There wasn't a cabin in all that countrywide in which this barefooted last scion3 of a long line of slave-holding gentry5 wasn't known and welcome. There wasn't a negro in the county he didn't know by name: even "mean niggers" grinned amiably6 at Peter Champneys. They remembered what he had once said to a district judge whom he heard bitterly inveighing7 against their ingratitude8, immorality9, shiftlessness, and general worthlessness. Peter had lifted his quiet eyes.
"I've often thought, Judge, what a particularly mean nigger I'd have been, myself," he said, and studied the judge with disconcerting directness. "If you'd been born a colored man, and some folks talked and behaved to you like some folks talk and behave to colored men, don't you reckon you'd be in jail right this minute, Judge?"
The white men who heard Peter's remark smiled, and one of them said, spitting out a mouthful of tobacco juice, that it was just another piece of that boy's damfoolishness. But the negroes, who knew that judge as only negroes can know white men, chuckled10 grimly. They have an immense respect for intelligence, and they made no mistake where Peter's was concerned.
They knew him, too, a mild-eyed, brown-faced child reading out of a Book by the light of a kerosene11 lamp to groups of gray-headed, reverent12 listeners in lonely cabins. And Peter was always making pictures of them—Mindel at the wash-tub, Emma Campbell picking a chicken, old Maum' Chloe churning, Liza playing with her fat black baby, Joe Tuttle plowing14, old Daddy Neptune15 Fennick leaning on his ax. Sometimes these sketches16 caught some fleeting17 moment of fun, and were so true and so amusing that they were received with shouts of delighted laughter, passed from hand to hand, and cherished by fortunate recipients18.
Now, no simple and natural heart can even for a little while beat in unison19 with other hearts, encased in whatsoever20 colored skin may please God, without a quickening of that wisdom which is one of the keys of the Kingdom to come. To be able really to know, truly to understand and come human-close to the lowly, to men and women under the bondage21 of age-old prejudice, or outcast by the color of their skin, is a terrible and perilous22 gift. This is the much knowledge in which there is much grief.
Peter Champneys saw both sides. He saw and heard and knew things that would have made his mother turn in her grave had she known. He knew what depths of savagery23 and superstition24, of brute25 sloth26 and ignorance, lay here to drive back many a would-be white helper in despair, and to render the labor27 of many a splendid negro reformer all but futile28. But he knew, too, the terrible patience, the incredible resignation, with which poverty and neglect and hunger and oppression and injustice29 are borne, until at times, child as he was, his soul sickened with shame and rage. He relished30 the sweet earthy humor that brightens humble31 lives, the gaiety and charity under conditions which, when white men have to bear them, go to the making of red terrorists. Some of the things he saw and heard remained like scars upon Peter's memory. He will remember until he dies the June night he spent with Daddy Neptune Fennick in his cabin on the edge of the River Swamp.
That early June day had been cloudy from dawn; Peter was glad of that, for he meant to pick black-berries, and a sunless day for berry-picking is an unmixed blessing32. The little negroes are such nimblefingered pickers, such locust-like strippers of all near-by patches, that Peter had bad luck at first, and was driven farther afield than he usually went; his search led him even to the edge of the River Swamp, a dismal33 place of evil repute, wherein cane35 as tall as a man grew thickly, and sluggish36 streamlets meandered37 in and out of gnarled cypress38 roots, and big water-snakes stretched themselves on branches overhanging the water. On the edges of the swamp the unmolested vines were thick with fruit. In the late afternoon Peter had filled his buckets to overflowing39 with extra-fine berries.
It had been a sultry day for all its sunlessness, and Peter was tired, so tired that his head and back ached. He looked at the heavy buckets doubtfully; it would be a man-size job to trudge40 the long sandy road home, so laden41. While he sat there, hating to move, Daddy Neptune Fennick came in sight, hoe and rake and ax on his sturdy shoulder. The old man cast a shrewd, weather-wise eye at the darkening sky.
"Gwine to hab one spell o' wedder," he called. "Best come on home wid me, Peter, en wait w'ile."
Even as he spoke43 a blaze of lightning split the sky and lighted up the swamp. A loud clap of thunder followed on the heels of it. Daddy Neptune seized one bucket, Peter the other, and both ran for the shelter of the cabin, some eighth of a mile farther on. They reached it just as the rain came down in swirling44, blinding sheets.
The old man built a fire in his mud fireplace, and prepared the evening meal of broiled45 bacon, johnny-cake, and coffee. He and his welcome guest ate from tin plates on their knees, drinking their coffee from tin cups. Between mouthfuls each gave the other what county news he possessed46. Peter particularly liked that orderly one-roomed cabin, and the fine old man who was his host.
He was an old-timer, was Daddy Neptune, more than six feet tall, and massively proportioned. His bald head was fringed with a ring of curling gray wool, and a white beard covered the lower portion of an unusually handsome countenance47. He had a shrewd and homely48 wit, an unbuyable honesty, and such a simple and unaffected dignity of manner and bearing as had won the respect of the county.
The old man lived by himself in the cabin by the River Swamp. His wife and son had long been dead, and though he had sheltered, fed, clothed, and taught to work several negro lads, these had gone their way. Peter was particularly attached to him, and the old man returned his affection with interest.
The dark fell rapidly. You could hear the trees in the River Swamp crying out as the wind tormented50 them. On a night like this, with lightning snaking through it and wild wind trying to tear the heart out of its thin cypresses51, and the cane-brake rustling52 ominously53 in its unchancy black stretches, one might believe that the place was haunted, as the negroes said it was. Daddy Neptune was moved to tell Peter some of his own experiences with the River Swamp. He spoke, between puffs54 of his corn-cob pipe, of the night Something had come out of it—pitterpat! pitterpat!—right at his heels. It had followed him to the very edge of his home clearing. Daddy Neptune wasn't exactly afraid, but he knew that Something hadn't any business to be pitterpattering at his heels, so he had turned around and said:
"Ef you-all come out o' hebben, you 's wastin' good time 'yuh. Ef Dey-all lef' you come out o' hell, you bes' git right back whah you b'longs. One ways, I ain't got nothin' I kin13 tell you; t'other ways, you ain't got nothin' I 's gwine to let you tell me. I 's axin' you to git. En," finished Neptune, "dat t'ing done went right out—whish!—same lak I 's tellin' you! Yessuh! hit went spang out!" He threw another chunk55 of fatwood on the fire, and watched the smoky flame go dancing up the chimney. In the red glow he had the aspect of a kindly56 Titan.
"It never bothered you again, Daddy Nep?" Peter was always curious about these experiences. He had a glimmer57 that negroes are nearer to certain Powers than other folks are, and although he wasn't superstitious58, he wasn't skeptical59, either.
"Never bothered me a-tall, less'n dat 's whut 's been meddlin' wid my fowls60, whichin ef I catches it, I aims to blow its head plum off, ghostes or no ghostes," said the old man, stoutly61.
"Ghosts don't steal chickens. I reckon it's a wild-cat gets yours. I heard one scream in the swamp not so long since."
"Well, I aims to git Mistuh Wildcat, den42. I done got me a couple o' guinea-fowls for watch, en dey sho does set up a mighty62 potrackin' w'en anything strange comes a-snoopin' roun' de yahd."
After a while Daddy Neptune put away his pipe and took down from a shelf his big battered63 Bible, and Peter read the Twenty-first and Twenty-second chapters of Revelation, to which the old man listened with clasped hands and an uplifted face, his lips moving soundlessly as he repeated to himself certain of the words:
And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away.... He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God and he shall be my son ...
"I was born in slaveryment," said the old man, audibly.
Peter lay on his straw bed before the fire, sleepily watching Neptune finish his prayers. He still had a child's faith, but he was beginning to wonder how a laboring64 negro could retain it. One thing he was sure of; if there was such a thing as a Christian65 man, endowed with ideal Christian virtues66, that old man kneeling in his cabin, pouring out his heart to his Maker67, was a Christian. And remembering comfortable, complacent68 white Christians—well fed, well housed, well clothed; with education and all that it implies as their heritage; with all the high things of the world open to them by reason of their white skin; praying decorously every Sunday to a white man's God—Peter felt confused. How should the white man and the white man's God answer and account to the Daddy Neptunes, who had been "born in slaveryment," had lived and would die in slaveryment to poverty and prejudice? Where do they come in, these dispossessed dark sons of the Father? Surely, the Father has a very great deal to make up to them!—Then the firelighted cabin walls, the wavering figure of the kneeling old man, the soft sound of light rain on the roof, faded and went out. Peter fell asleep.
He slept a tired boy's dreamless slumber69. The night deepened. The rain ceased, and a wan70 and sad moon climbed the sky, wearily, like a tired old woman. In the River Swamp frogs croaked71, a whippoorwill at intervals72 gave its lonesome and lovely call, the shivering-owl's cry making it lovelier by comparison. The cypresses shook blackly in the blacker swamp water which licked their roots. From the drenched73 vegetation arose a fresh and penetrating74 odor, the smell of the clean June night. And presently, he didn't know why, Peter awoke with every sense instantly alert. It was as if his soul had sensed a sound, knew it for what it was, and was on guard.
A few red embers glowed in the big mud chimney. Save for these, the one-room cabin was in darkness. Somebody was moving about. Peter made out the figure of big Neptune standing75 with his head bent76 in a listening attitude at one of the shuttered windows. A bit of fatwood in the fireplace burst for a moment into an expiring flame, which flickered78 dully on the barrel of the gun in the negro's hands. Peter scrambled79 up, and stole noiselessly across the floor.
"Dem guineas potracked en waked me up, Son," whispered Neptune. "Now I aims to git whut 's been sneakin' off wid my fowls."
At that moment a low knock sounded on the door. At such an hour, and in that lonely place, it gave the old man and the boy a distinct sensation of fear: who should come knocking so stealthily at the door of the cabin by the River Swamp at that eerie80 hour? Neptune, his gun gripped in his hands, twisted his head sidewise, listening. The knock came again, this time more insistent81. Then a thick voice spoke, muffled82 by the intervening door:
"Daddy Nepshun, is you awake? For Gawd A'mighty's sake, Daddy Nepshun, lemme in!"
The old man stepped to the door and flung it wide. The figure that had been crouching83 against it tumbled in and lay panting on the floor.
"Light me dat lamp, please, Peter," said Neptune, peering down at his visitor.
Peter, who had recovered from his momentary84 fear, lighted the kerosene lamp. By its light they perceived a stained, muddy, disheveled wretch85, in the last state of terror and exhaustion86. Two wild eyes glared at them out of a gray, grimed face.
"Why, Jake! Lawd 'a' mussy, hit 's Jake!" burst from Daddy Neptune. Peter recognized in the intruder a negro to whom the old man had been, as was his wont87, fatherly kind. On a time he and his wife had sheltered and fed Jake.
Peter didn't know why, but something in the man's aspect, in his rolling eyes, his lips drawn88 back from his teeth, his torn clothes, his desperate look of a hunted beast, made him recoil89. He had never before seen any one with just that look of brute cunning and terror. Daddy Neptune's steady eyes took in every detail. He stiffened90 in his tracks.
"Whut you been doin'?" he demanded. Jake turned his head from side to side; he refused to meet the direct old eyes. He mumbled91:
"Is you got any w'isky, Da' Nepshun? For Gawd's sake, Da' Nepshun, gimme a drink en don't ast me no questions twell I 's able to answer." His voice was hoarse92 and shaking; his whole body shook.
"I ain't got no w'isky, but I got coffee en bittles. Whichin you is welcome to," said Neptune. "You ain't say yit whut you been doin'. Whut you been up to, Jake?"
Jake writhed93 off the floor. Again Peter recoiled94 instinctively95. As the negro got upon his feet his coat fell open, and the torn sleeve and cuff96 of a gingham shirt showed. On it was a dark stain which was not swamp water or mud. Peter's eyes fastened upon that dark red smear97.
"Gimme a bite o' bittles so 's I kin git on," implored98 Jake.
"I axes you once mo', Jake: whut you been doin'?" demanded Neptune. His voice was stern, and his face began to set.
"En I axes you to lemme git dem bittles fust, en I'll tell you, soon 's I gits back mah wind," returned Jake, sullenly99.
Still retaining his gun, Neptune went to the corner cupboard, from which he took a loaf of bread. Without cutting it he handed it to Jake, who began to tear it with his teeth. All the while he ate, he kept turning his head, listening, listening.
"Cain't wait for no coffee. Gimme drink o' water, please, suh." In silence Neptune handed him a gourd100 of water. When Jake had gulped101 this down, Neptune asked again, inexorably:
"Whut you been doin', Jake?"
Jake shifted from one foot to the other. He thrust his bullet head forward. His hands, hanging at his sides, opened and closed, the fingers twitching102.
"Dem w'ite mens is atter—somebuddy—en dey say hit 's me," he muttered hoarsely103. His eyes rolled toward the door, which, not having been barred after his entrance, swung slightly ajar.
"Whut dey atter somebuddy for?" Neptune demanded. Outside, in the wet night, the screech-owl cried. The sweet wind danced on airy feet in and out of the cypresses and the gums, kissed them, stole their breath, and tossed it abroad odorously. Stars had come out to keep the pale moon company, and a faint light glinted on wet grass and bushes. Crickets and katydids and little green tree-frogs kept up a harsh concert. And then, above all the minor104, murmuring noises of the night arose another sound, very faint and far off, but unmistakable and unforgetable—the deep, long, bell note of a hound upon the trail.
The three in the cabin stood like figures turned to stone in the attitude of listening. Jake's teeth chattered105 audibly. He edged toward the open door, but Neptune stepped in front of him, and flung up an arresting hand.
"Whut for?" His voice was like a whip-lash.
"Somebuddy—done meddled106 wid a w'ite gal108—een de cawn-field. En dey 'low—hit wuz me."
A gasp109, as if his heart had been squeezed, came from Neptune. Of a sudden he seemed to grow in height, to tower unhumanly tall above the cringing110 wretch he confronted. His eyes narrowed into red points that bored into the other's eyes, and plunged111 like daggers112 into his heart and mind. Before that glance, like a vivisectionist's knife, Jake wilted113; he seemed to shrink, dwindle114, collapse115. And with a growing, cold, awful horror, a suspicion so hideous116 that his mind revolted from it, Peter Champneys stood staring from one black face to the other.
"You—you—" Neptune gulped, strangling. A long, slow shudder117, as of one confronting unheard-of torture, went over his big frame. The fringe of hair on his bald head rose, his beard bristled118. Sparks seemed to shoot from his eyes, burning with a terrible flame.
"Da' Nepshun—" Jake put out clawing, twitching hands. "Dey 's—dey 's—gwine to git me." His voice broke into a half-scream.
"Whut you do hit for?" This from Neptune, in a heart-shaken, anguished119, rattling120 whisper. He asked no further questions. He had no doubt. Jake's rolling eyes had told him the unspeakable truth.
"I 'clah to Gawd, Da' Nepshun, I wuz n't meanin' no hahm—I never had no idea—She came down de cawn-field paff—wid de cow followin' 'er—en—en—I don't know whut mek me meddle107 wid dat gal. Seems lak hit wuz de debbil, 'stead o' me."
"Is de gal done daid?"
"Yas, suh, she done daid." Jake rocked himself to and fro, muttering her name.
Peter Champneys looked at the torn shirt-sleeve with the red stain upon it. The room shook and wavered, wind was in his ears. And the red of that girl's blood got into his eyes, and he saw things through a scarlet121 mist. The most horrible rage he had ever experienced shook him like a mortal sickness. Oh, God! oh, God! oh, God! That girl!
In the momentary silence that fell upon that tragic122 room, a sound shivered. Long, slow, bell-like. Nearer. It galvanized Jake into terror-stricken action. He started for the door.
"Dey 'll git me, dey 'll git me!" he croaked.
Peter would have flung himself upon the wretch, to reach for his throat with bare hands; but something in Neptune's face stopped him. Neptune's bigness seemed to fill the whole room. He drew a deep breath, and with one movement jerked the door wide.
"Run down de paff by de fowl-house," he said sharply. "Den—hit 's de swamp for you."
Peter turned sick. Was Neptune like all other—niggers? Hadn't he the—proper sense of what this devil had done?
Jake leaped for the door, cleared the steps at a bound, and was flying down the path. Neptune took one forward step, filling the doorway123. He lifted the shot-gun to his shoulder. Just as the fugitive124 neared the fowl-house, the gun spoke. The flying figure leaped high in the air, and then sprawled125 out and was suddenly still and inert126. The guinea-hens set up a deafening127 potracking, and the cooped fowls squawked and flapped. Above all the noise they made rose the bloodhound's note.
It was done so quickly, it was so inevitable128, that Peter could only stand and blink. He thought, sickly, that the very earth should shudder away from the soiling touch of that appalling129 carrion130. But the earth was the one thing that would receive Jake unprotestingly. He lay on his face, his arms outflung, and from the gaping131 hole between his shoulders a dark stream welled. The indifferent earth, the uncaring grass, received it. The wind came out of the swamp on mincing132 feet and danced over him, and fluttered his torn shirt-sleeve.
Stonily133, voicelessly, Neptune stood in the cabin door, staring at that which lay in the pathway. Then he lowered the smoking gun, and leaned on it. His bald head drooped134 until his gray beard swept his breast, and his throat rattled135 like a dying man's. Shudders136 went over him. And stonily young Peter Champneys stood beside him, his boyish eyes hard in a dead-white face, his boyish mouth a grim, pale line.
"Peter," said the old man presently, in a thin whisper, "I helped raise dat boy. Wuz n't sich a bad boy, neither. Used to sing en wissle roun' de house, en fetch water en fiah-wood. Chloe, she loved 'im. Used to say Ouah Fathuh right in dis same room 'fo' he went to sleep. Ef I 'd 'a' knowed—
"En dat po' lil w'ite chile's daddy en mammy, dey done raise 'er—used to say 'er prayers—en laff en sing—en trus' de Almighty137 Gawd—"
He raised his sinewy138 arms and shook the gun aloft.
"Ah, Gawd Almighty! Gawd Almighty! Whah is You dis night? Whah is You?" cried the old man. And of a sudden he began to weep dreadfully; heart-broken cries of pain and of protest, the tortured cries of one suffering inhumanly139.
"And all this while God said not a word."
Shaken to the soul, full of sick horror, and loathing140, and rage, Peter Champneys yet had a swift, intuitive understanding of old Neptune; and as if through him he had caught a glimpse of the naked and suffering soul of the black people, the boy began to weep with him. With understanding merging141 into pity he crept nearer and put his slender, boyish arm around the big, shaking, agonized142 figure, and the old man turned his head and looked long and sorrowfully into the white child's face. He put out the big, seamed, work-hardened hand that had labored143 since it could hold an implement144 to labor with, and laid it on the child's shoulder.
Then, bareheaded and empty-handed, Neptune sat down on his cabin steps to wait for what should happen, and Peter Champneys sat beside him, the gun between his knees. Over there by the fowl-house lay Jake, a horrid145 blotch146 in the moonlight.
Presently, echoing through the River Swamp, the hunting hounds set up their thrilling, deep-mouthed belling. They were closing in on their quarry147 and the nearness of it excited them. A few minutes later, and here they were, a posse of some thirty or forty mounted men struggling pell-mell after them. One great hound leaped forward, stood rigid148 by that which lay in a heap in the cabin clearing, pointed149 his nose, and gave tongue. Other dogs bunched around him, sniffed150, and joined in.
The mounted men came to an abrupt151 standstill, the horses, like the dogs, bunching together. Neptune had risen and Peter Champneys stood on the top step, his head about level with the old man's shoulder. He looked in vain for the sheriff; evidently, this was an independent posse. One of the men rode up to the door, shouting to make himself heard above the din4 of the dogs, and Peter recognized him, with a sinking of the heart—a tenant152 farmer named Mosely, of a violent and quarrelsome disposition153.
"Shet up them damn dogs!" he yelled. And to Neptune, savagely154: "Now then, nigger, talk! What's been doin' here?"
It was Peter Champneys who answered.
"Daddy Neptune's been worried by something or somebody stealing his fowls. He's been on the watch. So when he saw that—that nigger over there running by the chicken-house, he just blazed away. Got him between the shoulder-blades."
A yell so ferocious155 that Peter's marrow156 froze, burst from the posse, which had dismounted.
"It's him!" howled a farm-hand, and kicked the corpse157 in the face. "What in hell did that big nigger shoot him for, anyhow?" he roared. "He'd ought to be strung up himself, the old black—" And he cursed Neptune vilely159. He felt swindled. There would be no burning, with interludes of unspeakable things. Nothing but senseless carrion to wreak160 vengeance161 upon. And all through a damned old meddling162 nigger's fault! A nigger taking the law into his own hands!
Somebody, discovering Daddy Neptune's woodpile, had kindled163 a fatwood torch. Others followed his example, and the red, smoky light flared164 over enraged165 faces and glaring eyes of maddened men; over the sweating horses, the baying dogs, and the black corpse with its bruised166 face. The guinea-hens, after their insane fashion, kept up a deafening potracking, flapping from limb to limb of the tree in which they roosted. The indifferent swamp chorus joined in, katydids and crickets shrilling167 all the while. And over it all the moon went about its business; the awful depths of the sky were silent. The wind from the swamp, the night, the earth, didn't care.
Somebody whipped out a knife and bent over Jake's body. A yell greeted this. Dogs and men moved confusedly around the thing on the ground, in a sort of demoniac circle upon which the hissing168, flaring169 pitch-pine torches danced with infernal effect. Peter Champneys watched it, his soul revolting. He had no sympathy for Jake; he felt for him nothing but hatred170. He couldn't think of that gay and innocent girl coming down the corn-field path, unafraid—to meet what she had met—without a suffocating171 sense of rage. She had been, Peter remembered, a very pretty girl, a girl who, as Neptune had said, used to sing, and laugh, and say her prayers, and trust Almighty God.
But Peter was seeing now the other side of that awful cloud which darkens the horizon of the South—the brute beast mob-vengeance that follows swiftly upon the heels of the unpardonable sin. There must be justice. But what was happening now wasn't justice. It was stark172 barbarism let loose.
Neptune, who had "helped raise" Jake, had meted173 out to him justice full and sure. He had avenged175 both the wronged white and the wronged black people. Peter looked at the men in the cabin clearing, and saw the thing nakedly, and from both angles. For instance, consider Mosely, who had done things—with a clasp-knife. And that other man, the farm-hand, shifty-eyed and mean, always half drunk, a bad citizen: they would be sure to be foremost in affairs like this. They had precious little respect for the law as law. And here they were, making the holy night indecent with bestial176 behavior. Again a sick qualm shook Peter: Mosely was calmly putting four severed177 black fingers into his coat pocket. Oh, where was the sheriff? Why didn't the sheriff come?
Peter caught a glimpse of a shapeless, battered, gory178 mass under trampling179 feet. Maddened by the little they were able to accomplish, and with the torture-lust that is as old as humanity itself roused to fury by frustration180, the posse turned from that which had been Jake, to old Neptune, standing motionless by his doorway. Neptune had not moved or spoken since Peter had answered the posse's questions. He had not even appeared to hear the vile158 abuse heaped upon him. He was not in the least afraid for his life: He was beyond that. That which had happened, which was happening, had dealt the stern, simple-hearted old man so mighty a blow that his faculties181 were stunned182. He couldn't think. He could only suffer a bewildered, baffled torment49. He stood there, dumb as a sheep before the slaughterers, and the sight of his black face maddened the men who were out to avenge174 a black man's monstrous183 crime.
"Hang the damn nigger!" screamed Mosely, and the crowd surged forward ominously. You could see, by the shaking torch-light, faces in which the eyes glared wolf-like, brandished184 fists, glints of guns. Neptune, without a flicker77 of fear, regarded them with his sorrowful gaze. But Peter Champneys stepped in front of him, and thrust the cold muzzle185 of the shot-gun against Mosely's face. The man, a coward at heart, leaped back, trampling upon the toes of those behind him, who cursed him shrilly186 and vindictively187.
Then spoke up small Peter Champneys, standing barefooted and bareheaded, clothed in a coarse blue blouse and a pair of patched and faded denim188 trousers, but for all that heir to a long line of dead-and-gone Champneyses who had been, whatever their faults, fearless and gallant189 gentlemen.
"Get back there, you, Mosely!" Peter Champneys spoke in the voice his grandfather had on a time used to a recalcitrant190 field-hand.
"Chuck that little nigger-lover in the swamp!"
"Knock him down an' git the nigger, Mosely!"
"Burn down the house!"
But the shot-gun in that steady young hand held them in check for a breathing-space. They knew Peter Champneys.
"Mosely!" snapped Peter. "You, too, Nicolson! Stand back, you white-livered hounds! First one of you lays a hand on me or Daddy Nep gets his head blown off! Damn you, Mosely! don't make me tell you again to get back!"
And Mosely saw that in the boy's eyes that drove him back, swearing.
The huge farm-hand, who had shifted and squirmed his way to the back of the crowd, now lifted his arm. A rope with a noose191 at the end snaked over the tossing heads, and all but settled over black Neptune's. It slipped, writhing192 from the old man's shoulder and down his shirt. The mob set up a disappointed and yet hopeful howl.
"Try it again! Try it again!" they shrieked193. Then a sort of waiting hush194 fell upon them. The farm-hand, to whom the rope had been tossed, was again making ready for a throw, measuring the distance with his eyes. Peter, his lips tightening195, waited too. The farm-hand was a tall man, and the posse had shifted to allow him space. His arm shot up, the noosed196 rope whizzed forward. But even as it did so Peter Champneys's trigger-finger moved. The report sounded like a clap of thunder, and was followed by a roar of rage and pain. The rope-thrower, with the rope tripping his feet and impeding197 his movements, danced about wildly, shaking the hand from which three fingers had been cleanly clipped. At that instant another posse rode up, with a baying of hounds to herald198 it. One saw the sheriff on a large bay horse, a Winchester in the crook199 of his arm. With a merest glance at what had been Jake, he pushed his way through the throng200, and was confronted by Peter Champneys standing in front of old Neptune Fennick, with a smoking shot-gun in his hands.
"You better do something, quick! If you let anything happen to Daddy Nep, you've got to kill me first," panted Peter.
"He'd ought to be shot for a nigger-lover, Sheriff!" shouted the farm-hand.
"All right. Do it. But you'll get your neck stretched for it! My name's Champneys," shouted Peter.
The sheriff moved restlessly on his bay. A Champneys had fed his parents. Chadwick Champneys had given him his first pair of shoes. The sheriff was stirred to the depths by the crime that had been committed, and he had no love for a nigger, but—
He turned to the menacing crowd. "Here, boys, enough o' this! The right nigger's dead, and that's all there is to it. No, you don't do no hangin'! I'm sheriff o' this county, an' I aim to keep the law. Let that old nigger alone, Mosely! If that young hell-cat puts a bullet in your chitlin's, it'll be your own funeral."
He straightened in the saddle, touched the rein34, and in a second the big bay had been swung around to stand between Neptune and the white men. The muzzle of Peter's gun touched the sheriff's leg.
"Put that pop-gun up, Son," said he, turning his head to look down into the boy's face. Their eyes met, in a long look.
"I knew that girl since she was bawn," he said, and his hard face quivered. "Hell!" swore the sheriff, and the hand on his bridle201 shook. He knew old Neptune, too, and in his way liked him. But it was hard for the sheriff, who had seen the dead little girl, to look into any black face that night and retain any feeling of humanity.
"Yes, sir. I knew her, too," said Peter Champneys, gulping202. "But—I know Neptune, too. And—what happened—wasn't his fault. It's got nothing to do with Neptune—and—and things that Mosely—" His voice broke.
"Hell!" swore the sheriff again. And he whispered, more gently, "All right, Peter. An' I reckon you better stay by the old nigger for a day or two until this thing dies down." After all, the sheriff thought relievedly, Neptune's swift action, actuated by whatsoever motive203, had saved the county and himself from a rather frightful204 episode. Turning to the crowd, he yelled:
"Get them dogs started for home! They're goin' plum crazy! Get on your hawse, Mosely! You, over there, with your fist shot up, ride next to me. Mount, all o' you! Mount, I say! No, I'll come last.
"What's that you're sayin', Briggs? No, suh, not by a damn-sight you won't! Not while I'm sheriff o' this county an' upholdin' law an' order in it, you won't drag no dead nigger behind my hawse—nor yet in front of him, neither! Let the nigger lay where he is and rot—what's left of him."
"Do you want us to bury—it?" quavered Peter.
"Bury it or burn it. What the hell do I care what you do with it?" growled205 the sheriff. "He's dead, that's all I got to think about." He ran his shrewd eyes over the posse, saw that not one straggler remained to do further mischief206, and drove them before him, willy-nilly. In five minutes the trampled207 yard was clear, and the sound of the horses' hoofs208 was already dying in the distance. In the sky all other stars had paled to make room for the morning star.
Peter and Neptune, left alone, looked at each other dumbly. A thing remained to be done. The sun mustn't rise upon the horror that lay in the cabin yard. Neptune went to his small barn and trundled out a wheelbarrow, in which were several gunny-sacks, a piece of rope, and a spade.
Peter turned his head away while the old man covered the thing on the ground with sacking, rolled it over, floppily209, and tied it as best he could. The sweat came out on them both as they saw the stains that spread on the clean sacking. Neptune heaped the bundle into his wheelbarrow. At a word from him Peter went into the house and returned with a lighted lantern, for the River Swamp was still very dark. The sun wouldn't be up for an hour or two yet. Peter held the lantern in one hand, and carried spade and shot-gun over the other shoulder. In the ghostly light they entered the swamp, every turn and twist of whose wide, watery210 acreage was known to Neptune, and was fairly familiar to Peter. They had to proceed warily211, for the ground was treacherous212, and at any moment a jutting213 tree-root might upset the clumsy barrow. Despite Neptune's utmost care it bumped and swayed, and the shapeless bundle in it shook hideously214, as if it were trying to escape. And the stains on the coarse shroud215 grew, and spread.
In a small and fairly dry space among particularly large cypresses, Neptune stopped. At one side was a deep pool in whose depths the lantern was reflected. About it ferns, some of a great height, grew thickly. Neptune began to dig in the black earth. Sometimes he struck a cypress root, against which the spade rang with a hollow sound. It was slow enough work, but the hole in the swamp earth grew with every spade-thrust, like a blind mouth opening wider and wider. Peter held the lantern. The trees stood there like witnesses.
Presently Neptune straightened his shoulders, moved back to the barrow, and edged it to the hole. Swiftly and deftly216 he tipped it, and the shapeless bundle slid into the open mouth awaiting it. It was curiously217 still just then in the River Swamp.
When they emerged into the open, the sun was rising over a clean, fresh world. The dark tops of the trees were gilded218 by the first rays. Every bush was hung with diamonds, the young grass rippled219 like a child's hair, and birds were everywhere, voicing the glory of the morning.
The old negro dropped his wheelbarrow, and lifted a supplicating220 face and a pair of gnarled hands to the morning sky. His lips moved. One saw that he prayed, trustingly, with a childlike simplicity221.
Peter Champneys watched him speculatively222. He tried to reason the thing out, and the heart in his boyish breast ached with a new pain. Thoughts big, new, insistent, knocked at the door of his intellect and refused to be denied admittance.
He thought it better to take the sheriff's advice and stay with Neptune for a few days, but nobody troubled the good old man. The verdict of the whole county was in his favor. He went his harmless, fearless, laborious223 way unmolested. That autumn he died, and the cabin by the River Swamp was taken over by nature, who gave it to her winds and rains to play with. Her leaves drifted upon its floor, her birds built under its shallow eaves.
Nobody would live there any more. The negroes said the place was haunted: on wild nights one might hear there the sound of a shot, the baying of a hound; and see Jake running for the swamp.
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1
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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subconsciousness
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| 潜意识；下意识 | |
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scion
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| n.嫩芽，子孙 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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inveighing
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| v.猛烈抨击，痛骂，谩骂( inveigh的现在分词 ) | |
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ingratitude
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| n.忘恩负义 | |
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immorality
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| n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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reverent
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| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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plowing
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| v.耕( plow的现在分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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Neptune
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| n.海王星 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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recipients
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| adj.接受的；受领的；容纳的；愿意接受的n.收件人；接受者；受领者；接受器 | |
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unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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20
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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21
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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23
savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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sloth
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| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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28
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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29
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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30
relished
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| v.欣赏( relish的过去式和过去分词 )；从…获得乐趣；渴望 | |
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31
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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32
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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33
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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34
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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36
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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37
meandered
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| （指溪流、河流等）蜿蜒而流( meander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cypress
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| n.柏树 | |
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39
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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40
trudge
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| v.步履艰难地走；n.跋涉，费力艰难的步行 | |
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41
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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42
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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43
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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44
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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45
broiled
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| a.烤过的 | |
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46
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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47
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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48
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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49
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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50
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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51
cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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52
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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53
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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54
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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55
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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56
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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57
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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58
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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59
skeptical
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| adj.怀疑的，多疑的 | |
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60
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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61
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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62
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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63
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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64
laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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65
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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66
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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67
maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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69
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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70
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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71
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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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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73
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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74
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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75
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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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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77
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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80
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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81
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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82
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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83
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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84
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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85
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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86
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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87
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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88
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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89
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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90
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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91
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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92
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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93
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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95
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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96
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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smear
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| v.涂抹；诽谤，玷污；n.污点；诽谤，污蔑 | |
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98
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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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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100
gourd
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| n.葫芦 | |
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101
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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102
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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103
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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104
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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105
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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106
meddled
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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108
gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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109
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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110
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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111
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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112
daggers
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| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
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113
wilted
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| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
dwindle
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| v.逐渐变小（或减少） | |
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115
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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116
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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117
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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118
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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119
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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120
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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121
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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122
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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123
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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124
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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125
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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126
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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127
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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128
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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129
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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130
carrion
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| n.腐肉 | |
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131
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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132
mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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133
stonily
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| 石头地，冷酷地 | |
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134
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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136
shudders
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| n.颤动，打颤，战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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137
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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138
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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139
inhumanly
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| adv.无人情味地，残忍地 | |
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140
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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141
merging
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| 合并（分类） | |
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142
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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143
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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144
implement
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| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
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145
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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146
blotch
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| n.大斑点；红斑点；v.使沾上污渍，弄脏 | |
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147
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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148
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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149
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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150
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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151
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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152
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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153
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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154
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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155
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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156
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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157
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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158
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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159
vilely
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| adv.讨厌地，卑劣地 | |
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160
wreak
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| v.发泄；报复 | |
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161
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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162
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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163
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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164
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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165
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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166
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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167
shrilling
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的现在分词 )； 凄厉 | |
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168
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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169
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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170
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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171
suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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172
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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173
meted
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| v.（对某人）施以，给予（处罚等）( mete的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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174
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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175
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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176
bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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177
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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178
gory
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| adj.流血的；残酷的 | |
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179
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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180
frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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181
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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182
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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183
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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184
brandished
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| v.挥舞( brandish的过去式和过去分词 )；炫耀 | |
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185
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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186
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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187
vindictively
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| adv.恶毒地；报复地 | |
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188
denim
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| n.斜纹棉布；斜纹棉布裤，牛仔裤 | |
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189
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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190
recalcitrant
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| adj.倔强的 | |
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191
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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192
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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193
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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194
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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195
tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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196
noosed
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| v.绞索，套索( noose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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197
impeding
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| a.(尤指坏事)即将发生的，临近的 | |
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198
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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199
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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200
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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201
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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202
gulping
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的现在分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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203
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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204
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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205
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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206
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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207
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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208
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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209
floppily
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| adv.叭塌叭塌响地，懒散地 | |
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210
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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211
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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212
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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213
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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214
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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215
shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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216
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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217
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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218
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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219
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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220
supplicating
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| v.祈求，哀求，恳求( supplicate的现在分词 ) | |
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221
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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222
speculatively
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| adv.思考地，思索地；投机地 | |
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223
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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