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         ! ,             ( B2)      .   ,                  ,      ,     .





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  ,2025

 , ,2025



ISBN978-5-0068-7558-6

     Ridero







My name is Edward Dunn Malone, reporter for the Daily Gazette, and Iwas twenty-three when Ifell madly fell inlove with Gladys Hungerford.

    ,    Daily Gazette,     ,      .



She was so beautiful that the air around her seemed toshimmer.

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One spring evening, after Ihad walked her home under the lilac trees, Idared tospeak.

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Gladys, Isaid, my voice shaking, Ilove you. Iwould give my life for you.

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She looked at me with those deep violet eyes and smiled, but it was not akind smile.

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Ned, she said softly, my heart already belongs tosomeone else.

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My world collapsed.

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Who? Imanaged.

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Not toany living man, she answered. My dreams are ofalittle too strong for ordinary men. Iwill only marry ahero someone whose name is spoken with awe all over the world. Do something great, Ned. Become famous. Then come back.

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That night Iwalked the streets ofLondon until dawn.

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Bymorning Iknew what Ihad todo.

ʠ  ,   .



Iwent straight toMcArdle, the news editor ofthe Gazette, ared-haired Scotsman with aheart like granite.

   ,   Gazette,    .



Iwant the most dangerous assignment you have, Isaid.

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He raised one eyebrow.

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Be careful what you wish for, laddie. Ive just the thing. Professor Challenger has been beating reporters like drums. He threw one down the stairs yesterday. Go interview him if you come back alive, youll have your headline.

  , . Ӡ     .    ,  .     .       ,   .



And that is how Ifirst met George Edward Challenger.

Ƞ      .



He lived inagloomy house inKensington, guarded byhis small, fierce wife who tried tostop me at the door.

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Ipushed past her and found the professor inhis study ahuge man, chest like abarrel, beard like an Assyrian king, eyes that burned with fury.

       堖  ,  ,  , ,   , ,  .



Who are you? he roared.

 ? .



Edward Malone, Daily Gazette.

 , Daily Gazette.



His face turned purple.

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Another leech! Out!

  !!



Istood my ground.

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Sir, the public has aright toknow whether you are agreat scientist or amadman.

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For amoment Ithought he would murderme.

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Then, slowly, aterrible smile spread across his face.

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Brave boy, he said. Ilike spirit. Sit down.

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He began totalk.

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At first it was only insults about journalists, about modern science, about the stupidity ofthe world.

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Then, suddenly, he leaned forward.

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Malone, he said, voice low, have you ever heard ofthe Amazon?

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Ofcourse.

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Have you ever dreamed that somewhere, high above the jungle, there might still exist aplateau where time stopped millions ofyears ago?

 - ,  -      ,      ?



My heart began torace.

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He opened adrawer and took out aphotograph.

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It showed arough sketch ahuge winged creature flying over cliffs.

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This, he said, was drawn byan American artist who fell from acliff inSouth America. Before he died, he gave this tome. That creature is apterodactyl. Alive. Ihave been there. Ihave seen them with my own eyes.

,  ,   ,     .      .   . .   .     .



Icould not speak.

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But the world laughs at me, he continued bitterly. They call me aliar. So Iam going back tobring proof that no one can deny. And you, young man, may come withme.

   ,   .    .      ,    . Ƞ,  ,   .



Just like that, my fate was decided.

Ƞ     .



Aweek later Challenger summoned me again.

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This time there were three other men inthe room.

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Professor Summerlee, thin, sarcastic, white-bearded the most famous skeptic inEngland.

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Lord John Roxton, lean, sunburned, eyes like ahawk the greatest hunter and adventurer alive.

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And Challenger himself, filling the room like athunderstorm.

Ƞ ,  ,  .



Gentlemen, Challenger announced, we leave for South America inone week. Our goal: Maple White Land the lost plateau.

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Lord Roxton told us the story.

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Years earlier an American artist named Maple White had gone up the Amazon, never returned.

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His friend, apriest, later found his body at the foot ofan impossible cliff.

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InMaple Whites sketchbook was the drawing ofthe pterodactyl and beyond the cliff, strange shapes moving among giant trees.

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We sailed from Liverpool on asmall steamer.

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For weeks we steamed up the mighty Amazon, then its tributaries, deeper and deeper into green hell.

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The heat was crushing, the air thick with insects.

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At night caimans bellowed along the banks, and once ahuge anaconda swam beside our canoe, longer than the boat itself.

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Finally we reached amiserable Indian village.

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There we hired two half-breed guides Gomez and Manuel and anegro named Zambo, the most loyal soul Ievermet.

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We also took with us four mules and acage ofpigeons for messages.

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Then began the march.

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For twelve days we hacked our way through jungle so dense that the sun never touched the ground.

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Everything was wet, rotting, alive.

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Spiders as big as plates watched us from webs.

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Once apoisonous snake dropped from abranch straight onto Summerlees shoulder; Roxton shot its head off before it could strike.

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At last, one dawn we sawit.

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Agigantic cliff rose straight out ofthe jungle red basalt columns, five thousand feet high, absolutely vertical.

    頖   ,    ,  .



At the top, faint through the morning mist, we could see the outline ofaplateau covered ingreen forest.

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Maple White Land.

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But how toreachit?

  ?



We walked for miles along the base.

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Nowhere was there apath.

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Then Roxton pointed.

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Asingle tall tree agiant chestnut grew close tothe cliff.

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Higher up, afallen pinnacle ofrock leaned against the wall like anatural bridge.

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That is our way, Roxton said quietly.

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We worked like madmen.

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With axes we cut steps into the chestnut trunk.

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We dragged ropes, pulleys, food, guns, ammunition.

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When everything was ready, Challenger went first surprisingly agile for his size then Summerlee, then Roxton, thenme.

   ,   젖     ࠖ  ,  , .



Halfway up, disaster.

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Gomez, the half-breed, had abrother who had died on one ofRoxtons expeditions years before.

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Now, high on the tree, he took his revenge.

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With an axe he cut the ropes that held the bridge ofrock.

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We heard aterrible grinding sound.

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The whole pinnacle shifted, groaned, then crashed down into the abyss, taking the tree withit.

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We were marooned on the plateau.

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Far below we saw Gomez and Manuel laughing, waving their hats.

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Then they vanished into the jungle.

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Zambo remained on the ground, loyal Zambo.

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He built afire every night so we could see it atiny star ofhope five thousand feet below.

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We turned our faces tothe unknown world.

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The first thing that struck us was the silence aheavy, listening silence.

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Then, slowly, sounds began: strange cries, deep roarings far away, the flapping ofenormous wings.

    :  ,   ,   .



We pushed forward through forest older than any on earth.

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The trees were colossal tree-ferns sixty feet high, palms, giant creepers thick as amans body.

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The air smelled sweet and heavy, like agreenhouse.

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Night fell quickly.

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We made camp inasmall clearing, built athorn-bush fence called azariba, lit ahuge fire.

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We took turns guarding.

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At about two inthe morning it happened.

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Iwas on watch.

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The fire had burnedlow.

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		Suddenly the bushes opposite me shook violently.
		     .

		Something enormous stepped into the firelight.
		-    .

		An iguanodon.
		.

It was the size ofan elephant, with ahuge hump on its back, skin like alizards, abeak like aparrot.

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It stared at us with mild, stupid eyes, then began peacefully eating leaves from atall gingko tree.

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We sat frozen.

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Even Challengers beard seemed tobristle withawe.

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When dawn came the creature wandered away, leaving us shaking with excitement.

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We had found the Lost World.

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For days we explored.

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We saw herds ofiguanodons grazing inswamps.

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We watched stegosaurs with their great plated backs moving slowly like living tanks.

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We saw allosaurs huge carnivores thirty feet long, walking on powerful hind legs, tiny forearms curled like akangaroos.

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Once atyrannosaur (Challenger insisted on the name later) passed within fifty yards, its teeth like daggers, its breath ahot wind ofdeath.

  (    )   ,     , 堖   .



But the most terrifying were the pterodactyls.

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They nested on rocky cliffs above poisonous swamps.

      .



We found awhole colony leathery wings, long beaks full ofteeth, eyes that glowed red inthe dark.

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Their smell was unbearable, like rotten fish.

   ,   .



One evening we were caught inthe open byaflock.

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They swooped down screaming.

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Roxton fired both barrels one fell with abroken wing, thrashing horribly.

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The rest attacked us with beaks and claws.

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Summerlee received adeep cut on the forehead.

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We barely reached safety inthick bushes.

      .



Then we found the lake.

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Inthe centre ofthe plateau was alarge blue lake.

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On its shores lived the most extraordinary creatures ofall huge toad-like monsters with eyes on stalks, bodies twenty feet across.

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Challenger named them stegosaurus aquaticus, but we simply called them the toads from hell.

    ,      .



They sat half-submerged, watching everything with cold intelligence.

   ,    .



But the greatest shock was yet tocome.

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One morning we followed fresh human footprints broad, five-toed, unmistakably ape-like.

      젖 ,  ,  .



Then, inaclearing, we saw them.

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Ape-men.

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They were about five feet tall, covered inreddish hair, faces half-human, half-animal.

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They walked half-upright, carried clubs ofstone and wood.

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There were about fifty ofthem, males, females, children.

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They were cooking something over afire something that had once been human.

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We hid and watched, hearts pounding.

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That night they attacked our camp.

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They came silently through the darkness, dozens ofthem.

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We fought like demons.

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Roxtons rifle spoke again and again.

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Challenger swung an axe like aViking.

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Summerlee, bleeding from adozen wounds, fired his shotgun into their faces.

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Iremember the terrible smell ofblood and hair burning inthe fire.

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When dawn came, fifteen ape-men lay dead.

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The rest fled howling.

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But they had taken something our supplies, most ofour ammunition, and worst ofall Professor Summerlee.

  -  ,   , ,     .



We found his trail leading toward tall cliffs inthe centre ofthe plateau.

   ,     .



There, incaves high above the ground, lived the ape-men.

,    ,  .



And there, imprisoned inacave, we later learned, were the true humans ofthe plateau atribe ofIndians who had lived here for centuries, constantly at war with the ape-men.

Ƞ,  ,    ,      ,   ,   .




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