add this to their treasure chests about which they can write later. Remind students to think back to how Mueller used specific details, adjectives, nouns, and verbs in order to describe the houses in her town. Students may share these with one another when they finish. They can also use the examples that others share with them to add to their own treasure chests.

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Author Background: About Lisel Mueller (Texture Text)

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Author Background: About Lisel Mueller (Texture Text)

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Rationale:
This text was chosen in order to provide students with background about the author prior to reading her piece.  This will also give students an idea of what in her life might have impacted her writing.

Lesson Ideas:
Read Lisel Mueller's background.  This way, students can discuss what possibly could have impacted her writing of "Scenic Route."

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Poet and translator Lisel Mueller was born in Hamburg, Germany in 1924. The daughter of teachers, her family was forced to flee the Nazi regime when Mueller was 15. They immigrated to the US and settled in the Mid-west. Mueller attended the University of Evansville, where her father was a professor, and did her graduate study at Indiana University.

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"Scenic Route" Poem by Lisel Mueller (Texture Text)

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"Scenic Route" Poem by Lisel Mueller (Texture Text)

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Rationale:
Students will read this piece in order to notice descriptive writing that is well done.  This will serve as a model for what students can use from their own life to inspire their writing.  The poem will also provide students with ideas for words they can use in their own descriptive writing. Since poetry is part of the fulcrum text, this provides both a similarity and a difference. The authors have different experiences and write in different ways. They do, however, both use their experiences to drive their writing. This also provides a contrast of mode to nonfiction writing in the fulcrum text, even though this is still biographical.
Writing skill focus/aspect(s) of craft:
Students will focus on descriptive writing and using their senses to describe in writing.  They will work to "show not tell" in their writing.
Objectives:
Students will notice descriptive details and senses used in the poem.  They will be able to use these in their own writing.  Students will also compare the theme of this writing and its supports to those of Ubiquitous.
Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.6.2
Determine a theme or central idea of a text and how it is conveyed through particular details; provide a summary of the text distinct from personal opinions or judgments.
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.6.7
Compare and contrast the experience of reading a story, drama, or poem to listening to or viewing an audio, video, or live version of the text, including contrasting what they "see" and "hear" when reading the text to what they perceive when they listen or watch.
Lesson Ideas:
Read the poem.  Have students notice the details that Lisel Mueller writes about.  Also discuss with students that the poet chooses to focus only on one small part of the town.  She describes the houses only.  Mueller magnifies one small part of her town.  Ask students to tell different parts of the town.  Then, I will model by choosing one part to describe in detail, as Mueller did.

Students will then compare and contrast this poem's theme and supporting details with the theme and details of Ubiquitous.  What is the same?  What is different?  Since both use real-life experiences and poetry, how do both authors present the theme of survival?  Do you think the authors had similar experiences?

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"Do You Hear the People Sing?" Argumentative Writing

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"Do You Hear the People Sing?" Argumentative Writing

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Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.W.6.1
Write arguments to support claims with clear reasons and relevant evidence.

Lesson Ideas:
This song is a call to the people of France to join in the Revolution.  After students have analyzed the song, have them choose an organization or cause that they would like to argue for.  They should rewrite the song (two verses and a chorus) trying to convince others to join their cause.

Students will refer back to the song and our discussion about how to persuade others, as well as what makes up an effective argument and reasons/evidence.

They should be sure to use evidence and reasons that would connect to the hearts of the people, not just their intellect.

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Author and Illustrator Notes and Acknowledgement (Context Text)

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Author and Illustrator Notes and Acknowledgement (Context Text)

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Rationale:
Students will read about author and illustrator background in order to understand the inspiration behind the book.  It is important for students to know they should be writing what they are most interested in and familiar with.  This can even be used to encourage students to talk to family, friends, and others to find ideas about what to write, such as Sidman talks about in her acknowledgements section.
Writing skill focus/aspect(s) of craft:
Gathering ideas will be the focus of this text.  This will be done in conjunction with the Author and Illustrator's Notes in the back of the text.
Objectives:
Students will read and understand where authors get their ideas from.  They will be able to connect this understanding to their own writing, pulling from life experiences to drive what they write.
Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RI.6.6
Determine an author's point of view or purpose in a text and explain how it is conveyed in the text.
Lesson Ideas:
Read author background and inspiration for the book.  Later, link what is written in the book (it's about animals and has poems referring to what she notices in her life, like squirrels interacting with her dog or babies crying and making messes) to where the author said she gets her ideas from or what her family and life backgrounds are.

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1. Author Website Background (Context Text)-Lesson 1
2. Author and Illustrator Notes and Acknowledgement (Context Text)-Lesson 1
3. Book Trailer (Context Text)-Lesson 1
4. Ubiquitous (Fulcrum text)-Lesson 1
5. Fill Your Treasure Chest writing assignment-Lesson 1
6. Survival Infographic (Texture Text)-Lesson 2
7. "How To" Infographic writing assignment-Lesson 2
8. Lisel Mueller Author Background (Texture Text)-Lesson 3
9. "Scenic Route" poem reading (Texture Text)-Lesson 3
10. Descriptive Writing Using Senses writing assignment-Lesson 3
11. Les Miserables Background Reading (Texture Text Text)-Lesson 4
12. "Do You Hear the People Sing" Song and Lyrics (Texture Text)-Lesson 4
13. Argumentative Writing Song Re-write-Lesson 4
14. The Most Dangerous Game reading (Texture Text)-Lesson 5
15. Story Events and Discussion writing assignment-Lesson 5
16. Final Writing Assignment: Poetry-Lesson 6
17.  Class Final Discussion-Lesson 7

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Fill Your Treasure Chest Writing Assignment

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Fill Your Treasure Chest Writing Assignment

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Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.W.6.3.D
Use precise words and phrases, relevant descriptive details, and sensory language to convey experiences and events.

Lesson Ideas:
After reading Ubiquitous, students will create a treasure chest of ideas that they would like to write about.  I will model first how to create a treasure chest of my own.  On the board, I will list things in my life that I can write about, things I am interested in, or stories that I would like to tell.  This will mainly be topics.  Then, together we will make a whole class list of writing options that they can add to my list that is currently on the board.  Students will turn and talk to one another before they share examples of topics we could write about.  Finally, students can choose topics I listed, those we listed on the board together, or they can add their own.  Students should focus on times when they got through something difficult, know someone who got through a hard time, or causes and organizations they would like to write about.  The students can also write down their favorite pets or animals; anything that they love and can write about.  They will write these in their own treasure chests in their journals.

This can also be pulled from later in the year when students write narratives.  This will give students a wealth of topics to choose from.

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Author Website Background (Context Text)

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Author Website Background (Context Text)

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Rationale:
Students will read about author background in order to understand the inspiration behind the book.  It is important for students to know they should be writing what they are most interested in and familiar with.  FAQs part two discusses where Sidman gets her ideas, which will show students where they can also gather their own ideas.
Writing skill focus/aspect(s) of craft:
Gathering ideas will be the focus of this text.  This will be done in conjunction with the Author and Illustrator's Notes in the back of the text.
Objectives:
Students will read and understand where authors get their ideas from.  They will be able to connect this understanding to their own writing, pulling from life experiences to drive what they write.
Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RI.6.6
Determine an author's point of view or purpose in a text and explain how it is conveyed in the text.
Lesson Ideas:
Read author background and inspiration for the book.  Later, link what is written in the book (it's about animals and has poems referring to what she notices in her life, like squirrels interacting with her dog or babies crying and making messes) to where the author said she gets her ideas from or what her family and life backgrounds are.

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Students will choose one of the poems we have read from Joyce Sidman's book.  Everyone should refer back to their treasure chests that they added to along the way.  Students will write a poem about survival.  They can choose the subject.  It can be fact or fiction.  If students do not like their choices from their treasure chests, they should brainstorm more options.  Students should view and follow the rubric provided. This is more of a practice in writing for a specific theme and using descriptive details to support that theme. Students will use author text, as well as my own samples, as a model. I will model each type of poetry as a small group mini lesson after students have narrowed down their choice of poem type to two options. After their mini lessons they will choose one as their mode of writing.

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Summary of Les Miserables (Texture Text)

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Summary of Les Miserables (Texture Text)

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Rationale:
The summary provides necessary background for students who do not know much about the French Revolution or the story of Les Miserables.  This will allow students to make accurate comparisons and give them prior knowledge.
Objectives:
Students will use the summary to add to their understanding of the song from Les Miserables.
Lesson Ideas:
Students will read the summary prior to hearing the song and reading the lyrics.  Have students share with a partner a two sentence summary of what was read.

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Les Miserables: SHORT SUMMARY / SYNOPSIS / CONFLICT / PROTAGONIST / ANTAGONIST by Victor Hugo: Free Study Guide

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Les Miserables: SHORT SUMMARY / SYNOPSIS / CONFLICT / PROTAGONIST / ANTAGONIST by Victor Hugo: Free Study Guide

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The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell (Texture Text)

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The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell (Texture Text)

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Rationale:
This story is about the survival of people who are being hunted by another human.  This text will be related back to Ubiquitous.  Students can specifically relate it back to the final pages that are about human survival over the last many thousands of years.  This is also a narrative piece, which differs from the argumentative, nonfiction, and poetry pieces involved.
Writing skill focus/aspect(s) of craft:
Students will take notes throughout the story and interact with the text.  They will also develop thoughtful questions that are related to the piece and require critical thinking.  Students will also use their writing to develop a plot diagram, showing the action of the story in a visual way.
Objectives:
Students will create questions based on the story.  They will also respond to the story in writing as they interact with the text.  Their questions, notes, and highlighting will lead their peer discussion.  A plot chart of the story will be developed to represent the story.
Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.6.1
Cite textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from the text.
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.6.2
Determine a theme or central idea of a text and how it is conveyed through particular details; provide a summary of the text distinct from personal opinions or judgments.
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.6.3
Describe how a particular story's or drama's plot unfolds in a series of episodes as well as how the characters respond or change as the plot moves toward a resolution.
Lesson Ideas:
Students will read the story with a partner or we can do this as a read aloud.  Directions for what students will do during the story are found below.

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by Richard Connell (1893-1949)

Approximate Word Count: 8426

"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."

"The place has a reputation--a bad one."

"Cannibals?" suggested Rainsford.

"Hardly. Even cannibals wouldn't live in such a God-forsaken place. But it's gotten into sailor lore, somehow. Didn't you notice that the crew's nerves seemed a bit jumpy today?"

"They were a bit strange, now you mention it. Even Captain Nielsen--"

"Yes, even that tough-minded old Swede, who'd go up to the devil himself and ask him for a light. Those fishy blue eyes held a look I never saw there before. All I could get out of him was 'This place has an evil name among seafaring men, sir.' Then he said to me, very gravely, 'Don't you feel anything?'--as if the air about us was actually poisonous. Now, you mustn't laugh when I tell you this--I did feel something like a sudden chill.

"There was no breeze. The sea was as flat as a plate-glass window. We were drawing near the island then. What I felt was a--a mental chill; a sort of sudden dread."

"Pure imagination," said Rainsford.

"One superstitious sailor can taint the whole ship's company with his fear."

"Maybe. But sometimes I think sailors have an extra sense that tells them when they are in danger. Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing--with wave lengths, just as sound and light have. An evil place can, so to speak, broadcast vibrations of evil. Anyhow, I'm glad we're getting out of this zone. Well, I think I'll turn in now, Rainsford."

"I'm not sleepy," said Rainsford. "I'm going to smoke another pipe up on the afterdeck."

"Good night, then, Rainsford. See you at breakfast."

"Right. Good night, Whitney."

There was no sound in the night as Rainsford sat there but the muffled throb of the engine that drove the yacht swiftly through the darkness, and the swish and ripple of the wash of the propeller.

Rainsford, reclining in a steamer chair, indolently puffed on his favorite brier. The sensuous drowsiness of the night was on him." It's so dark," he thought, "that I could sleep without closing my eyes; the night would be my eyelids--"

An abrupt sound startled him. Off to the right he heard it, and his ears, expert in such matters, could not be mistaken. Again he heard the sound, and again. Somewhere, off in the blackness, someone had fired a gun three times.

Rainsford sprang up and moved quickly to the rail, mystified. He strained his eyes in the direction from which the reports had come, but it was like trying to see through a blanket. He leaped upon the rail and balanced himself there, to get greater elevation; his pipe, striking a rope, was knocked from his mouth. He lunged for it; a short, hoarse cry came from his lips as he realized he had reached too far and had lost his balance. The cry was pinched off short as the blood-warm waters of the Caribbean Sea dosed over his head.

He struggled up to the surface and tried to cry out, but the wash from the speeding yacht slapped him in the face and the salt water in his open mouth made him gag and strangle. Desperately he struck out with strong strokes after the receding lights of the yacht, but he stopped before he had swum fifty feet. A certain coolheadedness had come to him; it was not the first time he had been in a tight place. There was a chance that his cries could be heard by someone aboard the yacht, but that chance was slender and grew more slender as the yacht raced on. He wrestled himself out of his clothes and shouted with all his power. The lights of the yacht became faint and ever-vanishing fireflies; then they were blotted out entirely by the night.

Rainsford remembered the shots. They had come from the right, and doggedly he swam in that direction, swimming with slow, deliberate strokes, conserving his strength. For a seemingly endless time he fought the sea. He began to count his strokes; he could do possibly a hundred more and then--

Rainsford heard a sound. It came out of the darkness, a high screaming sound, the sound of an animal in an extremity of anguish and terror.

He did not recognize the animal that made the sound; he did not try to; with fresh vitality he swam toward the sound. He heard it again; then it was cut short by another noise, crisp, staccato.

"Pistol shot," muttered Rainsford, swimming on.

Ten minutes of determined effort brought another sound to his ears--the most welcome he had ever heard--the muttering and growling of the sea breaking on a rocky shore. He was almost on the rocks before he saw them; on a night less calm he would have been shattered against them. With his remaining strength he dragged himself from the swirling waters. Jagged crags appeared to jut up into the opaqueness; he forced himself upward, hand over hand. Gasping, his hands raw, he reached a flat place at the top. Dense jungle came down to the very edge of the cliffs. What perils that tangle of trees and underbrush might hold for him did not concern Rainsford just then. All he knew was that he was safe from his enemy, the sea, and that utter weariness was on him. He flung himself down at the jungle edge and tumbled headlong into the deepest sleep of his life.

When he opened his eyes he knew from the position of the sun that it was late in the afternoon. Sleep had given him new vigor; a sharp hunger was picking at him. He looked about him, almost cheerfully.

"Where there are pistol shots, there are men. Where there are men, there is food," he thought. But what kind of men, he wondered, in so forbidding a place? An unbroken front of snarled and ragged jungle fringed the shore.

He saw no sign of a trail through the closely knit web of weeds and trees; it was easier to go along the shore, and Rainsford floundered along by the water. Not far from where he landed, he stopped.

Some wounded thing--by the evidence, a large animal--had thrashed about in the underbrush; the jungle weeds were crushed down and the moss was lacerated; one patch of weeds was stained crimson. A small, glittering object not far away caught Rainsford's eye and he picked it up. It was an empty cartridge.

"A twenty-two," he remarked. "That's odd. It must have been a fairly large animal too. The hunter had his nerve with him to tackle it with a light gun. It's clear that the brute put up a fight. I suppose the first three shots I heard was when the hunter flushed his quarry and wounded it. The last shot was when he trailed it here and finished it."

He examined the ground closely and found what he had hoped to find--the print of hunting boots. They pointed along the cliff in the direction he had been going. Eagerly he hurried along, now slipping on a rotten log or a loose stone, but making headway; night was beginning to settle down on the island.

Bleak darkness was blacking out the sea and jungle when Rainsford sighted the lights. He came upon them as he turned a crook in the coast line; and his first thought was that be had come upon a village, for there were many lights. But as he forged along he saw to his great astonishment that all the lights were in one enormous building--a lofty structure with pointed towers plunging upward into the gloom. His eyes made out the shadowy outlines of a palatial chateau; it was set on a high bluff, and on three sides of it cliffs dived down to where the sea licked greedy lips in the shadows.

"Mirage," thought Rainsford. But it was no mirage, he found, when he opened the tall spiked iron gate. The stone steps were real enough; the massive door with a leering gargoyle for a knocker was real enough; yet above it all hung an air of unreality.

He lifted the knocker, and it creaked up stiffly, as if it had never before been used. He let it fall, and it startled him with its booming loudness. He thought he heard steps within; the door remained closed. Again Rainsford lifted the heavy knocker, and let it fall. The door opened then--opened as suddenly as if it were on a spring--and Rainsford stood blinking in the river of glaring gold light that poured out. The first thing Rainsford's eyes discerned was the largest man Rainsford had ever seen--a gigantic creature, solidly made and black bearded to the waist. In his hand the man held a long-barreled revolver, and he was pointing it straight at Rainsford's heart.

Out of the snarl of beard two small eyes regarded Rainsford.

"Don't be alarmed," said Rainsford, with a smile which he hoped was disarming. "I'm no robber. I fell off a yacht. My name is Sanger Rainsford of New York City."

The menacing look in the eyes did not change. The revolver pointing as rigidly as if the giant were a statue. He gave no sign that he understood Rainsford's words, or that he had even heard them. He was dressed in uniform--a black uniform trimmed with gray astrakhan.

"I'm Sanger Rainsford of New York," Rainsford began again. "I fell off a yacht. I am hungry."

The man's only answer was to raise with his thumb the hammer of his revolver. Then Rainsford saw the man's free hand go to his forehead in a military salute, and he saw him click his heels together and stand at attention. Another man was coming down the broad marble steps, an erect, slender man in evening clothes. He advanced to Rainsford and held out his hand.

In a cultivated voice marked by a slight accent that gave it added precision and deliberateness, he said, "It is a very great pleasure and honor to welcome Mr. Sanger Rainsford, the celebrated hunter, to my home."

Automatically Rainsford shook the man's hand.

"I've read your book about hunting snow leopards in Tibet, you see," explained the man. "I am General Zaroff."

Rainsford's first impression was that the man was singularly handsome; his second was that there was an original, almost bizarre quality about the general's face. He was a tall man past middle age, for his hair was a vivid white; but his thick eyebrows and pointed military mustache were as black as the night from which Rainsford had come. His eyes, too, were black and very bright. He had high cheekbones, a sharpcut nose, a spare, dark face--the face of a man used to giving orders, the face of an aristocrat. Turning to the giant in uniform, the general made a sign. The giant put away his pistol, saluted, withdrew.

"Ivan is an incredibly strong fellow," remarked the general, "but he has the misfortune to be deaf and dumb. A simple fellow, but, I'm afraid, like all his race, a bit of a savage."

"He is a Cossack," said the general, and his smile showed red lips and pointed teeth. "So am I."

"Come," he said, "we shouldn't be chatting here. We can talk later. Now you want clothes, food, rest. You shall have them. This is a most-restful spot."

Ivan had reappeared, and the general spoke to him with lips that moved but gave forth no sound.

"Follow Ivan, if you please, Mr. Rainsford," said the general. "I was about to have my dinner when you came. I'll wait for you. You'll find that my clothes will fit you, I think."

It was to a huge, beam-ceilinged bedroom with a canopied bed big enough for six men that Rainsford followed the silent giant. Ivan laid out an evening suit, and Rainsford, as he put it on, noticed that it came from a London tailor who ordinarily cut and sewed for none below the rank of duke.

The dining room to which Ivan conducted him was in many ways remarkable. There was a medieval magnificence about it; it suggested a baronial hall of feudal times with its oaken panels, its high ceiling, its vast refectory tables where twoscore men could sit down to eat. About the hall were mounted heads of many animals--lions, tigers, elephants, moose, bears; larger or more perfect specimens Rainsford had never seen. At the great table the general was sitting, alone.

"You'll have a cocktail, Mr. Rainsford," he suggested. The cocktail was surpassingly good; and, Rainsford noted, the table apointments were of the finest--the linen, the crystal, the silver, the china.

They were eating borsch, the rich, red soup with whipped cream so dear to Russian palates. Half apologetically General Zaroff said, "We do our best to preserve the amenities of civilization here. Please forgive any lapses. We are well off the beaten track, you know. Do you think the champagne has suffered from its long ocean trip?"

"Not in the least," declared Rainsford. He was finding the general a most thoughtful and affable host, a true cosmopolite. But there was one small trait of the general's that made Rainsford uncomfortable. Whenever he looked up from his plate he found the general studying him, appraising him narrowly.

"Perhaps," said General Zaroff, "you were surprised that I recognized your name. You see, I read all books on hunting published in English, French, and Russian. I have but one passion in my life, Mr. Rainsford, and it is the hunt."

"You have some wonderful heads here," said Rainsford as he ate a particularly well-cooked filet mignon. " That Cape buffalo is the largest I ever saw."

"Oh, that fellow. Yes, he was a monster."

"Hurled me against a tree," said the general. "Fractured my skull. But I got the brute."

"I've always thought," said Rainsford, "that the Cape buffalo is the most dangerous of all big game."

For a moment the general did not reply; he was smiling his curious red-lipped smile. Then he said slowly, "No. You are wrong, sir. The Cape buffalo is not the most dangerous big game." He sipped his wine. "Here in my preserve on this island," he said in the same slow tone, "I hunt more dangerous game."

Rainsford expressed his surprise. "Is there big game on this island?"

The general nodded. "The biggest."

"Oh, it isn't here naturally, of course. I have to stock the island."

"What have you imported, general?" Rainsford asked. "Tigers?"

The general smiled. "No," he said. "Hunting tigers ceased to interest me some years ago. I exhausted their possibilities, you see. No thrill left in tigers, no real danger. I live for danger, Mr. Rainsford."

The general took from his pocket a gold cigarette case and offered his guest a long black cigarette with a silver tip; it was perfumed and gave off a smell like incense.

"We will have some capital hunting, you and I," said the general. "I shall be most glad to have your society."

"But what game--" began Rainsford.

"I'll tell you," said the general. "You will be amused, I know. I think I may say, in all modesty, that I have done a rare thing. I have invented a new sensation. May I pour you another glass of port?"

The general filled both glasses, and said, "God makes some men poets. Some He makes kings, some beggars. Me He made a hunter. My hand was made for the trigger, my father said. He was a very rich man with a quarter of a million acres in the Crimea, and he was an ardent sportsman. When I was only five years old he gave me a little gun, specially made in Moscow for me, to shoot sparrows with. When I shot some of his prize turkeys with it, he did not punish me; he complimented me on my marksmanship. I killed my first bear in the Caucasus when I was ten. My whole life has been one prolonged hunt. I went into the army--it was expected of noblemen's sons--and for a time commanded a division of Cossack cavalry, but my real interest was always the hunt. I have hunted every kind of game in every land. It would be impossible for me to tell you how many animals I have killed."

The general puffed at his cigarette.

"After the debacle in Russia I left the country, for it was imprudent for an officer of the Czar to stay there. Many noble Russians lost everything. I, luckily, had invested heavily in American securities, so I shall never have to open a tearoom in Monte Carlo or drive a taxi in Paris. Naturally, I continued to hunt--grizzlies in your Rockies, crocodiles in the Ganges, rhinoceroses in East Africa. It was in Africa that the Cape buffalo hit me and laid me up for six months. As soon as I recovered I started for the Amazon to hunt jaguars, for I had heard they were unusually cunning. They weren't." The Cossack sighed. "They were no match at all for a hunter with his wits about him, and a high-powered rifle. I was bitterly disappointed. I was lying in my tent with a splitting headache one night when a terrible thought pushed its way into my mind. Hunting was beginning to bore me! And hunting, remember, had been my life. I have heard that in America businessmen often go to pieces when they give up the business that has been their life."

"Yes, that's so," said Rainsford.

The general smiled. "I had no wish to go to pieces," he said. "I must do something. Now, mine is an analytical mind, Mr. Rainsford. Doubtless that is why I enjoy the problems of the chase."

"No doubt, General Zaroff."

"So," continued the general, "I asked myself why the hunt no longer fascinated me. You are much younger than I am, Mr. Rainsford, and have not hunted as much, but you perhaps can guess the answer."

"Simply this: hunting had ceased to be what you call 'a sporting proposition.' It had become too easy. I always got my quarry. Always. There is no greater bore than perfection."

The general lit a fresh cigarette.

"No animal had a chance with me any more. That is no boast; it is a mathematical certainty. The animal had nothing but his legs and his instinct. Instinct is no match for reason. When I thought of this it was a tragic moment for me, I can tell you."

Rainsford leaned across the table, absorbed in what his host was saying.

"It came to me as an inspiration what I must do," the general went on.

The general smiled the quiet smile of one who has faced an obstacle and surmounted it with success. "I had to invent a new animal to hunt," he said.

"A new animal? You're joking."

"Not at all," said the general. "I never joke about hunting. I needed a new animal. I found one. So I bought this island built this house, and here I do my hunting. The island is perfect for my purposes--there are jungles with a maze of traits in them, hills, swamps--"

"But the animal, General Zaroff?"

"Oh," said the general, "it supplies me with the most exciting hunting in the world. No other hunting compares with it for an instant. Every day I hunt, and I never grow bored now, for I have a quarry with which I can match my wits."

Rainsford's bewilderment showed in his face.

"I wanted the ideal animal to hunt," explained the general. "So I said, 'What are the attributes of an ideal quarry?' And the answer was, of course, 'It must have courage, cunning, and, above all, it must be able to reason."'

"But no animal can reason," objected Rainsford.

"My dear fellow," said the general, "there is one that can."

"But you can't mean--" gasped Rainsford.

"I can't believe you are serious, General Zaroff. This is a grisly joke."

"Why should I not be serious? I am speaking of hunting."

"Hunting? Great Guns, General Zaroff, what you speak of is murder."

The general laughed with entire good nature. He regarded Rainsford quizzically. "I refuse to believe that so modern and civilized a young man as you seem to be harbors romantic ideas about the value of human life. Surely your experiences in the war--"

"Did not make me condone cold-blooded murder," finished Rainsford stiffly.

Laughter shook the general. "How extraordinarily droll you are!" he said. "One does not expect nowadays to find a young man of the educated class, even in America, with such a naïve, and, if I may say so, mid-Victorian point of view. It's like finding a snuffbox in a limousine. Ah, well, doubtless you had Puritan ancestors. So many Americans appear to have had. I'll wager you'll forget your notions when you go hunting with me. You've a genuine new thrill in store for you, Mr. Rainsford."

"Thank you, I'm a hunter, not a murderer."

"Dear me," said the general, quite unruffled, "again that unpleasant word. But I think I can show you that your scruples are quite ill founded."

"Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and, if needs be, taken by the strong. The weak of the world were put here to give the strong pleasure. I am strong. Why should I not use my gift? If I wish to hunt, why should I not? I hunt the scum of the earth: sailors from tramp ships-- lassars, blacks, Chinese, whites, mongrels--a thoroughbred horse or hound is worth more than a score of them."

"But they are men," said Rainsford hotly.

"Precisely," said the general. "That is why I use them. It gives me pleasure. They can reason, after a fashion. So they are dangerous."

"But where do you get them?"

The general's left eyelid fluttered down in a wink. "This island is called Ship Trap," he answered. "Sometimes an angry god of the high seas sends them to me. Sometimes, when Providence is not so kind, I help Providence a bit. Come to the window with me."

Rainsford went to the window and looked out toward the sea.

"Watch! Out there!" exclaimed the general, pointing into the night. Rainsford's eyes saw only blackness, and then, as the general pressed a button, far out to sea Rainsford saw the flash of lights.

The general chuckled. "They indicate a channel," he said, "where there's none; giant rocks with razor edges crouch like a sea monster with wide-open jaws. They can crush a ship as easily as I crush this nut." He dropped a walnut on the hardwood floor and brought his heel grinding down on it. "Oh, yes," he said, casually, as if in answer to a question, "I have electricity. We try to be civilized here."

"Civilized? And you shoot down men?"

A trace of anger was in the general's black eyes, but it was there for but a second; and he said, in his most pleasant manner, "Dear me, what a righteous young man you are! I assure you I do not do the thing you suggest. That would be barbarous. I treat these visitors with every consideration. They get plenty of good food and exercise. They get into splendid physical condition. You shall see for yourself tomorrow."

"We'll visit my training school," smiled the general. "It's in the cellar. I have about a dozen pupils down there now. They're from the Spanish bark San Lucar that had the bad luck to go on the rocks out there. A very inferior lot, I regret to say. Poor specimens and more accustomed to the deck than to the jungle." He raised his hand, and Ivan, who served as waiter, brought thick Turkish coffee. Rainsford, with an effort, held his tongue in check.

"It's a game, you see," pursued the general blandly. "I suggest to one of them that we go hunting. I give him a supply of food and an excellent hunting knife. I give him three hours' start. I am to follow, armed only with a pistol of the smallest caliber and range. If my quarry eludes me for three whole days, he wins the game. If I find him "--the general smiled--" he loses."

"Suppose he refuses to be hunted?"

"Oh," said the general, "I give him his option, of course. He need not play that game if he doesn't wish to. If he does not wish to hunt, I turn him over to Ivan. Ivan once had the honor of serving as official knouter to the Great White Czar, and he has his own ideas of sport. Invariably, Mr. Rainsford, invariably they choose the hunt."

The smile on the general's face widened. "To date I have not lost," he said. Then he added, hastily: "I don't wish you to think me a braggart, Mr. Rainsford. Many of them afford only the most elementary sort of problem. Occasionally I strike a tartar. One almost did win. I eventually had to use the dogs."

"This way, please. I'll show you."

The general steered Rainsford to a window. The lights from the windows sent a flickering illumination that made grotesque patterns on the courtyard below, and Rainsford could see moving about there a dozen or so huge black shapes; as they turned toward him, their eyes glittered greenly.

"A rather good lot, I think," observed the general. "They are let out at seven every night. If anyone should try to get into my house--or out of it--something extremely regrettable would occur to him." He hummed a snatch of song from the Folies Bergere.

"And now," said the general, "I want to show you my new collection of heads. Will you come with me to the library?"

"I hope," said Rainsford, "that you will excuse me tonight, General Zaroff. I'm really not feeling well."

"Ah, indeed?" the general inquired solicitously. "Well, I suppose that's only natural, after your long swim. You need a good, restful night's sleep. Tomorrow you'll feel like a new man, I'll wager. Then we'll hunt, eh? I've one rather promising prospect--" Rainsford was hurrying from the room.

"Sorry you can't go with me tonight," called the general. "I expect rather fair sport--a big, strong, black. He looks resourceful--Well, good night, Mr. Rainsford; I hope you have a good night's rest."

The bed was good, and the pajamas of the softest silk, and he was tired in every fiber of his being, but nevertheless Rainsford could not quiet his brain with the opiate of sleep. He lay, eyes wide open. Once he thought he heard stealthy steps in the corridor outside his room. He sought to throw open the door; it would not open. He went to the window and looked out. His room was high up in one of the towers. The lights of the chateau were out now, and it was dark and silent; but there was a fragment of sallow moon, and by its wan light he could see, dimly, the courtyard. There, weaving in and out in the pattern of shadow, were black, noiseless forms; the hounds heard him at the window and looked up, expectantly, with their green eyes. Rainsford went back to the bed and lay down. By many methods he tried to put himself to sleep. He had achieved a doze when, just as morning began to come, he heard, far off in the jungle, the faint report of a pistol.

General Zaroff did not appear until luncheon. He was dressed faultlessly in the tweeds of a country squire. He was solicitous about the state of Rainsford's health.

"As for me," sighed the general, "I do not feel so well. I am worried, Mr. Rainsford. Last night I detected traces of my old complaint."

To Rainsford's questioning glance the general said, " Ennui. Boredom."

Then, taking a second helping of crâpes Suzette, the general explained: "The hunting was not good last night. The fellow lost his head. He made a straight trail that offered no problems at all. That's the trouble with these sailors; they have dull brains to begin with, and they do not know how to get about in the woods. They do excessively stupid and obvious things. It's most annoying. Will you have another glass of Chablis, Mr. Rainsford?"

"General," said Rainsford firmly, "I wish to leave this island at once."

The general raised his thickets of eyebrows; he seemed hurt. "But, my dear fellow," the general protested, "you've only just come. You've had no hunting--"

"I wish to go today," said Rainsford. He saw the dead black eyes of the general on him, studying him. General Zaroff's face suddenly brightened.

He filled Rainsford's glass with venerable Chablis from a dusty bottle.

"Tonight," said the general, "we will hunt--you and I."

Rainsford shook his head. "No, general," he said. "I will not hunt."

The general shrugged his shoulders and delicately ate a hothouse grape. "As you wish, my friend," he said. "The choice rests entirely with you. But may I not venture to suggest that you will find my idea of sport more diverting than Ivan's?"

He nodded toward the corner to where the giant stood, scowling, his thick arms crossed on his hogshead of chest.

"You don't mean--" cried Rainsford.

"My dear fellow," said the general, "have I not told you I always mean what I say about hunting? This is really an inspiration. I drink to a foeman worthy of my steel--at last." The general raised his glass, but Rainsford sat staring at him.

"You'll find this game worth playing," the general said enthusiastically." Your brain against mine. Your woodcraft against mine. Your strength and stamina against mine. Outdoor chess! And the stake is not without value, eh?"

"And if I win--" began Rainsford huskily.

"I'll cheerfully acknowledge myself defeat if I do not find you by midnight of the third day," said General Zaroff. "My sloop will place you on the mainland near a town." The general read what Rainsford was thinking.

"Oh, you can trust me," said the Cossack. "I will give you my word as a gentleman and a sportsman. Of course you, in turn, must agree to say nothing of your visit here."

"I'll agree to nothing of the kind," said Rainsford.

"Oh," said the general, "in that case--But why discuss that now? Three days hence we can discuss it over a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, unless--"

The general sipped his wine.

Then a businesslike air animated him. "Ivan," he said to Rainsford, "will supply you with hunting clothes, food, a knife. I suggest you wear moccasins; they leave a poorer trail. I suggest, too, that you avoid the big swamp in the southeast corner of the island. We call it Death Swamp. There's quicksand there. One foolish fellow tried it. The deplorable part of it was that Lazarus followed him. You can imagine my feelings, Mr. Rainsford. I loved Lazarus; he was the finest hound in my pack. Well, I must beg you to excuse me now. I always' take a siesta after lunch. You'll hardly have time for a nap, I fear. You'll want to start, no doubt. I shall not follow till dusk. Hunting at night is so much more exciting than by day, don't you think? Au revoir, Mr. Rainsford, au revoir." General Zaroff, with a deep, courtly bow, strolled from the room.

From another door came Ivan. Under one arm he carried khaki hunting clothes, a haversack of food, a leather sheath containing a long-bladed hunting knife; his right hand rested on a cocked revolver thrust in the crimson sash about his waist.

Rainsford had fought his way through the bush for two hours. "I must keep my nerve. I must keep my nerve," he said through tight teeth.

He had not been entirely clearheaded when the chateau gates snapped shut behind him. His whole idea at first was to put distance between himself and General Zaroff; and, to this end, he had plunged along, spurred on by the sharp rowers of something very like panic. Now he had got a grip on himself, had stopped, and was taking stock of himself and the situation. He saw that straight flight was futile; inevitably it would bring him face to face with the sea. He was in a picture with a frame of water, and his operations, clearly, must take place within that frame.

"I'll give him a trail to follow," muttered Rainsford, and he struck off from the rude path he had been following into the trackless wilderness. He executed a series of intricate loops; he doubled on his trail again and again, recalling all the lore of the fox hunt, and all the dodges of the fox. Night found him leg-weary, with hands and face lashed by the branches, on a thickly wooded ridge. He knew it would be insane to blunder on through the dark, even if he had the strength. His need for rest was imperative and he thought, "I have played the fox, now I must play the cat of the fable." A big tree with a thick trunk and outspread branches was near by, and, taking care to leave not the slightest mark, he climbed up into the crotch, and, stretching out on one of the broad limbs, after a fashion, rested. Rest brought him new confidence and almost a feeling of security. Even so zealous a hunter as General Zaroff could not trace him there, he told himself; only the devil himself could follow that complicated trail through the jungle after dark. But perhaps the general was a devil--

An apprehensive night crawled slowly by like a wounded snake and sleep did not visit Rainsford, although the silence of a dead world was on the jungle. Toward morning when a dingy gray was varnishing the sky, the cry of some startled bird focused Rainsford's attention in that direction. Something was coming through the bush, coming slowly, carefully, coming by the same winding way Rainsford had come. He flattened himself down on the limb and, through a screen of leaves almost as thick as tapestry, he watched. . . . That which was approaching was a man.

It was General Zaroff. He made his way along with his eyes fixed in utmost concentration on the ground before him. He paused, almost beneath the tree, dropped to his knees and studied the ground. Rainsford's impulse was to hurl himself down like a panther, but he saw that the general's right hand held something metallic--a small automatic pistol.

The hunter shook his head several times, as if he were puzzled. Then he straightened up and took from his case one of his black cigarettes; its pungent incenselike smoke floated up to Rainsford's nostrils.

Rainsford held his breath. The general's eyes had left the ground and were traveling inch by inch up the tree. Rainsford froze there, every muscle tensed for a spring. But the sharp eyes of the hunter stopped before they reached the limb where Rainsford lay; a smile spread over his brown face. Very deliberately he blew a smoke ring into the air; then he turned his back on the tree and walked carelessly away, back along the trail he had come. The swish of the underbrush against his hunting boots grew fainter and fainter.

The pent-up air burst hotly from Rainsford's lungs. His first thought made him feel sick and numb. The general could follow a trail through the woods at night; he could follow an extremely difficult trail; he must have uncanny powers; only by the merest chance had the Cossack failed to see his quarry.

Rainsford's second thought was even more terrible. It sent a shudder of cold horror through his whole being. Why had the general smiled? Why had he turned back?

Rainsford did not want to believe what his reason told him was true, but the truth was as evident as the sun that had by now pushed through the morning mists. The general was playing with him! The general was saving him for another day's sport! The Cossack was the cat; he was the mouse. Then it was that Rainsford knew the full meaning of terror.

"I will not lose my nerve. I will not."

He slid down from the tree, and struck off again into the woods. His face was set and he forced the machinery of his mind to function. Three hundred yards from his hiding place he stopped where a huge dead tree leaned precariously on a smaller, living one. Throwing off his sack of food, Rainsford took his knife from its sheath and began to work with all his energy.

The job was finished at last, and he threw himself down behind a fallen log a hundred feet away. He did not have to wait long. The cat was coming again to play with the mouse.

Following the trail with the sureness of a bloodhound came General Zaroff. Nothing escaped those searching black eyes, no crushed blade of grass, no bent twig, no mark, no matter how faint, in the moss. So intent was the Cossack on his stalking that he was upon the thing Rainsford had made before he saw it. His foot touched the protruding bough that was the trigger. Even as he touched it, the general sensed his danger and leaped back with the agility of an ape. But he was not quite quick enough; the dead tree, delicately adjusted to rest on the cut living one, crashed down and struck the general a glancing blow on the shoulder as it fell; but for his alertness, he must have been smashed beneath it. He staggered, but he did not fall; nor did he drop his revolver. He stood there, rubbing his injured shoulder, and Rainsford, with fear again gripping his heart, heard the general's mocking laugh ring through the jungle.

"Rainsford," called the general, "if you are within sound of my voice, as I suppose you are, let me congratulate you. Not many men know how to make a Malay mancatcher. Luckily for me I, too, have hunted in Malacca. You are proving interesting, Mr. Rainsford. I am going now to have my wound dressed; it's only a slight one. But I shall be back. I shall be back."

When the general, nursing his bruised shoulder, had gone, Rainsford took up his flight again. It was flight now, a desperate, hopeless flight, that carried him on for some hours. Dusk came, then darkness, and still he pressed on. The ground grew softer under his moccasins; the vegetation grew ranker, denser; insects bit him savagely.

Then, as he stepped forward, his foot sank into the ooze. He tried to wrench it back, but the muck sucked viciously at his foot as if it were a giant leech. With a violent effort, he tore his feet loose. He knew where he was now. Death Swamp and its quicksand.

His hands were tight closed as if his nerve were something tangible that someone in the darkness was trying to tear from his grip. The softness of the earth had given him an idea. He stepped back from the quicksand a dozen feet or so and, like some huge prehistoric beaver, he began to dig.

Rainsford had dug himself in in France when a second's delay meant death. That had been a placid pastime compared to his digging now. The pit grew deeper; when it was above his shoulders, he climbed out and from some hard saplings cut stakes and sharpened them to a fine point. These stakes he planted in the bottom of the pit with the points sticking up. With flying fingers he wove a rough carpet of weeds and branches and with it he covered the mouth of the pit. Then, wet with sweat and aching with tiredness, he crouched behind the stump of a lightning-charred tree.

He knew his pursuer was coming; he heard the padding sound of feet on the soft earth, and the night breeze brought him the perfume of the general's cigarette. It seemed to Rainsford that the general was coming with unusual swiftness; he was not feeling his way along, foot by foot. Rainsford, crouching there, could not see the general, nor could he see the pit. He lived a year in a minute. Then he felt an impulse to cry aloud with joy, for he heard the sharp crackle of the breaking branches as the cover of the pit gave way; he heard the sharp scream of pain as the pointed stakes found their mark. He leaped up from his place of concealment. Then he cowered back. Three feet from the pit a man was standing, with an electric torch in his hand.

"You've done well, Rainsford," the voice of the general called. "Your Burmese tiger pit has claimed one of my best dogs. Again you score. I think, Mr. Rainsford, I'll see what you can do against my whole pack. I'm going home for a rest now. Thank you for a most amusing evening."

At daybreak Rainsford, lying near the swamp, was awakened by a sound that made him know that he had new things to learn about fear. It was a distant sound, faint and wavering, but he knew it. It was the baying of a pack of hounds.

Rainsford knew he could do one of two things. He could stay where he was and wait. That was suicide. He could flee. That was postponing the inevitable. For a moment he stood there, thinking. An idea that held a wild chance came to him, and, tightening his belt, he headed away from the swamp.

The baying of the hounds drew nearer, then still nearer, nearer, ever nearer. On a ridge Rainsford climbed a tree. Down a watercourse, not a quarter of a mile away, he could see the bush moving. Straining his eyes, he saw the lean figure of General Zaroff; just ahead of him Rainsford made out another figure whose wide shoulders surged through the tall jungle weeds; it was the giant Ivan, and he seemed pulled forward by some unseen force; Rainsford knew that Ivan must be holding the pack in leash.

They would be on him any minute now. His mind worked frantically. He thought of a native trick he had learned in Uganda. He slid down the tree. He caught hold of a springy young sapling and to it he fastened his hunting knife, with the blade pointing down the trail; with a bit of wild grapevine he tied back the sapling. Then he ran for his life. The hounds raised their voices as they hit the fresh scent. Rainsford knew now how an animal at bay feels.

He had to stop to get his breath. The baying of the hounds stopped abruptly, and Rainsford's heart stopped too. They must have reached the knife.

He shinned excitedly up a tree and looked back. His pursuers had stopped. But the hope that was in Rainsford's brain when he climbed died, for he saw in the shallow valley that General Zaroff was still on his feet. But Ivan was not. The knife, driven by the recoil of the springing tree, had not wholly failed.

Rainsford had hardly tumbled to the ground when the pack took up the cry again.

"Nerve, nerve, nerve!" he panted, as he dashed along. A blue gap showed between the trees dead ahead. Ever nearer drew the hounds. Rainsford forced himself on toward that gap. He reached it. It was the shore of the sea. Across a cove he could see the gloomy gray stone of the chateau. Twenty feet below him the sea rumbled and hissed. Rainsford hesitated. He heard the hounds. Then he leaped far out into the sea. . . .

When the general and his pack reached the place by the sea, the Cossack stopped. For some minutes he stood regarding the blue-green expanse of water. He shrugged his shoulders. Then he sat down, took a drink of brandy from a silver flask, lit a cigarette, and hummed a bit from Madame Butterfly.

General Zaroff had an exceedingly good dinner in his great paneled dining hall that evening. With it he had a bottle of Pol Roger and half a bottle of Chambertin. Two slight annoyances kept him from perfect enjoyment. One was the thought that it would be difficult to replace Ivan; the other was that his quarry had escaped him; of course, the American hadn't played the game--so thought the general as he tasted his after-dinner liqueur. In his library he read, to soothe himself, from the works of Marcus Aurelius. At ten he went up to his bedroom. He was deliciously tired, he said to himself, as he locked himself in. There was a little moonlight, so, before turning on his light, he went to the window and looked down at the courtyard. He could see the great hounds, and he called, "Better luck another time," to them. Then he switched on the light.

A man, who had been hiding in the curtains of the bed, was standing there.

"Rainsford!" screamed the general. "How in God's name did you get here?"

"Swam," said Rainsford. "I found it quicker than walking through the jungle."

The general sucked in his breath and smiled. "I congratulate you," he said. "You have won the game."

Rainsford did not smile. "I am still a beast at bay," he said, in a low, hoarse voice. "Get ready, General Zaroff."

The general made one of his deepest bows. "I see," he said. "Splendid! One of us is to furnish a repast for the hounds. The other will sleep in this very excellent bed. On guard, Rainsford."

He had never slept in a better bed, Rainsford decided.

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The Most Dangerous Game--Richard Connell (1893-1949)

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This Web site is dedicated to the wonderful world of the short story and to all who enjoy reading shorts stories as I do. I will try to add a few short stories every month.

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Lesson Ideas and Rationale:
"Do You Hear the People Sing?" from Les Miserables--Lyrics
Students will read the lyrics while listening to the song.  This is useful for visual learners and will be beneficial when students go back and have to rewrite the lyrics.

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"Do You Hear the People Sing?" from Les Miserables (Texture Text)

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"Do You Hear the People Sing?" from Les Miserables (Texture Text)

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Rationale:
This song is about the French people fighting against the government, which is corrupt, and calling one another to action.  It is about the survival of a cause and how they will go about it.  This will serve as a comparable piece for students who appreciate music especially.  This differs from the informative and poetry pieces used so far, so it will also provide greater contrast.
Writing skill focus/aspect(s) of craft:
Students will write arguments and support them effectively with details.
Objectives:
Students will compare and contrast the purpose of this piece with those of the others.  The others are mainly to inform, some are to entertain, which this piece's purpose is to persuade others to come to action.  Students will understand that in order to create an effective persuasive piece they need a point or purpose for which they will persuade people, as well as reasons people should follow them.
Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.6.2
Determine a theme or central idea of a text and how it is conveyed through particular details; provide a summary of the text distinct from personal opinions or judgments.
Lesson Ideas:
Have students listen to the song at least once through.  Then, listen to the song and have students read the lyrics along with the song.  Have them also refer back to the summary of the background of the musical.  Students will analyze the lyrics as an argumentative piece.  Identify as a class how the singers try to get others to join them in their fight against the government.

Discuss together what the argument of this piece is.  How do the singers go about persuading others to follow them?  Is it an effective argument?  Why or why not?  Also talk about how they usually go about persuading someone.  What do you do?  When and why does it work?

Then, discuss with students how this song is about the theme of survival.  Have students cite examples in the lyrics or summary that discuss how the singers have survived or are surviving.

Compare this text with Ubiquitous. How do both have the same theme? How is it presented and supported in both pieces?

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Essentials for a DIY Bug Out Bag Infographic (Texture Text)

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Essentials for a DIY Bug Out Bag Infographic (Texture Text)

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Rationale:
This text is used in order to emphasize that there are many different types of informational texts.  It also serves to compare and contrast multiple genres and types of texts, and how they can have the same theme with different details to support the theme.  It also serves as a sample for later work students will do.  The infographic also gives an excellent example of how pictures, words, titles, headings, and other text features work together to provide information toward a particular theme.  Students should also make connections between this piece and Ubiquitous.
Writing skill focus/aspect(s) of craft:
Students will focus on how multiple text features work together to provide information to the reader. They will also focus on informing an audience in a way that is interesting and supported by details.
Objectives:
Students will be able to focus on the theme of the infographic and support the theme with details in the text.  They will also notice how multiple text features work together in order to get across a theme.
Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.6.2
Determine a theme or central idea of a text and how it is conveyed through particular details; provide a summary of the text distinct from personal opinions or judgments.
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RI.6.1
Cite textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from the text.
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RI.6.2
Determine a central idea of a text and how it is conveyed through particular details; provide a summary of the text distinct from personal opinions or judgments.
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RI.6.7
Integrate information presented in different media or formats (e.g., visually, quantitatively) as well as in words to develop a coherent understanding of a topic or issue.
Lesson Ideas:
Have students read the infographic.  Students will do this with a partner.  While reading, students will write short notes about anything they notice.  This could be text features, which we learned at the beginning of the year, information that stuck out to them, or the format of the writing piece itself. Students should also discuss how even informational text can have a theme. Students should cite examples supporting the theme of this text.

After students have written down what stuck out to them, they will meet with a discussion group. Students will share their thoughts about what stuck out to them. Then, students will share whole group while thoughts are written on the board.

Draw students' attention to the format of the piece.  It is not too crowded.  There is a large amount of information given, but not too much that it can't be remembered.  All information provided is short and to the point, as well as on task for the purpose.  Images are provided that are not detailed, but convey the message of each section.  Most of it is written in bullets.

Draw attention also to the text features.  The creator used images, large text for the title, and has subtitles.  They also used bullet points and graphs to convey their message.

Discuss with students the theme of the piece.  Students share how the individual parts support the theme of "survival."  Students also should argue whether or not nonfiction pieces, such as infographics, can actually have and support a theme, citing evidence from the text.

Finally, compare and contrast as a class the similarities and differences we notice between the way the theme is presented in the infographic versus the children's book.  Although both are informative text, how do the author/illustrators support the theme?

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Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.W.6.2
Write informative/explanatory texts to examine a topic and convey ideas, concepts, and information through the selection, organization, and analysis of relevant content.
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.W.6.2.A
Introduce a topic; organize ideas, concepts, and information, using strategies such as definition, classification, comparison/contrast, and cause/effect; include formatting (e.g., headings), graphics (e.g., charts, tables), and multimedia when useful to aiding comprehension.
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.W.6.6
Use technology, including the Internet, to produce and publish writing as well as to interact and collaborate with others; demonstrate sufficient command of keyboarding skills to type a minimum of three pages in a single sitting.
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RI.6.7
Integrate information presented in different media or formats (e.g., visually, quantitatively) as well as in words to develop a coherent understanding of a topic or issue.

Using easel.ly students will create an infographic as a "How to" informative writing assignment.

Below I have a link to the infographic I have created as a model for students.
http://www.easel.ly/viewEasel/4050034
Students should refer back to the Essentials for a DIY Bug Out Bag, as well as a model for their project.

Students should choose something they have survived or will have to survive.  For example, they could talk about school, the dentist, doctor's office, or the first time they did something. They should pull from their treasure chest if they need more ideas.

They should incorporate images, titles, headings, examples, and other text features to create their "How to."

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Rationale:
Students will watch the book trailer in order to gather understanding some of the background of the book.  Students will use this to add to their prior knowledge of the species discussed in the text.  It will also help them notice details that support the theme of survival, as these are highlighted in the video.  In the video, it even talks about the purpose of the book, which is the answer the question, "What does it take to survive?" This also provides a visual component, as well as intrigue.
Writing skill focus/aspect(s) of craft:
Students will focus on gathering ideas from their own background, eventually to choose one idea that focuses on the theme of survival for a final writing piece.  This will be expanded upon in the writing assignment.
Objectives:
Students will understand that when writing, there must be a purpose and a theme that the author wishes to convey to the reader through details and examples.  Students will also notice that sometimes authors convey themes directly to the reader, while others (which they will learn later) that do not directly tell the audience what the theme is, but rather hint at it.
Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RI.6.6
Determine an author's point of view or purpose in a text and explain how it is conveyed in the text.
Lesson Ideas:
Students will watch the Book Trailer for Ubiquitous: Celebrating Nature's Survivors by Joyce Sidman.  As a class, we will discuss what the trailer said was the purpose of the book (to answer the question, "What does it take to survive?"  Then, have students make predictions  about what type of creatures will be included in the text as survivors.  Talk about what it means to "survive."  We will also talk about what they already know about survival in any context.  Relate the trailer back to the author's note and website by talking about how we can see, even just in the trailer, how Sidman's background influenced her book.

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Book Trailer for Ubiquitous: Celebrating Nature's Survivors | Joyce Sidman

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Unit Goal

The goal of this unit is for students to understand how a  theme can be similar or the same across a variety of texts.  Students will also learn to write in a variety of modes based on a theme of their choice.  After teaching literary elements, such as setting, characterization, conflict, point of view, plot, and topic, I will teach theme.  Students will continue to learn and identify these literary elements in their reading and writing, but the main focus during this unit will be theme in reading and writing.
Our school is a learning focused school, so we use Unit Maps, UEQs, and LEQs to guide our instruction.
The unit essential question is:  "What is Theme?"
The lesson essential questions are:
"What is the difference between theme and topic in a text?"
"How is theme identified in the text?"
"How do I identify theme in different literature texts and cite my details to support the theme from that text?"
Students will focus on how the author utilizes details in each text to support a theme.  This will be further described for each piece of text.
As writers, students will learn to use details, support an argument, support a theme, and be able to write in several different modes to accomplish a purpose.
As readers, students will learn to compare and contrast various modes of writing to analyze a common theme.  Students will understand that what they read is typically supported by details, whether it is narrative, argumentative, informative, or poetry.  Their job as a reader is to be a "first class noticer," just as it is their job as a writer.  They want to be someone who notices and picks out what speaks to the audience.  That way, they can use it in their own writing.  Their job is also to find out how reading and writing are related to the author's experiences.  They should always ask themselves, "How can I use this in my writing?" and "How can I relate this reading to my life?"

Further goals of this unit will also be discussed in the rationales and lesson ideas throughout the unit.

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Ubiquitous by Joyce Sidman, Illustrated by Beckie Prange (Fulcrum Text)

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Ubiquitous by Joyce Sidman, Illustrated by Beckie Prange (Fulcrum Text)

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Rationale:
As the fulcrum text, the use of this text is to show that sometimes a text can use more than one mode of writing in order to accomplish the same purpose or theme.  The theme of survival is apparent in both the poetic writing and nonfiction writing in the text.  This book also serves as an anchor with which to compare the other texts provided in this unit.  Students will refer back to this text when comparing and contrasting how video, fiction, infographics, and poetry can all obtain the same goal of teaching the reader about a similar theme.  This text will also be used as a sample from which students can model their own poems. This book is a unique combination of poetry and nonfiction, which shows students that you do not always have to write in only one mode. It also provides a comparison for other texts chosen for the unit.
Writing skill focus/aspect(s) of craft:
The focus of this book will be for students to learn about the different types of poetry.  Students will also learn that they can pull from their own life experiences, as well as informational text in order to write poetry.  Finally, students will focus on using details to convey a certain theme in their writing, as Sidman does through all of her poems in the book.
Objectives:
Students will learn the differences between types of poetry.  Students will also identify details that support the theme of the book.  Students will identify examples from the author's life that may have influenced the writing of Ubiquitous.
Standards:
CCSS.ELA-LITERACY.RL.6.2
Determine a theme or central idea of a text and how it is conveyed through particular details; provide a summary of the text distinct from personal opinions or judgments.

Lesson Ideas:
Read aloud Ubiquitous to the class.  Discuss how this book is different from texts that we have read in the past (it uses both poetry and nonfiction writing).  Also discuss how the author's background inspired her to write the book.  What in her life interested her in writing a nonfiction text about creatures that can survive?

Tell students that one of the themes of this book is about the celebration of animals that are able to survive.  Have students identify several examples by talking to a partner about creatures mentioned in the text that are "survivors" and why they are survivors.

Then, reread the book. Through each page, have students say what they notice about each poem. Also, make not of specific strategies the author makes use of. For example, some poems are concrete, so they look like what they are about. Others are Diamante poems, so they are in the shape of a diamond, use -ing words, and do not have to rhyme or even use punctuation. Some poems rhyme and speak directly to the creature, while others are in the voice of the creature.

Finally, read again and have students identify great examples of descriptive words that Sidman uses that they can use in their own writing or base their writing on.  They can even add these to their treasure chests in the next step.