"Can you tell me where to find the Agent?" he asked.
The man had been staring at him intently as he approached, and now, after a pause that made Burton wonder whether he had been understood, the man cocked his thumb in the direction of a long frame building on the other side of the track. A man was standing6 in the doorway7, watching the daily pageant8 of civilization represented by the passing train, and Burton approached him. Immediately the man to whom he had spoken slipped from the platform and ran, with a long lope, toward the teepees on the right.
Burton presented himself to the Indian Agent, introducing himself as an amateur on the subject of Indian basketry, who wished to add to his knowledge by studying the art among the Indians on the Reservation.
The Agent, whose name was Welch, evidently found some difficulty in adjusting his own point of view to that of his visitor, but Burton finally succeeded in convincing him that he was at least sane10 enough to receive the benefit of the doubt, and that there really were people who cared to know about what the Indians made for their own use.
"I especially want to see the older squaws who remember how things were done in the old days, before they were put on Reservations," said Burton.
"Old Ehimmeshunka would about fill that bill, I guess," said Welch. "She's old, all right. She's Washitonka's squaw. Their daughter is Pahrunta, and she takes baskets and fancy things like that on the railroad train to sell."
"I should like to see them," said Burton eagerly. They certainly were the very people he wanted to see. Those were the names Ben Bussey had mentioned.
"All right; come along."
"Can they speak English?"
"Washitonka speaks fairly well. Ehimmeshunka doesn't need to, of course. Pahrunta knows a few words, enough to enable her to get about by herself. She probably understands a good deal more than she shows. They are that way."
"I shall be greatly obliged if you will act as interpreter."
"Certainly. Hello, here's Washitonka now!"
An old Indian had entered the room so noiselessly that neither of the white men had heard him. He was a striking figure, erect11 in spite of the years he carried, and wrapped in a blanket which looked as dignified12 as any Roman toga. In spite of the stolidity13 of his expression, there was unmistakable curiosity in the look he bent14 upon Burton.
"What you want, Washitonka?" asked Welch, in a tone of indulgent jocularity.
The Indian continued to look at Burton with a frank interest that did not approach rudeness or lessen15 his dignity. It was hard to say whether his curiosity was friendly or not. He seemed a mixture of the child and the Sphinx.
"How!" said Burton, with friendly intent.
"How!" responded Washitonka. Then he turned to Welch and made some observations in a very guttural voice.
"He says he has come to see the man who has a charmed life," said Welch with a laugh.
"Ask how he knows that I have a charmed life."
After some colloquy16, which Burton wished vainly that he could understand, Welch explained.
"He says he knew, when he saw the smoke rise this morning, that a man who bore a charmed life would come to his teepee today."
"Oh, did he!" exclaimed Burton. "Well, tell him that when I lit my cigar this morning I knew by the way the smoke rose that I should meet today a wise old man with a silver tongue, who would tell me many wonderful tales of the old days when the Indian and the paleface hunted the buffalo17 together and were brothers."
Welch laughed, and after a moment's stony18 impassivity Washitonka relaxed into a grin which betrayed his understanding of the white man's tongue.
"Good talk," he said briefly19.
"Will you explain to him that I want to find out about basket-weaving?" said Burton.
Welch evidently found it expedient20 to use Washitonka's own language for elaborate disquisitions of this sort. At the end of his exposition, Washitonka approached a step toward Burton and spoke9 with grave dignity.
"Bacco," was what he said.
Burton had come prepared for this emergency, and he produced a package of tobacco, artfully allowing it to be seen that there were other packages still in reserve.
"Come," said Washitonka, and stalked off toward the sunburnt teepees toward which the stray lounger at the station had gone.
By this time the little village was very much alive. Curiosity had brought the women and the children to the doors, where they stood shyly staring at the stranger. The men scorned to show open curiosity, but they all seemed to have business out of doors at that moment.
Washitonka's teepee was somewhat larger than the others, but there was nothing else about it to suggest the dignity of the chief. A pile of folded blankets and garments filled one corner, and cooking utensils21 were piled in another. But Burton had neither eyes nor thoughts for the accessories of the place. His attention was wholly given to the little old woman, broad-faced, brown-skinned, who sat by the doorway stringing beads22. Her face was wrinkled like a piece of leather, and her coarse black hair was drawn23 down behind her ears and tied with gay cord. Her small black eyes followed Burton's motions as an animal's might. She was so complete and so unusual a picture that Burton would very gladly have made the trip just to see her.
Back of her in the teepee a woman was moving about her work,--the daughter, Pahrunta. Burton smiled at her and she smiled back in recognition.
Welch said something in their own tongue, and the younger woman waddled24 across the place and brought out a large basket holding the wares25 that she took to the town to sell. They were mostly trumpery26 things,--impossible birch-bark baskets and bead-worked match-holders and collar-boxes supposed to appeal to the taste of the tourist. But Burton saw, with thankfulness, that the large basket which held the things was woven with the same strong, peculiar27 twist that he had studied so carefully in the example he already owned.
"Ask them who made the large basket," he said, while he handled the gay trivialities with careless hand.
Welch duly translated the inquiry28, and said: "She did,--Ehimmeshunka here. Made it long ago, she says."
"Ask her if she will teach me to make one like it."
This, translated, provoked only laughter from Pahrunta and a grunt29 from Washitonka. The old, old woman looked on without expression.
"Tell her I will pay her," said Burton, showing money.
It took a good deal of explaining to get the idea really understood, and then Ehimmeshunka shook her head.
"She says the winter has come into her fingers and they are like twigs30 when the frost is on them," he explained, with some difficulty. "Now she can only put beads on a string like a child."
"Ask if she ever taught any one else when her fingers were young."
Before Welch could translate this question, Washitonka spoke a curt31 word to the woman. His intonation32 and look needed no translation. Burton guessed quickly enough that it was an injunction of silence, and this was confirmed when Ehimmeshunka's grin faded into stolidity and she took up her work again.
"Old Wash says she never taught anybody," said Welch.
This response and the look he had intercepted33 gave Burton pause. Was he being purposely blocked in his investigation34? He did not wish to prejudice his case by too much urgency, so he deemed it best to drop the matter for the time. He gave Ehimmeshunka a coin, and turned away with Welch.
"What do you know yourself about these people?" he asked the Agent.
"Well, not much. You see, I've just come."
"You know their language."
"Oh, yes. I've been in the service for some time, but I was assigned here only about a month ago, when the other Agent died. I haven't seen all the Indians that belong to me yet. They're away somewhere, hunting or loafing, or riding their wild ponies over the prairies just for fun. No head for business."
"Then you know nothing of the personal history of Washitonka or who his friends are?"
"Not a scrap35."
"I'm sorry," said Burton. "I wanted to learn something about the early days when they saw more or less of the early settlers."
"Writing a book?"
"You might call it so," said Burton non-committally. (Certainly he might, if he wanted to.)
"That old chap, Washitonka, ought to have stories to tell," said Welch, with interest, "but he seems as close as a clam36. That's an Indian trait. They won't talk personalities37."
"What did he mean by saying I had a charmed life?" asked Burton, returning to a point that had puzzled him.
"Don't know. Said that you cheated death. They have a way of giving names like that. Have you had any narrow escapes?"
"How would Washitonka know it, if I had?"
"Oh, there you get me! Perhaps Pahrunta heard talk of it."
But the suggestion did not satisfy Burton. He had the feeling that Washitonka knew more than he should--unless posted. Yet how could he have been posted? It made him feel that he must go warily38.
In the afternoon he visited other teepees under Welch's chaperonage, and tried to establish a wide-spread reputation as a collector of curios and of stories. He did not go near Washitonka's teepee. He followed the same plan of procedure the next day,--and it took more self-control than he often had occasion to call upon. He gained one point by this method, however: he definitely satisfied himself that if he did not get the information he wanted in Washitonka's teepee, he might as well abandon the idea of getting it anywhere on the Reservation. There was no one else, in this little colony at any rate, who dated back to the time he wanted to probe. When he asked why there were no old people, the Agent answered tersely39: "Smallpox40."
That curse of the winter had swept the nomadic41 tribes again and again in their days of wandering, and only the younger and stronger had survived to find the comparative protection of the Reservation life. And to this younger generation the past had either no value or too emotional a value. They had forgotten its traditions, or else they refused to tell them to the stranger of today. Burton's inquiry was specific and definite: Had any white men been among them and learned how to weave baskets? To them it was a foolish question,--so foolish that they could with difficulty be persuaded to make a definite answer. Why should any white man wish to weave baskets? Could he not buy better baskets in the stores, not to mention buckets of beautiful tin? Nobody made baskets but old Ehimmeshunka.
On the third day he returned, with as casual an air as was possible, to Washitonka's teepee. Ehimmeshunka was sitting in the sunshine by the door. Washitonka was smoking some of Burton's tobacco, with an air of obliviousness42, but when Burton placed himself beside Ehimmeshunka and began talking in a low voice to his interpreter, Welch, the old Indian promptly43 laid aside his dignity and came over to the little group by the door. Clearly he was not going to allow any conversation in his teepee without his knowledge.
There was little opportunity, however, for any asides, since Burton was under the necessity of talking through an interpreter. It was so cumbersome44 a method that he resolved to abandon his small attempt at diplomacy45 and strike boldly for what he wanted.
"Ask Washitonka if he knows Dr. Underwood. I am a friend of his," Burton said to Welch. He watched the faces of the Indians as this was translated, but he could see no glimmer46 of responsiveness in any face. Possibly it was merely because he did not understand the language of their unfamiliar47 faces any more than he did their unfamiliar tongue.
"Tell them I know Selby," he continued, while he watched Pahrunta. At the sound of the name she looked toward him with blank directness and Burton rejoiced. He had established communication! But when Welch repeated the question in Indian, it brought no response from any one. Washitonka merely grunted48. Pahrunta turned away and spat49 upon the ground, but that might have had no significance.
"They don't seem to know him, either," said Welch.
"Ask the woman what she calls the man who struck her arm in the station when she spoke to him, and spilled her baskets."
But Pahrunta would not answer. She listened as though she heard nothing and turned away as though they had not spoken.
"Is it possible that she is still friendly to Selby?" he wondered. "Is she so much the savage50 that she admires him the more for striking her?"
Welch yawned, as though the game were losing its interest. "The train is about due," he said, rising. "I guess I'd better go and meet it, in case there is any mail."
He wandered off, leaving Burton to his own resources. Washitonka, apparently51 satisfied that he was not dangerous without an interpreter, lapsed53 back into dignified unconcern and tobacco smoke. He looked the Sphinx more than ever.
Burton was, indeed, helpless. Should he confess himself beaten and take the afternoon train back to High Ridge54? He was still debating the question when Welch returned,--the train from the south having come in while he was tossing his mental penny.
"A letter for you!" Welch called, while still at a distance, as though the arrival of a letter were a great event.
It was from Ralston, and Burton read it with interest.
"Everything is so quiet along this Potomac," Ralston wrote, "that Watson is getting more pessimistic about Henry Underwood than ever. He has long felt that to lock Henry up would be the quickest means of giving High Ridge a long-needed rest, and now he feels confirmed in his faith--or in his unfaith, if you take that point of view. I have been tempted55 to stir up a little local ruction myself, just to give your side some moral support,--but I am not sure it would be moral support under those circumstances. How is that?"
"I'd better go back," mused56 Burton, as he folded the letter. "I'm accomplishing nothing here, and I'm wasting time." To Welch he said aloud: "Tell them I am going back to High Ridge this afternoon."
Welch made the announcement. After an undemonstrative silence of some moments, Washitonka put a question which Welch translated.
"He asks if you will see the man who lies on his back all the time."
"Ben Bussey?"
Washitonka caught the name and nodded.
"Yes, I shall see Ben Bussey," said Burton. "What then?"
Washitonka went to a side of the teepee and from a pile of folded blankets he drew out a red-stone pipe, beautifully carved. With an air of dignity that would have done credit to a Spanish grandee57, he carried it to Burton and placed it in his hands with a guttural injunction which Welch translated.
"He wants you to give it to the cripple. He says he taught the boy to carve pipes many moons ago, and Ben's father ate of his corn and slept under his buffalo robe like a brother."
"Thank him for the pipe," dictated58 Burton. "Tell him I will carry it safely to Ben Bussey, the man who cannot walk, and it will speak to him of old friends. Ask him if he knows when Ben's father died."
But instantly the mask of reserve dropped over the bronze features that for a moment had looked human.
"He doesn't remember," said Welch.
There was no use in waiting for a lapse52 into memory when ignorance was so persistently59 fostered. Burton rose.
"Ask Washitonka to accept from me this tobacco," he said. "It is in farewell. And for the women in his teepee I have brought presents." He took from his pocket two small hand-mirrors, and presented one to Ehimmeshunka and one to Pahrunta. Old Ehimmeshunka received hers with the delight of a child. She looked in it and laughed, and laughed and laughed, wrinkling up her queer old face in a manner wonderful to see. Pahrunta received hers in silence. She indeed hid it at once in her dress with an eagerness that showed its ownership was prized, but she did not show the excitability of Ehimmeshunka. Instead, she looked steadily60 at Burton. While he was making his final and formal adieux to Washitonka, he several times caught Pahrunta's serious eyes fixed61 upon him. But when he left the teepee she was busy over her work and gave no heed62 to him.
The train went out at four. Half an hour before it was due, Burton carried his bag over to the station platform. Then, merely from the habit of motion, he began pacing up and down the length of the board walk, waiting for the train. He was not in a cheerful mood, for his expedition had been a failure, and he was going back to a situation no more promising63 than he had left. As he turned on his heel at the extreme end of the walk, a blinding flash of light struck his eyes and made him wince64. Where in the world did it come from? As he looked about, it again flashed dazzlingly into his eyes. A recollection of the way in which, as a youngster, he had indulged in the pleasing diversion of bewildering the passers in the street with a properly manipulated bit of looking-glass, helped him now to form a theory as to the present phenomena65. Some urchin66 was having fun with the paleface! He looked carefully about, but there was no one in sight, nor was there seemingly any place on the bare prairie for a mischievous67 child to hide,--unless it was behind that leaning fence which served the railroad for a snow break in winter but which was now overgrown with the rank weeds of the summer. As he turned a suspicious eye upon it, he caught a momentary68 flash, instantly hidden. With a smile on his lips he sauntered down to the place, expecting to pull out from among the weeds some lithe69, wriggling70, brown-skinned boy, but to his utter amaze he found, crouching71 among the tall weeds, the heavy-featured Pahrunta, in her hand the mirror he had given her an hour before, and which she had used to attract his attention. Her attitude and actions showed plainly that she was anxious not to be seen from the teepees, and with a quick understanding of her desire for concealment72 Burton walked on a few steps, lit a cigar, and then slowly sauntered back as far as the fence and stopped near the place where she crouched73.
"Did you want to tell me something?" he asked, speaking distinctly and hoping she might be more of a linguist74 than had yet appeared.
Such seemed, indeed, to be the case.
"You--friend," she said in a throaty guttural, helping75 her halting speech by pointing her finger at him.
"I am your friend,--yes," said Burton.
But she shook her head.
"You--friend--man--" In a rapid pantomime she struck her own arm, shrank from the blow, and threw a handful of leaves before her which she followed with her eye as they blew away. It was so vivid a sketch76 of the scene at the station at High Ridge when Selby struck down her outstretched hand and sent her baskets flying down the steps before her that Burton was thrilled by the skill of it. She wished to know if he were a friend of Selby's! For a moment he hesitated as to the policy of his answer; then, hoping the truth might prevail, he shook his head.
"No. Enemy. I follow on his trail. Some day scalp him." He felt that it was the proper place for pantomime on his part, but feared his ability. But she seemed to catch his meaning, and to his great relief she smiled in satisfaction.
"Washitonka friend," she said, pointing to the teepee. "Me no friend." She spat upon the ground. "Washitonka hide. Me show." And from the folds of her garment she suddenly brought out a small black object. It was an old-fashioned daguerreotype77 case. She opened it and held it toward Burton, but when he would have taken it into his own hand she drew back.
"See, no take," she said. Evidently she would not trust it out of her own possession.
He bent down to look. The case held, on one side, one of those curious early portraits which can only be seen when the light is right, and then come out with the startling distinctness of ghost-pictures. He turned her hand, which clutched the case tightly, until he caught the picture. Two young men--rather, a boy and a young man--looked out from behind the glass with the odd effect of an older fashion in hair and dress. The older of the two had the close-set eyes and narrow face that characterized Selby. It was Selby as he might have been twenty odd years ago,--a young man under twenty. The other might, he thought, be Ben Bussey. Of that he could not be sure, but he felt eagerly sure of Selby. He put his finger on the face and looked at Pahrunta.
"Selby?" he said. "The man that struck you?"
She shut the case, hastily hid it in her dress, and drew back among her concealing78 weeds. With the skill and noiselessness of an animal, she slunk in among them so that Burton himself was hardly able to locate her with his eye. There was no use in following her. If he had learned nothing else, he had learned that it is not possible to get from an Indian any information except what he wishes to give.
At that moment the whistle announced the approach of the train. Pahrunta had timed her confession79 so that he could not press her farther if he wanted to. He walked back to the platform, picked up his bag, and swung himself on. As they puffed80 past the weed-grown snow-break a moment later, he looked out, but no sign could he catch of the skulking81 figure he knew to be hidden there. But on the chance he tossed a gleaming coin backward toward it.
He found a quiet seat and gave himself up to analyzing82 the situation. Just what had he gained? A few disconnected facts. He pieced them together.
1. Old Ehimmeshunka did use in her basket work the peculiar knot he had identified in the woven lilac withes and in the knotted cord that bound Hadley.
2. Washitonka was either naturally very secretive or he had been warned not to talk. The latter theory was strengthened by the fact that he had seemed to know something about the two attacks on Burton, and by Pahrunta's fear of discovery.
3. Pahrunta had broken the imposed silence, under the spur of resentment83 toward Selby, and revealed the fact that there was the link of an ancient friendship between Selby and the red man. The presentation of the portrait as a souvenir could mean nothing else.
4. Washitonka had most carefully refrained from mentioning Selby, although he had avowed84 his friendship for Bussey, Ben's father.
5. Yet Dr. Underwood had spoken of Bussey and young Selby as companions in the wild early days. They had hunted together and together had roamed among the Indians. As civilization caught up with them, Selby had dropped the ways of the Indian, while Bussey, more of a Bohemian by nature, had gone with them when they went. But in the beginning they had all been intimate, and the fact that Ben (if it were Ben, as seemed likely) had been taken in the same picture with Selby, showed that the intimacy85 had extended over a number of years. Dr. Underwood, too, had formed acquaintances among the Indians, but his day, apparently, was later.
Had old Ehimmeshunka, who wove baskets like no one else in the tribe, taught her skill to young Selby when he went about among them in the garb86 of that old portrait, trading calicoes "warranted to fade in the first wash," as the doctor said, for their mink87 and muskrat88 skins? That was the prime question, and he could hardly claim that it was certainly answered. The opportunity had existed,--that much he had learned. Had it been used?
"By Jove!" said Burton, suddenly struck by an idea. He leaned forward, seeing nothing, for a long time. Then he repeated, in an awestruck way, "By Jove!"
The idea had struck him hard.
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1
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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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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nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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whittling
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| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
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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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7
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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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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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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stolidity
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| n.迟钝，感觉麻木 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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trumpery
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| n.无价值的杂物；adj.（物品）中看不中用的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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clam
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| n.蛤，蛤肉 | |
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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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tersely
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| adv. 简捷地, 简要地 | |
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smallpox
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| n.天花 | |
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nomadic
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| adj.流浪的；游牧的 | |
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obliviousness
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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cumbersome
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| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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grandee
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| n.贵族；大公 | |
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dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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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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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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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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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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linguist
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| n.语言学家；精通数种外国语言者 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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daguerreotype
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| n.银板照相 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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analyzing
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| v.分析；分析( analyze的现在分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析n.分析 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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84
avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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mink
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| n.貂，貂皮 | |
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88
muskrat
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| n.麝香鼠 | |
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