— Native Proverb.
There is, as the conjurers say, no deception1 about this tale. Jukes by accident stumbled upon a village that is well known to exist, though he is the only Englishman who has been there. A somewhat similar institution used to flourish on the outskirts3 of Calcutta, and there is a story that if you go into the heart of Bikanir, which is in the heart of the Great Indian Desert, you shall come across not a village but a town where the Dead who did not die but may not live have established their headquarters. And, since it is perfectly4 true that in the same Desert is a wonderful city where all the rich money lenders retreat after they have made their fortunes (fortunes so vast that the owners cannot trust even the strong hand of the Government to protect them, but take refuge in the waterless sands), and drive sumptuous5 C-spring barouches, and buy beautiful girls and decorate their palaces with gold and ivory and Minton tiles and mother-n’-pearl, I do not see why Jukes’s tale should not be true. He is a Civil Engineer, with a head for plans and distances and things of that kind, and he certainly would not take the trouble to invent imaginary traps. He could earn more by doing his legitimate7 work. He never varies the tale in the telling, and grows very hot and indignant when he thinks of the disrespectful treatment he received. He wrote this quite straightforwardly8 at first, but he has since touched it up in places and introduced Moral Reflections, thus:
In the beginning it all arose from a slight attack of fever. My work necessitated9 my being in camp for some months between Pakpattan and Muharakpur — a desolate10 sandy stretch of country as every one who has had the misfortune to go there may know. My coolies were neither more nor less exasperating11 than other gangs, and my work demanded sufficient attention to keep me from moping, had I been inclined to so unmanly a weakness.
On the 23d December, 1884, I felt a little feverish12. There was a full moon at the time, and, in consequence, every dog near my tent was baying it. The brutes13 assembled in twos and threes and drove me frantic15. A few days previously16 I had shot one loud-mouthed singer and suspended his carcass in terrorem about fifty yards from my tent-door. But his friends fell upon, fought for, and ultimately devoured17 the body; and, as it seemed to me, sang their hymns18 of thanksgiving afterward19 with renewed energy.
The light-heartedness which accompanies fever acts differently on different men. My irritation20 gave way, after a short time, to a fixed21 determination to slaughter22 one huge black and white beast who had been foremost in song and first in flight throughout the evening. Thanks to a shaking hand and a giddy head I had already missed him twice with both barrels of my shot-gun, when it struck me that my best plan would be to ride him down in the open and finish him off with a hog-spear. This, of course, was merely the semi-delirious23 notion of a fever patient; but I remember that it struck me at the time as being eminently24 practical and feasible.
I therefore ordered my groom25 to saddle Pornic and bring him round quietly to the rear of my tent. When the pony26 was ready, I stood at his head prepared to mount and dash out as soon as the dog should again lift up his voice. Pornic, by the way, had not been out of his pickets27 for a couple of days; the night air was crisp and chilly28; and I was armed with a specially29 long and sharp pair of persuaders with which I had been rousing a sluggish30 cob that afternoon. You will easily believe, then, that when he was let go he went quickly. In one moment, for the brute14 bolted as straight as a die, the tent was left far behind, and we were flying over the smooth sandy soil at racing31 speed.
In another we had passed the wretched dog, and I had almost forgotten why it was that I had taken the horse and hogspear.
The delirium32 of fever and the excitement of rapid motion through the air must have taken away the remnant of my senses. I have a faint recollection of standing34 upright in my stirrups, and of brandishing35 my hog-spear at the great white Moon that looked down so calmly on my mad gallop36; and of shout-log challenges to the camel-thorn bushes as they whizzed past. Once or twice I believe, I swayed forward on Pornic’s neck, and literally37 hung on by my spurs — as the marks next morning showed.
The wretched beast went forward like a thing possessed38, over what seemed to be a limitless expanse of moonlit sand. Next, I remember, the ground rose suddenly in front of us, and as we topped the ascent39 I saw the waters of the Sutlej shining like a silver bar below. Then Pornic blundered heavily on his nose, and we rolled together down some unseen slope.
I must have lost consciousness, for when I recovered I was lying on my stomach in a heap of soft white sand, and the dawn was beginning to break dimly over the edge of the slope down which I had fallen. As the light grew stronger I saw that I was at the bottom of a horseshoe-shaped crater40 of sand, opening on one side directly on to the shoals of the Sutlej. My fever had altogether left me, and, with the exception of a slight dizziness in the head, I felt no had effects from the fall over night.
Pornic, who was standing a few yards away, was naturally a good deal exhausted41, but had not hurt himself in the least. His saddle, a favorite polo one was much knocked about, and had been twisted under his belly42. It took me some time to put him to rights, and in the meantime I had ample opportunities of observing the spot into which I had so foolishly dropped.
At the risk of being considered tedious, I must describe it at length: inasmuch as an accurate mental picture of its peculiarities43 will be of material assistance in enabling the reader to understand what follows.
Imagine then, as I have said before, a horseshoe-shaped crater of sand with steeply graded sand walls about thirty-five feet high. (The slope, I fancy, must have been about 65 degrees.) This crater enclosed a level piece of ground about fifty yards long by thirty at its broadest part, with a crude well in the centre. Round the bottom of the crater, about three feet from the level of the ground proper, ran a series of eighty-three semi-circular ovoid, square, and multilateral holes, all about three feet at the mouth. Each hole on inspection44 showed that it was carefully shored internally with drift-wood and bamboos, and over the mouth a wooden drip-board projected, like the peak of a jockey’s cap, for two feet. No sign of life was visible in these tunnels, but a most sickening stench pervaded46 the entire amphitheatre — a stench fouler47 than any which my wanderings in Indian villages have introduced me to.
Having remounted Pornic, who was as anxious as I to get back to camp, I rode round the base of the horseshoe to find some place whence an exit would be practicable. The inhabitants, whoever they might be, had not thought fit to put in an appearance, so I was left to my own devices. My first attempt to “rush” Pornic up the steep sand-banks showed me that I had fallen into a trap exactly on the same model as that which the ant-lion sets for its prey49. At each step the shifting sand poured down from above in tons, and rattled50 on the drip-boards of the holes like small shot. A couple of ineffectual charges sent us both rolling down to the bottom, half choked with the torrents51 of sand; and I was constrained52 to turn my attention to the river-bank.
Here everything seemed easy enough. The sand hills ran down to the river edge, it is true, but there were plenty of shoals and shallows across which I could gallop Pornic, and find my way back to terra firma by turning sharply to the right or left. As I led Pornic over the sands I was startled by the faint pop of a rifle across the river; and at the same moment a bullet dropped with a sharp “whit” close to Pornic’s head.
There was no mistaking the nature of the missile — a regulation Martini–Henry “picket.” About five hundred yards away a country-boat was anchored in midstream; and a jet of smoke drifting away from its bows in the still morning air showed me whence the delicate attention had come. Was ever a respectable gentleman in such an impasse53? The treacherous54 sand slope allowed no escape from a spot which I had visited most involuntarily, and a promenade55 on the river frontage was the signal for a bombardment from some insane native in a boat. I’m afraid that I lost my temper very much indeed.
Another bullet reminded me that I had better save my breath to cool my porridge; and I retreated hastily up the sands and back to the horseshoe, where I saw that the noise of the rifle had drawn56 sixty-five human beings from the badger-holes which I had up till that point supposed to be untenanted. I found myself in the midst of a crowd of spectators — about forty men, twenty women, and one child who could not have been more than five years old. They were all scantily57 clothed in that salmon-colored cloth which one associates with Hindu mendicants, and, at first sight, gave me the impression of a band of loathsome58 fakirs. The filth59 and repulsiveness60 of the assembly were beyond all description, and I shuddered61 to think what their life in the badger-holes must be.
Even in these days, when local self-government has destroyed the greater part of a native’s respect for a Sahib, I have been accustomed to a certain amount of civility from my inferiors, and on approaching the crowd naturally expected that there would be some recognition of my presence. As a matter of fact there was; but it was by no means what I had looked for.
The ragged62 crew actually laughed at me — such laughter I hope I may never hear again. They cackled, yelled, whistled, and howled as I walked into their midst; some of them literally throwing themselves down on the ground in convulsions of unholy mirth. In a moment I had let go Pornic’s head, and, irritated beyond expression at the morning’s adventure, commenced cuffing64 those nearest to me with all the force I could. The wretches65 dropped under my blows like nine-pins, and the laughter gave place to wails66 for mercy; while those yet untouched clasped me round the knees, imploring67 me in all sorts of uncouth68 tongues to spare them.
In the tumult69, and just when I was feeling very much ashamed of myself for having thus easily given way to my temper, a thin, high voice murmured in English from behind my shoulder: “Sahib! Sahib! Do you not know me? Sahib, it is Gunga Dass, the telegraph-master.”
I spun70 round quickly and faced the speaker.
Gunga Dass, (I have, of course, no hesitation71 in mentioning the man’s real name) I had known four years before as a Deccanee Brahmin loaned by the Punjab Government to one of the Khalsia States. He was in charge of a branch telegraph-office there, and when I had last met him was a jovial72, full-stomached, portly Government servant with a marvelous capacity for making bad puns in English — a peculiarity73 which made me remember him long after I had forgotten his services to me in his official capacity. It is seldom that a Hindu makes English puns.
Now, however, the man was changed beyond all recognition. Caste-mark, stomach, slate-colored continuations, and unctuous74 speech were all gone. I looked at a withered75 skeleton, turban-less and almost naked, with long matted hair and deep-set codfish-eyes. But for a crescent-shaped scar on the left cheek — the result of an accident for which I was responsible I should never have known him. But it was indubitably Gunga Dass, and — for this I was thankfull — an English-speaking native who might at least tell me the meaning of all that I had gone through that day.
The crowd retreated to some distance as I turned toward the miserable76 figure, and ordered him to show me some method of escaping from the crater. He held a freshly plucked crow in his hand, and in reply to my question climbed slowly on a platform of sand which ran in front of the holes, and commenced lighting77 a fire there in silence. Dried bents, sand-poppies, and driftwood burn quickly; and I derived79 much consolation80 from the fact that he lit them with an ordinary sulphur-match. When they were in a bright glow, and the crow was nearly spitted in front thereof, Gunga Dass began without a word of preamble81:
“There are only two kinds of men, Sar. The alive and the dead. When you are dead you are dead, but when you are alive you live.” (Here the crow demanded his attention for an instant as it twirled before the fire in danger of being burned to a cinder82.) “If you die at home and do not die when you come to the ghat to be burned you come here.”
The nature of the reeking83 village was made plain now, and all that I had known or read of the grotesque84 and the horrible paled before the fact just communicated by the ex-Brahmin. Sixteen years ago, when I first landed in Bombay, I had been told by a wandering Armenian of the existence, somewhere in India, of a place to which such Hindus as had the misfortune to recover from trance or catalepsy were conveyed and kept, and I recollect33 laughing heartily85 at what I was then pleased to consider a traveler’s tale.
Sitting at the bottom of the sand-trap, the memory of Watson’s Hotel, with its swinging punkahs, white-robed attendants, and the sallow-faced Armenian, rose up in my mind as vividly86 as a photograph, and I burst into a loud fit of laughter. The contrast was too absurd!
Gunga Dass, as he bent78 over the unclean bird, watched me curiously87. Hindus seldom laugh, and his surroundings were not such as to move Gunga Dass to any undue88 excess of hilarity89. He removed the crow solemnly from the wooden spit and as solemnly devoured it. Then he continued his story, which I give in his own words:
“In epidemics90 of the cholera91 you are carried to be burned almost before you are dead. When you come to the riverside the cold air, perhaps, makes you alive, and then, if you are only little alive, mud is put on your nose and mouth and you die conclusively92. If you are rather more alive, more mud is put; but if you are too lively they let you go and take you away. I was too lively, and made protestation with anger against the indignities93 that they endeavored to press upon me. In those days I was Brahmin and proud man. Now I am dead man and eat”— here he eyed the well-gnawed breast bone with the first sign of emotion that I had seen in him since we met —“crows, and other things. They took me from my sheets when they saw that I was too lively and gave me medicines for one week, and I survived successfully. Then they sent me by rail from my place to Okara Station, with a man to take care of me; and at Okara Station we met two other men, and they conducted we three on camels, in the night, from Okara Station to this place, and they propelled me from the top to the bottom, and the other two succeeded, and I have been here ever since two and a half years. Once I was Brahmin and proud man, and now I eat crows.”
“There is no way of getting out?”
“None of what kind at all. When I first came I made experiments frequently and all the others also, but we have always succumbed94 to the sand which is precipitated95 upon our heads.”
“But surely,” I broke in at this point, “the river-front is open, and it is worth while dodging96 the bullets; while at night”— I had already matured a rough plan of escape which a natural instinct of selfishness forbade me sharing with Gunga Dass. He, however, divined my unspoken thought almost as soon as it was formed; and, to my intense astonishment98, gave vent6 to a long low chuckle99 of derision — the laughter, be it understood, of a superior or at least of an equal.
“You will not”— he had dropped the Sir completely after his opening sentence —“make any escape that way. But you can try. I have tried. Once only.”
The sensation of nameless terror and abject100 fear which I had in vain attempted to strive against overmastered me completely. My long fast — it was now close upon ten o’clock, and I had eaten nothing since tiffin on the previous day — combined with the violent and unnatural101 agitation102 of the ride had exhausted me, and I verily believe that, for a few minutes, I acted as one mad. I hurled103 myself against the pitiless sand-slope I ran round the base of the crater, blaspheming and praying by turns. I crawled out among the sedges of the river-front, only to be driven back each time in an agony of nervous dread104 by the rifle-bullets which cut up the sand round me — for I dared not face the death of a mad dog among that hideous105 crowd — and finally fell, spent and raving106, at the curb107 of the well. No one had taken the slightest notion of an exhibition which makes me blush hotly even when I think of it now.
Two or three men trod on my panting body as they drew water, but they were evidently used to this sort of thing, and had no time to waste upon me. The situation was humiliating. Gunga Dass, indeed, when he had banked the embers of his fire with sand, was at some pains to throw half a cupful of fetid water over my head, an attention for which I could have fallen on my knees and thanked him, but he was laughing all the while in the same mirthless, wheezy key that greeted me on my first attempt to force the shoals. And so, in a semi-comatose condition, I lay till noon. Then, being only a man after all, I felt hungry, and intimated as much to Gunga Dass, whom I had begun to regard as my natural protector. Following the impulse of the outer world when dealing108 with natives, I put my hand into my pocket and drew out four annas. The absurdity109 of the gift struck me at once, and I was about to replace the money.
Gunga Dass, however, was of a different opinion. “Give me the money,” said he; “all you have, or I will get help, and we will kill you!” All this as if it were the most natural thing in the world!
A Briton’s first impulse, I believe, is to guard the contents of his pockets; but a moment’s reflection convinced me of the futility110 of differing with the one man who had it in his power to make me comfortable; and with whose help it was possible that I might eventually escape from the crater. I gave him all the money in my possession, Rs. 9–8-5 — nine rupees eight annas and five pie — for I always keep small change as bakshish when I am in camp. Gunga Dass clutched the coins, and hid them at once in his ragged loin cloth, his expression changing to something diabolical111 as he looked round to assure himself that no one had observed us.
“Now I will give you something to eat,” said he.
What pleasure the possession of my money could have afforded him I am unable to say; but inasmuch as it did give him evident delight I was not sorry that I had parted with it so readily, for I had no doubt that he would have had me killed if I had refused. One does not protest against the vagaries112 of a den2 of wild beasts; and my companions were lower than any beasts. While I devoured what Gunga Dass had provided, a coarse chapatti and a cupful of the foul48 well-water, the people showed not the faintest sign of curiosity — that curiosity which is so rampant113, as a rule, in an Indian village.
I could even fancy that they despised me. At all events they treated me with the most chilling indifference114, and Gunga Dass was nearly as bad. I plied115 him with questions about the terrible village, and received extremely unsatisfactory answers. So far as I could gather, it had been in existence from time immemorial — whence I concluded that it was at least a century old — and during that time no one had ever been known to escape from it. [I had to control myself here with both hands, lest the blind terror should lay hold of me a second time and drive me raving round the crater.] Gunga Dass took a malicious116 pleasure in emphasizing this point and in watching me wince117. Nothing that I could do would induce him to tell me who the mysterious “They” were.
“It is so ordered,” he would reply, “and I do not yet know any one who has disobeyed the orders.”
“Only wait till my servants find that I am missing,” I retorted, “and I promise you that this place shall be cleared off the face of the earth, and I’ll give you a lesson in civility, too, my friend.”
“Your servants would be torn in pieces before they came near this place; and, besides, you are dead, my dear friend. It is not your fault, of course, but none the less you are dead and buried.”
At irregular intervals118 supplies of food, I was told, were dropped down from the land side into the amphitheatre, and the inhabitants fought for them like wild beasts. When a man felt his death coming on he retreated to his lair119 and died there. The body was sometimes dragged out of the hole and thrown on to the sand, or allowed to rot where it lay.
The phrase “thrown on to the sand” caught my attention, and I asked Gunga Dass whether this sort of thing was not likely to breed a pestilence120.
“That,” said he with another of his wheezy chuckles121, “you may see for yourself subsequently. You will have much time to make observations.”
Whereat, to his great delight, I winced122 once more and hastily continued the conversation: “And how do you live here from day to day? What do you do?” The question elicited123 exactly the same answer as before — coupled with the information that “this place is like your European heaven; there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage.”
Gunga Dass had been educated at a Mission School, and, as he himself admitted, had he only changed his religion “like a wise man,” might have avoided the living grave which was now his portion. But as long as I was with him I fancy he was happy.
Here was a Sahib, a representative of the dominant124 race, helpless as a child and completely at the mercy of his native neighbors. In a deliberate lazy way he set himself to torture me as a schoolboy would devote a rapturous half-hour to watching the agonies of an impaled125 beetle126, or as a ferret in a blind burrow127 might glue himself comfortably to the neck of a rabbit. The burden of his conversation was that there was no escape “of no kind whatever,” and that I should stay here till I died and was “thrown on to the sand.” If it were possible to forejudge the conversation of the Damned on the advent63 of a new soul in their abode128, I should say that they would speak as Gunga Dass did to me throughout that long afternoon. I was powerless to protest or answer; all my energies being devoted129 to a struggle against the inexplicable130 terror that threatened to overwhelm me again and again. I can compare the feeling to nothing except the struggles of a man against the overpowering nausea131 of the Channel passage — only my agony was of the spirit and infinitely132 more terrible.
As the day wore on, the inhabitants began to appear in full strength to catch the rays of the afternoon sun, which were now sloping in at the mouth of the crater. They assembled in little knots, and talked among themselves without even throwing a glance in my direction. About four o’clock, as far as I could judge Gunga Dass rose and dived into his lair for a moment, emerging with a live crow in his hands. The wretched bird was in a most draggled and deplorable condition, but seemed to be in no way afraid of its master. Advancing cautiously to the river front, Gunga Dass stepped from tussock to tussock until he had reached a smooth patch of sand directly in the line of the boat’s fire. The occupants of the boat took no notice. Here he stopped, and, with a couple of dexterous133 turns of the wrist, pegged134 the bird on its back with outstretched wings. As was only natural, the crow began to shriek135 at once and beat the air with its claws. In a few seconds the clamor had attracted the attention of a bevy136 of wild crows on a shoal a few hundred yards away, where they were discussing something that looked like a corpse137. Half a dozen crows flew over at once to see what was going on, and also, as it proved, to attack the pinioned138 bird. Gunga Dass, who had lain down on a tussock, motioned to me to be quiet, though I fancy this was a needless precaution. In a moment, and before I could see how it happened, a wild crow, who had grappled with the shrieking139 and helpless bird, was entangled140 in the latter’s claws, swiftly disengaged by Gunga Dass, and pegged down beside its companion in adversity. Curiosity, it seemed, overpowered the rest of the flock, and almost before Gunga Dass and I had time to withdraw to the tussock, two more captives were struggling in the upturned claws of the decoys. So the chase — if I can give it so dignified142 a name — continued until Gunga Dass had captured seven crows. Five of them he throttled143 at once, reserving two for further operations another day. I was a good deal impressed by this, to me, novel method of securing food, and complimented Gunga Dass on his skill.
“It is nothing to do,” said he. “Tomorrow you must do it for me. You are stronger than I am.”
This calm assumption of superiority upset me not a little, and I answered peremptorily144: “Indeed, you old ruffian! What do you think I have given you money for?”
“Very well,” was the unmoved reply. “Perhaps not tomorrow, nor the day after, nor subsequently; but in the end, and for many years, you will catch crows and eat crows, and you will thank your European God that you have crows to catch and eat.”
I could have cheerfully strangled him for this; but judged it best under the circumstances to smother145 my resentment146. An hour later I was eating one of the crows; and, as Gunga Dass had said, thanking my God that I had a crow to eat. Never as long as I live shall I forget that evening meal. The whole population were squatting147 on the hard sand platform opposite their dens148, huddled149 over tiny fires of refuse and dried rushes. Death, having once laid his hand upon these men and forborne to strike, seemed to stand aloof150 from them now; for most of our company were old men, bent and worn and twisted with years, and women aged141 to all appearance as the Fates themselves. They sat together in knots and talked — God only knows what they found to discuss — in low equable tones, curiously in contrast to the strident babble151 with which natives are accustomed to make day hideous. Now and then an access of that sudden fury which had possessed me in the morning would lay hold on a man or woman; and with yells and imprecations the sufferer would attack the steep slope until, baffled and bleeding, he fell back on the platform incapable152 of moving a limb. The others would never even raise their eyes when this happened, as men too well aware of the futility of their fellows’ attempts and wearied with their useless repetition. I saw four such outbursts in the course of the evening.
Gunga Dass took an eminently business-like view of my situation, and while we were dining — I can afford to laugh at the recollection now, but it was painful enough at the time — propounded153 the terms on which he would consent to “do” for me. My nine rupees eight annas, he argued, at the rate of three annas a day, would provide me with food for fifty-one days, or about seven weeks; that is to say, he would be willing to cater154 for me for that length of time. At the end of it I was to look after myself. For a further consideration — videlicet my boots — he would be willing to allow me to occupy the den next to his own, and would supply me with as much dried grass for bedding as he could spare.
“Very well, Gunga Dass,” I replied; “to the first terms I cheerfully agree, but, as there is nothing on earth to prevent my killing155 you as you sit here and taking everything that you have” (I thought of the two invaluable156 crows at the time), “I flatly refuse to give you my boots and shall take whichever den I please.”
The stroke was a bold one, and I was glad when I saw that it had succeeded. Gunga Dass changed his tone immediately, and disavowed all intention of asking for my boots. At the time it did not strike me as at all strange that I, a Civil Engineer, a man of thirteen years’ standing in the Service, and, I trust, an average Englishman, should thus calmly threaten murder and violence against the man who had, for a consideration it is true, taken me under his wing. I had left the world, it seemed, for centuries. I was as certain then as I am now of my own existence, that in the accursed settlement there was no law save that of the strongest; that the living dead men had thrown behind them every canon of the world which had cast them out; and that I had to depend for my own life on my strength and vigilance alone. The crew of the ill-fated Mignonette are the only men who would understand my frame of mind. “At present,” I argued to myself, “I am strong and a match for six of these wretches. It is imperatively157 necessary that I should, for my own sake, keep both health and strength until the hour of my release comes — if it ever does.”
Fortified158 with these resolutions, I ate and drank as much as I could, and made Gunga Dass understand that I intended to be his master, and that the least sign of insubordination on his part would be visited with the only punishment I had it in my power to inflict159 — sudden and violent death. Shortly after this I went to bed. That is to say, Gunga Dass gave me a double armful of dried bents which I thrust down the mouth of the lair to the right of his, and followed myself, feet foremost; the hole running about nine feet into the sand with a slight downward inclination160, and being neatly161 shored with timbers. From my den, which faced the river-front, I was able to watch the waters of the Sutlej flowing past under the light of a young moon and compose myself to sleep as best I might.
The horrors of that night I shall never forget. My den was nearly as narrow as a coffin162, and the sides had been worn smooth and greasy163 by the contact of innumerable naked bodies, added to which it smelled abominably164. Sleep was altogether out of question to one in my excited frame of mind. As the night wore on, it seemed that the entire amphitheatre was filled with legions of unclean devils that, trooping up from the shoals below, mocked the unfortunates in their lairs165.
Personally I am not of an imaginative temperament166 — very few Engineers are — but on that occasion I was as completely prostrated167 with nervous terror as any woman. After half an hour or so, however, I was able once more to calmly review my chances of escape. Any exit by the steep sand walls was, of course, impracticable. I had been thoroughly168 convinced of this some time before. It was possible, just possible, that I might, in the uncertain moonlight, safely run the gauntlet of the rifle shots. The place was so full of terror for me that I was prepared to undergo any risk in leaving it. Imagine my delight, then, when after creeping stealthily to the river-front I found that the infernal boat was not there. My freedom lay before me in the next few steps!
By walking out to the first shallow pool that lay at the foot of the projecting left horn of the horseshoe, I could wade169 across, turn the flank of the crater, and make my way inland. Without a moment’s hesitation I marched briskly past the tussocks where Gunga Dass had snared170 the crows, and out in the direction of the smooth white sand beyond. My first step from the tufts of dried grass showed me how utterly171 futile172 was any hope of escape; for, as I put my foot down, I felt an indescribable drawing, sucking motion of the sand below. Another moment and my leg was swallowed up nearly to the knee. In the moonlight the whole surface of the sand seemed to be shaken with devilish delight at my disappointment. I struggled clear, sweating with terror and exertion173, back to the tussocks behind me and fell on my face.
My only means of escape from the semicircle was protected with a quicksand!
How long I lay I have not the faintest idea; but I was roused at last by the malevolent174 chuckle of Gunga Dass at my ear “I would advise you, Protector of the Poor” (the ruffian was speaking English) “to return to your house. It is unhealthy to lie down here. Moreover, when the boat returns, you will most certainly be rifled at.” He stood over me in the dim light of the dawn, chuckling175 and laughing to himself. Suppressing my first impulse to catch the man by the neck and throw him on to the quicksand, I rose sullenly176 and followed him to the platform below the burrows177.
Suddenly, and futilely178 as I thought while I spoke97, I asked: “Gunga Dass, what is the good of the boat if I can’t get out anyhow?” I recollect that even in my deepest trouble I had been speculating vaguely179 on the waste of ammunition180 in guarding an already well protected foreshore.
Gunga Dass laughed again and made answer: “They have the boat only in daytime. It is for the reason that there is a way. I hope we shall have the pleasure of your company for much longer time. It is a pleasant spot when you have been here some years and eaten roast crow long enough.”
I staggered, numbed181 and helpless, toward the fetid burrow allotted182 to me, and fell asleep. An hour or so later I was awakened183 by a piercing scream — the shrill184, high-pitched scream of a horse in pain. Those who have once heard that will never forget the sound. I found some little difficulty in scrambling185 out of the burrow. When I was in the open, I saw Pornic, my poor old Pornic, lying dead on the sandy soil. How they had killed him I cannot guess. Gunga Dass explained that horse was better than crow, and “greatest good of greatest number is political maxim186. We are now Republic, Mister Jukes, and you are entitled to a fair share of the beast. If you like, we will pass a vote of thanks. Shall I propose?”
Yes, we were a Republic indeed! A Republic of wild beasts penned at the bottom of a pit, to eat and fight and sleep till we died. I attempted no protest of any kind, but sat down and stared at the hideous sight in front of me. In less time almost than it takes me to write this, Pornic’s body was divided, in some unclear way or other; the men and women had dragged the fragments on to the platform and were preparing their normal meal. Gunga Dass cooked mine. The almost irresistible187 impulse to fly at the sand walls until I was wearied laid hold of me afresh, and I had to struggle against it with all my might. Gunga Dass was offensively jocular till I told him that if he addressed another remark of any kind whatever to me I should strangle him where he sat. This silenced him till silence became insupportable, and I bade him say something.
“You will live here till you die like the other Feringhi,” he said, coolly, watching me over the fragment of gristle that he was gnawing188.
“What other Sahib, you swine? Speak at once, and don’t stop to tell me a lie.”
“He is over there,” answered Gunga Dass, pointing to a burrow-mouth about four doors to the left of my own. “You can see for yourself. He died in the burrow as you will die, and I will die, and as all these men and women and the one child will also die.”
“For pity’s sake tell me all you know about him. Who was he? When did he come, and when did he die?”
This appeal was a weak step on my part. Gunga Dass only leered and replied: “I will not — unless you give me something first.”
Then I recollected189 where I was, and struck the man between the eyes, partially190 stunning191 him. He stepped down from the platform at once, and, cringing192 and fawning193 and weeping and attempting to embrace my feet, led me round to the burrow which he had indicated.
“I know nothing whatever about the gentleman. Your God be my witness that I do not. He was as anxious to escape as you were, and he was shot from the boat, though we all did all things to prevent him from attempting. He was shot here.” Gunga Dass laid his hand on his lean stomach and bowed to the earth.
“Well, and what then? Go on!”
“And then — and then, Your Honor, we carried him in to his house and gave him water, and put wet cloths on the wound, and he laid down in his house and gave up the ghost.”
“In how long? In how long?”
“About half an hour, after he received his wound. I call Vishnu to witness,” yelled the wretched man, “that I did everything for him. Everything which was possible, that I did!”
He threw himself down on the ground and clasped my ankles. But I had my doubts about Gunga Dass’s benevolence194, and kicked him off as he lay protesting.
“I believe you robbed him of everything he had. But I can find out in a minute or two. How long was the Sahib here?”
“Nearly a year and a half. I think he must have gone mad. But hear me swear Protector of the Poor! Won’t Your Honor hear me swear that I never touched an article that belonged to him? What is Your Worship going to do?”
I had taken Gunga Dass by the waist and had hauled him on to the platform opposite the deserted195 burrow. As I did so I thought of my wretched fellow-prisoner’s unspeakable misery196 among all these horrors for eighteen months, and the final agony of dying like a rat in a hole, with a bullet-wound in the stomach. Gunga Dass fancied I was going to kill him and howled pitifully. The rest of the population, in the plethora197 that follows a full flesh meal, watched us without stirring.
“Go inside, Gunga Dass,” said I, “and fetch it out.”
I was feeling sick and faint with horror now. Gunga Dass nearly rolled off the platform and howled aloud.
“But I am Brahmin, Sahib — a high-caste Brahmin. By your soul, by your father’s soul, do not make me do this thing!”
“Brahmin or no Brahmin, by my soul and my father’s soul, in you go!” I said, and, seizing him by the shoulders, I crammed198 his head into the mouth of the burrow, kicked the rest of him in, and, sitting down, covered my face with my hands.
At the end of a few minutes I heard a rustle199 and a creak; then Gunga Dass in a sobbing200, choking whisper speaking to himself; then a soft thud — and I uncovered my eyes.
The dry sand had turned the corpse entrusted201 to its keeping into a yellow-brown mummy. I told Gunga Dass to stand off while I examined it. The body — clad in an olive-green hunting-suit much stained and worn, with leather pads on the shoulders — was that of a man between thirty and forty, above middle height, with light, sandy hair, long mustache, and a rough unkempt beard. The left canine202 of the upper jaw203 was missing, and a portion of the lobe204 of the right ear was gone. On the second finger of the left hand was a ring — a shield-shaped bloodstone set in gold, with a monogram205 that might have been either “B.K.” or “B.L.” On the third finger of the right hand was a silver ring in the shape of a coiled cobra, much worn and tarnished206. Gunga Dass deposited a handful of trifles he had picked out of the burrow at my feet, and, covering the face of the body with my handkerchief, I turned to examine these. I give the full list in the hope that it may lead to the identification of the unfortunate man:
1. Bowl of a briarwood pipe, serrated at the edge; much worn and blackened; bound with string at the crew.
2. Two patent-lever keys; wards207 of both broken.
3. Tortoise-shell-handled penknife, silver or nickel, name-plate, marked with monogram “B.K.”
4. Envelope, postmark undecipherable, bearing a Victorian stamp, addressed to “Miss Mon —” (rest illegible208)—“ham”—“nt.”
5. Imitation crocodile-skin notebook with pencil. First forty-five pages blank; four and a half illegible; fifteen others filled with private memoranda209 relating chiefly to three persons — a Mrs.L. Singleton, abbreviated210 several times to “Lot Single,” “Mrs. S. May,” and “Garmison,” referred to in places as “Jerry” or “Jack.”
6. Handle of small-sized hunting-knife. Blade snapped short. Buck’s horn, diamond cut, with swivel and ring on the butt211; fragment of cotton cord attached.
It must not be supposed that I inventoried212 all these things on the spot as fully45 as I have here written them down. The notebook first attracted my attention, and I put it in my pocket with a view of studying it later on.
The rest of the articles I conveyed to my burrow for safety’s sake, and there being a methodical man, I inventoried them. I then returned to the corpse and ordered Gunga Dass to help me to carry it out to the river-front. While we were engaged in this, the exploded shell of an old brown cartridge213 dropped out of one of the pockets and rolled at my feet. Gunga Dass had not seen it; and I fell to thinking that a man does not carry exploded cartridge-cases, especially “browns,” which will not bear loading twice, about with him when shooting. In other words, that cartridge-case had been fired inside the crater. Consequently there must be a gun somewhere. I was on the verge214 of asking Gunga Dass, but checked myself, knowing that he would lie. We laid the body down on the edge of the quicksand by the tussocks. It was my intention to push it out and let it be swallowed up-the only possible mode of burial that I could think of. I ordered Gunga Dass to go away.
Then I gingerly put the corpse out on the quicksand. In doing so, it was lying face downward, I tore the frail215 and rotten khaki shooting-coat open, disclosing a hideous cavity in the back. I have already told you that the dry sand had, as it were, mummified the body. A moment’s glance showed that the gaping216 hole had been caused by a gun-shot wound; the gun must have been fired with the muzzle217 almost touching218 the back. The shooting-coat, being intact, had been drawn over the body after death, which must have been instantaneous. The secret of the poor wretch’s death was plain to me in a flash. Some one of the crater, presumably Gunga Dass, must have shot him with his own gun — the gun that fitted the brown cartridges219. He had never attempted to escape in the face of the rifle-fire from the boat.
I pushed the corpse out hastily, and saw it sink from sight literally in a few seconds. I shuddered as I watched. In a dazed, half-conscious way I turned to peruse220 the notebook. A stained and discolored slip of paper had been inserted between the binding221 and the back, and dropped out as I opened the pages. This is what it contained: “Four out from crow-clump: three left; nine out; two right; three back; two left; fourteen out; two left; seven out; one left; nine back; two right; six back; four right; seven back.” The paper had been burned and charred222 at the edges. What it meant I could not understand. I sat down on the dried bents turning it over and over between my fingers, until I was aware of Gunga Dass standing immediately behind me with glowing eyes and outstretched hands.
“Have you got it?” he panted. “Will you not let me look at it also? I swear that I will return it.”
“Got what? Return what?” asked.
“That which you have in your hands. It will help us both.” He stretched out his long, bird-like talons223, trembling with eagerness.
“I could never find it,” he continued. “He had secreted224 it about his person. Therefore I shot him, but nevertheless I was unable to obtain it.”
Gunga Dass had quite forgotten his little fiction about the rifle-bullet. I received the information perfectly calmly. Morality is blunted by consorting225 with the Dead who are alive.
“What on earth are you raving about? What is it you want me to give you?”
“The piece of paper in the notebook. It will help us both. Oh, you fool! You fool! Can you not see what it will do for us? We shall escape!”
His voice rose almost to a scream, and he danced with excitement before me. I own I was moved at the chance of my getting away.
“Don’t skip! Explain yourself. Do you mean to say that this slip of paper will help us? What does it mean?”
“Read it aloud! Read it aloud! I beg and I pray you to read it aloud.”
I did so. Gunga Dass listened delightedly, and drew an irregular line in the sand with his fingers.
“See now! It was the length of his gun-barrels without the stock. I have those barrels. Four gun-barrels out from the place where I caught crows. Straight out; do you follow me? Then three left. Ah! how well I remember when that man worked it out night after night. Then nine out, and so on. Out is always straight before you across the quicksand. He told me so before I killed him.”
“But if you knew all this why didn’t you get out before?”
“I did not know it. He told me that he was working it out a year and a half ago, and how he was working it out night after night when the boat had gone away, and he could get out near the quicksand safely. Then he said that we would get away together. But I was afraid that he would leave me behind one night when he had worked it all out, and so I shot him. Besides, it is not advisable that the men who once get in here should escape. Only I, and I am a Brahmin.”
The prospect226 of escape had brought Gunga Dass’s caste back to him. He stood up, walked about and gesticulated violently. Eventually I managed to make him talk soberly, and he told me how this Englishman had spent six months night after night in exploring, inch by inch, the passage across the quicksand; how he had declared it to be simplicity227 itself up to within about twenty yards of the river bank after turning the flank of the left horn of the horseshoe. This much he had evidently not completed when Gunga Dass shot him with his own gun.
In my frenzy228 of delight at the possibilities of escape I recollect shaking hands effusively229 with Gunga Dass, after we had decided230 that we were to make an attempt to get away that very night. It was weary work waiting throughout the afternoon.
About ten o’clock, as far as I could judge, when the Moon had just risen above the lip of the crater, Gunga Dass made a move for his burrow to bring out the gun-barrels whereby to measure our path. All the other wretched inhabitants had retired231 to their lairs long ago. The guardian232 boat drifted downstream some hours before, and we were utterly alone by the crow-clump. Gunga Dass, while carrying the gun-barrels, let slip the piece of paper which was to be our guide. I stooped down hastily to recover it, and, as I did so, I was aware that the diabolical Brahmin was aiming a violent blow at the back of my head with the gun-barrels. It was too late to turn round. I must have received the blow somewhere on the nape of my neck. A hundred thousand fiery233 stars danced before my eyes, and I fell forwards senseless at the edge of, the quicksand.
When I recovered consciousness, the Moon was going down, and I was sensible of intolerable pain in the back of my head. Gunga Dass had disappeared and my mouth was full of blood. I lay down again and prayed that I might die without more ado. Then the unreasoning fury which I had before mentioned, laid hold upon me, and I staggered inland toward the walls of the crater. It seemed that some one was calling to me in a whisper —“Sahib! Sahib! Sahib!” exactly as my bearer used to call me in the morning I fancied that I was delirious until a handful of sand fell at my feet. Then I looked up and saw a head peering down into the amphitheatre — the head of Dunnoo, my dog-boy, who attended to my collies. As soon as he had attracted my attention, he held up his hand and showed a rope. I motioned, staggering to and fro for the while, that he should throw it down. It was a couple of leather punkah-ropes knotted together, with a loop at one end. I slipped the loop over my head and under my arms; heard Dunnoo urge something forward; was conscious that I was being dragged, face downward, up the steep sand slope, and the next instant found myself choked and half fainting on the sand hills overlooking the crater. Dunnoo, with his face ashy grey in the moonlight, implored234 me not to stay but to get back to my tent at once.
It seems that he had tracked Pornic’s footprints fourteen miles across the sands to the crater; had returned and told my servants, who flatly refused to meddle235 with any one, white or black, once fallen into the hideous Village of the Dead; whereupon Dunnoo had taken one of my ponies236 and a couple of punkah-ropes, returned to the crater, and hauled me out as I have described.
To cut a long story short, Dunnoo is now my personal servant on a gold mohur a month — a sum which I still think far too little for the services he has rendered. Nothing on earth will induce me to go near that devilish spot again, or to reveal its whereabouts more clearly than I have done. Of Gunga Dass I have never found a trace, nor do I wish to do. My sole motive237 in giving this to be published is the hope that some one may possibly identify, from the details and the inventory238 which I have given above, the corpse of the man in the olive-green hunting-suit.
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1
deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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3
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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straightforwardly
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| adv.正直地 | |
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necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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18
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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pickets
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| 罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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30
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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crater
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| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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42
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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45
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
fouler
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| adj.恶劣的( foul的比较级 )；邪恶的；难闻的；下流的 | |
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48
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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49
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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50
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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51
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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52
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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53
impasse
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| n.僵局；死路 | |
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54
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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55
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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56
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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57
scantily
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| adv.缺乏地；不充足地；吝啬地；狭窄地 | |
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58
loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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59
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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60
repulsiveness
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61
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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62
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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63
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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64
cuffing
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| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的现在分词 )；袖口状白血球聚集 | |
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65
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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66
wails
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| 痛哭，哭声( wail的名词复数 ) | |
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67
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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68
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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69
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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70
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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71
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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72
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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73
peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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74
unctuous
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| adj.油腔滑调的，大胆的 | |
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75
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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76
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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77
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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78
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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79
derived
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|
| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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80
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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81
preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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82
cinder
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| n.余烬，矿渣 | |
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83
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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84
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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85
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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86
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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87
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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88
undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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89
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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90
epidemics
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| n．流行病 | |
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91
cholera
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| n.霍乱 | |
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92
conclusively
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| adv.令人信服地，确凿地 | |
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93
indignities
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| n.侮辱，轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
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94
succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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95
precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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96
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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97
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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98
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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99
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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100
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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101
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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102
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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103
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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104
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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105
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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106
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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107
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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108
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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109
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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110
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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111
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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112
vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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113
rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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114
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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115
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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116
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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117
wince
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|
| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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118
intervals
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|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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119
lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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120
pestilence
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| n.瘟疫 | |
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121
chuckles
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的名词复数 ) | |
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122
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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123
elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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124
dominant
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|
| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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125
impaled
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| 钉在尖桩上( impale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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127
burrow
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|
| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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128
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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129
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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130
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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131
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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132
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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133
dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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134
pegged
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| v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的过去式和过去分词 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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135
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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136
bevy
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| n.一群 | |
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137
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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138
pinioned
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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139
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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140
entangled
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|
| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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141
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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142
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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143
throttled
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| v.扼杀( throttle的过去式和过去分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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144
peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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145
smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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146
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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147
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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148
dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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149
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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150
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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151
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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152
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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153
propounded
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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154
cater
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| vi.(for/to)满足，迎合；(for)提供饮食及服务 | |
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155
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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156
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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157
imperatively
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| adv.命令式地 | |
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158
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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159
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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160
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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161
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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162
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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163
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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164
abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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165
lairs
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| n.（野兽的）巢穴，窝( lair的名词复数 )；（人的）藏身处 | |
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166
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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167
prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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168
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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169
wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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170
snared
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| v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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172
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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173
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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174
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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175
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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176
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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177
burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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178
futilely
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| futile（无用的）的变形； 干 | |
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179
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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180
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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181
numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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182
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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183
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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184
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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185
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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186
maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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187
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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188
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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189
recollected
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|
| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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190
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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191
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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192
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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fawning
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| adj.乞怜的，奉承的v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的现在分词 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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194
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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plethora
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| n.过量，过剩 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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199
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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201
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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canine
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| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
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203
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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lobe
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| n.耳垂，（肺，肝等的）叶 | |
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monogram
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| n.字母组合 | |
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206
tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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207
wards
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| 区( ward的名词复数 )； 病房； 受监护的未成年者； 被人照顾或控制的状态 | |
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illegible
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| adj.难以辨认的，字迹模糊的 | |
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memoranda
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| n. 备忘录, 便条 名词memorandum的复数形式 | |
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abbreviated
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| adj. 简短的，省略的 动词abbreviate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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inventoried
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| vt.编制…的目录（inventory的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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217
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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219
cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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peruse
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| v.细读，精读 | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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223
talons
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| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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secreted
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| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的过去式和过去分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
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consorting
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| v.结伴( consort的现在分词 )；交往；相称；调和 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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effusively
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| adv.变溢地，热情洋溢地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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236
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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238
inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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