An attempt has lately been made to rehabilitate13 the memory of this arch-criminal, so long the scourge14 and terror of the great pastoral districts lying between the Upper Murray and the Murrumbidgee rivers. We are not disposed to deny that there were individuals not wholly abandoned among the misguided outlaws15 who ravaged17 New South Wales in the 'sixties.' There was usually some rude generosity18 in their dealings with victims. They encountered in fair fight, and bore no ill-will to the police, who were paid to entrap19 and exterminate20 them. They were lenient21 to the poorer travellers, and exhibited a kind of Robin22 Hood23 gallantry on occasion. Among them were men who would have done honour to their native land under happier auspices24. For, with few exceptions, they were sons of the soil. But Daniel Morgan differed from 136Gardiner, Hall, and Gilbert, from the Clarkes and the Peisleys, from O'Malley and Vane, from Bourke and Dunn. He differed as the wolf differs from the hound, the carrion25 vulture from the eagle. His cunning on all occasions equalled his malignity26, his brutal27 cruelty, his lust28 for wanton bloodshed. Rarely was it, after one of his carefully-planned surprises, when he swooped29 down upon a defenceless station, that he abstained30 from injury to person or property.
He was skilful31 and persevering32 in discovering his 'enemies,' as he called them,—a not too difficult task,—for he had abettors and sympathisers, scoundrels who harboured and spied for him, as well as those who, fearing the vengeance33 of an unscrupulous ruffian, dared not refuse food or assistance. Those whom he suspected of giving information to the police or providing them with horses when on his trail he never forgave, often wreaking34 cruel vengeance on them when the opportunity came. He would reconnoitre from the hill or thicket35 for days beforehand. When the men of the household were absent or otherwise employed, he would suddenly appear upon the scene, to revel36 in the terror he created; certain to destroy valuable property, if indeed he did not imbrue his hands in blood before he quitted the spot.
It was, for the most part, his habit to 'work' as a solitary37 robber; he rarely had a companion, although in the encounter with Mr. Baylis, the Police Magistrate38 of Wagga Wagga, when that gentleman showed a noble example by bravely attacking him in his lair39, it is supposed that his then companion was badly wounded. Mr. Baylis was shot through the body, but that man was never seen alive again. The popular impression was that Morgan killed him, so that he might not impede40 his flight or give information. The tale may not be true, but it shows the quality of his reputation.
It seems wonderful that Morgan should have been so long permitted to run the gauntlet of the police of two colonies. It may be doubted whether, in the present efficient state of the New South Wales force, any notorious outlaw16 would enjoy so protracted41 a 'reign,' as the provincial42 phrase goes. He had great odds43 in his favour. A consummate44 horseman like most of his class, a practical bushman and stock-rider, with a command of scouts45 who knew every inch of the country, and could thread at midnight every range and thicket between 137Marackat and the Billabong, Piney Range and Narandera, it was no ordinary task to capture the wild rider, who was met one day on the Upper Murray and the next morning among the pine forests of Walbundree. Horses, of course, cost him nothing. He had the pick of a score of studs, the surest information as to pace and endurance. In a horse-breeding district every animal showing more than ordinary speed or stoutness46 is known and watched by the 'duffing' fraternity, fellows who would cheerfully take to the road but for fear of Jack47 Ketch. It may be imagined how easily the hackney question is settled for a bushranger of name and fame, and what advantages he has over ordinary police troopers in eluding48 pursuit.
I was living on the Murrumbidgee during a portion of his career, in the years 1864 to 1869. He was seen several times within twenty miles of my station, and I have had more than one description from temporary captives, of his appearance and demeanour. There is not an instance on record of his having been taken by surprise, or viewed before he had been employed in reconnoitring his antagonist49.
Some of his adventures were not wholly without an element of humour—although the victim well knew that the turn of a straw might change the intent, from robbery to murder. The late Mr. Alexander Burt, manager of Tubbo and Yarrabee, was riding on the plains, at a distance of ten or twelve miles from the head station, when a horseman emerged from a belt of pines. He wore a poncho50, but differed in no respect from ordinary travellers. Without suspicion he rode towards the stranger. As he approached and, bushman-like, scrutinised horse and man, he observed the JP brand, and recognised the animal as one stolen from the station. A tall, powerful Scot, Mr. Burt ranged alongside of the individual in the poncho and reached over to collar him. At that moment a revolver appeared from under the poncho, and a drawling voice uttered the words 'Keep back!'
It was unsafe to try a rush, and the snake-like eye of the robber told clearly that the least motion would be the signal for pulling the trigger.
'What's yer name?' queried51 the stranger.
'My name is Burt.'
'Then Burt—you get off—that—horse.'
138Being unarmed, he had no option but to dismount.
'Give—me—the—bridle. So—you—tried—to—take—my—horse—did—yer? I've—a—dashed—good—mind—to—shoot—yer. Now—yer—can—walk—home. I'd—advise—yer—to—make—a—straight—track.'
And with this parting injunction he rode slowly away, leading Mr. Burt's horse, while that gentleman, cursing his hard fate, had to tramp a dozen miles before relating the foregoing adventure.
At another time he surprised the Yarrabee Station, 'bailing52' Mr. Waugh the overseer, Mr. Apps, and others of the employés of Mr. John Peter, but beyond placing the JP brand in the fire, and swearing he would put it on one of them, as a suitable memento53, he did nothing dreadful.
At Mr. Cochran's of Widgiewa, as also at Mr. M'Laurin's of Yarra Yarra, preparations were openly made for his reception; yet, though he made various threats of vengeance, he never appeared at either place.
At Round Hill Station, near Germanton, he enacted54 one of his murderous pranks55. Suddenly appearing in the shed at shearing56 time, he terrorised the assembled men, fired on, wounded and threatened the life of the manager. After calling for spirits and compelling all to drink with him, he turned to ride away, when, incensed57 by a careless remark, he wheeled his horse and fired his revolver at the crowd. A bullet took effect in the ankle of a young gentleman gaining shearing experience, breaking the bone, and producing intense agony. Appearing to regret the occurrence, Morgan suggested to another man to go for the doctor. Having started, Morgan followed at a gallop58, and overtaking him, said with an oath, 'You're not going for the doctor—you're going for the police.' With that he shot the unfortunate young man through the body, who fell from his horse mortally wounded.
About the same time he was seen by Police Sergeant59 M'Ginnerty riding near the Wagga Wagga road. Having no suspicion, he galloped60 alongside, merely to see who he was. Without a moment's hesitation61 Morgan fired through his poncho. The bullet was but too sure—it may be noted62 that he rarely missed his aim—and the ill-fated officer fell to the ground in the death agony. He coolly propped63 up the dying man in a sitting posture64, and there left him.
139When it is considered that he killed two police officers, besides civilians65, Chinamen, and others, and that he shot a police magistrate through the body (inflicting a wound nearly fatal, the consequences of which were suffered for years after), it will be admitted that he was one of the most formidable outlaws that ever roamed the Australian wilds.
He is said to have encountered a pastoral tenant66, of large possession, whom he thus accosted67—
'I—hear—you've—been—pounding—the—Piney—boys'—horses—haven't—you?'
The witness was understood to deny, or, at any rate, shade off the unpopular act.
'Piney Range,' near Walbundree, was understood to be at one time the robber's headquarters. Here he was harboured in secret, and more comfortably lodged68 than was guessed at by the public or the police. The 'boys' were a horse-and cattle-stealing band of rascals—now fortunately dispersed—who generally made themselves useful by misleading the police, as well as by giving him notice of hostile movements. Towards subsidising them the spoils of honest men were partially69 devoted70.
But this did by no means satisfy the 'terrible cross-examiner.'
'You look here now! If yer don't drop it, the—very—next—time—I—come—over—I'll—shoot—yer. For—the—matter—of—that—I—don't—know—whether—I—won't—shoot—yer—now.'
And as the dull eyes fastened with deadly gaze upon the captive's face—he looking meanwhile at the mouth of the levelled weapon, held in the blood-stained hand of one who at any time would rather kill a man than not—be sure Mr. Blank's feelings were far from enviable.
To one of his victims he is reported to have said—
'I—hear—you're—a—dashed—good—step-dancer. Now—let's—have—a—sample—and—do—yer—bloomin'—best—or—yer—won't—never—shake—a—leg—no—more.'
Fancy performing on the light fantastic before such a critic!
A cheerful squatter71 (who told me the tale) was riding through his paddocks one fine afternoon, in company with his family and a couple of young friends of the 'colonial experience' 140persuasion. They were driving—he riding a handsome blood filly. In advance of the buggy, he was quietly pacing through the woodland—probably thinking how well the filly was coming on in her walking, or that fat stock had touched their highest quotation—when he was aware of a man sitting motionless on his horse, under a tree.
The tree was slightly off his line, and as he approached it the strange horseman quietly rode towards him. He noted that he was haggard, and dark-complexioned, with an immense bushy beard. His long, black hair hung on his shoulders. His eyes, intensely black, were small and beady; his air sullen72 and forbidding. He rode closely up to the pastoralist without word or sign. Their knees had nearly touched when he drew a revolver and pointed73 it at his breast, so quickly that there was hardly time to realise the situation.
'Which—way—are—yer—goin'?'
'Only across the paddock,' was the answer.
'You—come—back—with—me—to—that—buggy.'
By making a slight detour74, they came in front of the vehicle, the occupants of which were perfectly75 unsuspicious of the strange company into which the head of the house had fallen.
Then he suddenly accosted them, levelling the revolver, commanding them to stand, and directing the young gentleman who was driving to jump to the ground. He was famed for his activity, it is said, but the spring made on that occasion, at the bidding of Morgan, beat all former records. The other young gentleman, though of limited colonial experience, was not 'devoid76 of sense,' as he dropped two five-pound notes from his pocket into a tussock of grass, whence they were afterwards recovered.
After relieving all of their watches and loose cash, the bushranger asked the proprietor77 whether he had seen any police lately.
'Yes, two had passed.'
'And—you—fed—'em, I expect? I'm half—a—mind—to blow—the bloomin'—wind—through—yer.'
'What am I to do?' queried the perplexed78 landholder. 'I should feed you if you came by. I can't deny them what I give to every one that passes.'
'D'ye—know—who—I—am?'
141'I never met you before, but I can pretty well guess. I've never done you any harm that I know of.'
'It's—a—dashed—good—thing—yer—haven't. What's—that—comin'—along the road?'
'The mail coach.'
'How—d'ye—know—that?'
'Well, it comes by every day about this time, and of course I know it.'
'Well—I'm—just—goin'—to—stick—it—up. Don't—yer—tell—no—one—yer—saw—me—to-day—or—it'll—be—a—blamed—sight—worse—for—yer.'
And with this precept79 and admonition the robber departed, to the infinite relief of all concerned. In a few minutes they heard the pistol shot with which he 'brought-to' the mail-coach.
'Blest if I seen a speck80 of him till he fired the revolver just over my head,' said the driver afterwards. 'I was that startled I wonder I didn't fall off the box.'
No harm was done on that occasion, save to Her Majesty's mails, and the correspondence of the lieges. My informant gathered up the strewed81 parcels and torn sheets into a large sack next morning, and forwarded them to the nearest post-office.
In Morgan's whole career there is not recorded one instance of even the spurious generosity which, if it did not redeem82, relieved the darkness of other criminal careers. He had apparently83 not even the craving84 for companionship, which makes it a necessity with the ordinary brigand85 to have a 'mate' towards whom, at any rate, he is popularly supposed to exhibit that fidelity86 which he has forsworn towards his kind. Rarely is it known that Morgan pursued his depredations87 in concert with any one. He may have had confederates, harbourers he must have had, but not comrades.
He was never known to show mercy or kindness towards women. When they were present at any of his raids, he seems either to have refrained from noticing them or to have derided88 their fears. There is no record of his having suffered their entreaties89 to prevail, or to have ceased from violence and outrage90 at their bidding.
Subtle, savage91, and solitary as those beasts of prey92 which have learned to prefer human flesh, and once having tasted to renounce93 all other, Morgan lurked94 amid the wilds, which he had made his home, ever ready for ruffianism or bloodshed—a 142fiend incarnate—permitted to carry terror and outrage into peaceful homes, until his appointed hour of doom. This was the manner of it.
Morgan's Death, told by the Manager.
Peechelbah Station, on the Murray, was a big scattered95 place, a regular small town. There was the owner's house—a comfortable bungalow96, with a verandah all round. He and his family had just come up from town. My cottage was half a mile away. I was the Manager, and could ride or drive from daylight to midnight, or indeed fight, on a pinch, with any man on that side of the country. I was to have gone up to the 'big house' to have spent the evening. But it came on to rain, so I did not go, which was just as well, as matters turned out.
I was writing in my dining-room about nine o'clock when a servant girl from the house came rushing in. 'What's the matter, Mary?' I said, as soon as I saw her face. 'Morgan's stuck up the place,' she half whispered, 'and he's in the house now. He won't let any one leave the room; swore he'd shoot them if they did. But I thought I'd creep out and let you know.'
'You're a good lass,' I said, 'and have done a good night's work, if you never did another. Now, you get back and don't let on you've been away from your cups and saucers. How does he shape?'
'Oh, pretty quiet. Says he won't harm nobody. They're all sitting on the sofa, and he's got his pistols on the table before him.' And back she went.
Here was a pretty kettle of fish! Many things had to be done, so I pulled myself together, and set about to study the proper place for the battle. It was no use trying to rush the house. There were a lot of hands at work on the place and in the men's huts. But in those days you couldn't be sure of half of them. I had a few confidential97 chaps about, and I intended to trust entirely98 to them and myself. I was a good man in those days, as I said before.
But here was Morgan in possession—one of the most desperate, bloodthirsty bushrangers that had ever 'turned out' in New South Wales or Victoria. Nothing was surer than, if we made an attempt to besiege99 the house, he would at once 143shoot Mr. M'Pherson, and his partner Mr. Telford, who happened to be there with him.
So I had to be politic100 or all would go wrong.
I first thought of the money. For a wonder I had four hundred pounds, in notes, in my desk. I had got them from the bank to buy land, which was to be sold that week. I didn't often do anything so foolish, you may believe, as to keep forty ten-pound notes in a desk.
The next thing, of course, was to 'plant' it. I made it into a parcel, and taking it over to the creek101, hid it under the overhanging root of a tree, in a place that Mr. Morgan, unless he was a thought-reader, like the man we had staying here the other night, would not be likely to find.
This done, I sent my body-servant down to the men's hut, to tell them all to come up to my place—that I wanted to give them a glass of grog. Grog, of course, is never allowed to be kept on a station by any one but the proprietor or manager. But I used to give them a treat now and then, so they didn't think it unusual.
I mustered102 them in my big room and saw they were all there. Every man had his glass of whisky, as I had promised. Then I said: 'Men! There's a d—d fellow here to-night that you've often heard of—perhaps seen. His name's Morgan! He's stuck up the big house, with Mr. and Mrs. M'Pherson and the family. Now, listen to me. The police will be up directly. I intend to surround the house. But I don't want any of you fellows to run into danger, d'ye see? It's my order—mind that—that you all stop in here, till you have the word to come out. Antonio!' I said—he had been with me for ten years and was a determined103 fellow; a sailor from the Spanish main, half-Spanish, half-English, and afraid of nothing in the world—'Antonio, you stand near the door. My orders are that no one leaves this room to-night till I tell him. The first man that tries to do so, shoot him, and ask no questions.'
'By ——! I will,' says Antonio, showing his white teeth and a navy revolver.
The men looked queer at this; but they knew Antonio, and they knew me. They had had a glass of grog, besides, and I promised them another by and by. This pacified104 them; so they brought out some cards and set to at euchre and all-fours. 144They were safe. I had made up my mind what to do. I never intended Morgan to leave the place alive. I had sent off for the police, and among the men I could trust was a smart fellow named Quinlan, a dead shot and a steady, determined man. He had several times said what a shame it was that a fellow like Morgan should go about terrorising the whole country, and what fools and cowards people were to suffer it. He had his own gun and ammunition105, and, when I told him, said he wanted nothing better than to have a slap at him.
We weren't so well off for firearms as we might have been, for I had hid a lot of loaded guns in an empty hut, ready to get hold of in case of sudden need. Confound it, if some of the boys hadn't taken them out the day before to go duck-shooting with. However, we rummaged106 up enough to arm the picked men, and kept watch.
It was a long, long night, but we were so excited and anxious that no one felt weary, much less inclined to sleep. Mr. Telford was in the house with Mr. M'Pherson, and he chaffed Morgan (they told me afterwards) about having his revolvers out in the presence of ladies. However, he couldn't get him to put them away. He was always most suspicious. Never gave a man a chance to close with him. He was well-behaved and civil enough in the house, and, I believe, only wished one of the young ladies to play him a tune107 or two on the piano. He drank spirits sparingly, and always used to call for an unopened bottle. He was afraid of being poisoned or drugged. Some of his friends wouldn't have minded much about that even, as there was a thousand pounds reward for his capture, alive or dead. I have good reason for thinking, however, that one or two of the 'knockabouts' would have given him 'the office,' if we hadn't got them all under hatches, as it were.
Daylight came at last. I've had many a night watching cattle in cold and wet, but none that I was so anxious to end as that. Of course I knew our man wouldn't stop till sunrise. He was too careful, and never took any risks that he could help.
And at last, by George! out he came, and walked down towards the yard where his horse was. I had pretty well considered the line he was likely to take, and was lying down, 145the men on each side of me, as it happened. But, cunning to the last, he made M'Pherson and Telford come out with him, one on each side, not above a yard away from him. As he passed by us we couldn't have fired without a good chance of shooting one of the other two. So we let him pass—pretty close too. However, when he'd passed Quinlan, the track turned at an angle, which brought him broadside on; it wasn't to say a very long shot, nor yet a very close one. It was a risk, too, for of course if he had been missed, the first thing he'd have done would have been to have shot M'Pherson and Telford before any one could have stopped him. But Quinlan had a fair show as he thought, and let drive, without bothering about too many things at once. That shot settled the business for good and all. His bullet struck Morgan between the shoulders and passed out near his chin. He fell, mortally wounded. In an instant he was rushed and his revolvers taken from him. He lay helpless; the spine108 had been touched, and he was writhing109 in his death agony, as better men had done before from his pistol.
The first thing he said was, 'You might have sent a fellow a challenge.' One of the men called out, 'When did you ever do it, you murdering dog?' He never spoke110 after that, and lived less than two hours.
The police didn't come up in time to do anything; no doubt they would have been ready to help in preventing his escape. But I was only too glad the thing had ended as it did. The news soon got abroad that this man—who had kept the border stations of two colonies in fear and trembling, so to speak, for years—was lying dead at Peechelbah. Before night there were best part of two hundred people on the place. I can't say exactly how much whisky they drank, but the station supply ran out before dark, and it was no foolish one either. 'All's well that ends well,' they say. We've had nobody since who's been such a 'terror' to settlers and travellers. But I don't want to go through such a time again as the night of Morgan's death.
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1
stoutest
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| 粗壮的( stout的最高级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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avenger
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| n. 复仇者 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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felon
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| n.重罪犯；adj.残忍的 | |
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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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usury
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| n.高利贷 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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rehabilitate
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| vt.改造(罪犯)，修复；vi.复兴，(罪犯)经受改造 | |
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scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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entrap
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| v.以网或陷阱捕捉，使陷入圈套 | |
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exterminate
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| v.扑灭，消灭，根绝 | |
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lenient
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| adj.宽大的，仁慈的 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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auspices
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| n.资助，赞助 | |
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carrion
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| n.腐肉 | |
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malignity
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| n.极度的恶意，恶毒；（病的）恶性 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abstained
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| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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persevering
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| a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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wreaking
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| 诉诸（武力），施行（暴力），发（脾气）( wreak的现在分词 ) | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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impede
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
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41
protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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42
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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43
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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44
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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45
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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46
stoutness
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| 坚固，刚毅 | |
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47
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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48
eluding
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的现在分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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49
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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50
poncho
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| n.斗篷，雨衣 | |
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51
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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52
bailing
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| （凿井时用吊桶）排水 | |
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53
memento
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| n.纪念品，令人回忆的东西 | |
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54
enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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56
shearing
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| n.剪羊毛，剪取的羊毛v.剪羊毛( shear的现在分词 )；切断；剪切 | |
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57
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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58
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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59
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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60
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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61
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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62
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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63
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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civilians
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| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
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66
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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67
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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68
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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70
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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squatter
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| n.擅自占地者 | |
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72
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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74
detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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76
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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77
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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precept
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| n.戒律；格言 | |
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80
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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81
strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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82
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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83
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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84
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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85
brigand
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| n.土匪，强盗 | |
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86
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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87
depredations
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| n.劫掠，毁坏( depredation的名词复数 ) | |
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88
derided
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| v.取笑，嘲笑( deride的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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90
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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91
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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92
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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93
renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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94
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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95
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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96
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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97
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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98
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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99
besiege
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| vt.包围，围攻，拥在...周围 | |
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100
politic
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| adj.有智虑的；精明的；v.从政 | |
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101
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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102
mustered
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的过去式和过去分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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103
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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104
pacified
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| 使（某人）安静( pacify的过去式和过去分词 )； 息怒； 抚慰； 在（有战争的地区、国家等）实现和平 | |
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105
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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106
rummaged
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
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107
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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108
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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109
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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110
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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