He breathed a sigh of satisfaction. All was well. The sun was fastsinking beneath the hills, the prey3 was in sight and no hand could belifted to help.
The moment the shadows closed over the ravine he rose, stretched hiscramped body and turned to Thompson.
"Build your fire for supper."Thompson nodded.
"And give our men all they can eat.""Yes, sir.""They'll need their strength to-night.""I understand."The supper ready, Brown gathered his band around the camp fire andoffered thanks to his God. The meal was eaten in silence. The tensionof an imperious mind had gripped the souls of his men. They moved as ifstalking game at close quarters.
And they were doing this exactly.
The last pot and pan had been cleaned and packed. The fire wasextinguished. Brown issued his first order of the deed.
"Lie down flat in the grass now."The men dropped one by one. Brown was the last.
"When I give the word, see that your arms are in trim and march singlefile fifty yards apart and beat the brush as you go. If you come on acabin in our path not marked in our survey, it is important. Do not passit. Report to me immediately."There was no response. He had expected none. The order was final.
The first move in the man hunt was carefully planned.
The instinct to kill is the elemental force, beneath our culture, whichmakes the hunter. The strongest personalities4 of our world-conqueringrace of Nordic freemen are always hunters. If they do not practicethe chase the fact is due to an accident of position in life. Theopportunity has not been given.
Beneath the skin of the man of the College, the Council Table, theForum, the Sacred Altar, of Home, and the Church slumbers5 this elementalbeast.
Culture at best is but a few hundred years old and it has probablyskipped several generations in its growth. The Archaic6 instinct in manto kill reaches back millions of years into the past. The only power onearth to restrain that force is Law. The rules of life, embodied7 in laware the painful results of experience in killing8 and the dire9 effectswhich follow, both to the individual and the race. Law is a force onlyso long as reverence10 for law is made the first principle of man's socialtraining. The moment he lifts his individual will against the embodiedexperience of humanity, he is once more the elemental beast of theprehistoric jungle--the Hunter.
And when the game is human and the hunter is a man of prayer, we havethe supreme11 form of the beast, the ancient Witch Hunter. It is a factthat the pleasure of killing is universal in man. Our savage12 ancestorsfor millions of years had to kill to live. We have long ago outgrownthis necessity in the development of civilization. But the instinctremains.
We are human as we restrain this instinct and bring it under thedominion of Law. We still hunt the most delicate and beautiful animals,stalk and kill them, driven by the passionate13 secret pleasure of the actof murder. With bated breath and glittering eyes we press our advantageuntil the broken wing ceases to flutter and the splintered bone tocrawl.
This imperious atavism the best of us cannot or will not control in thepursuit of animals. When man has lifted his arm in defiance14 of Traditionand Law, this impulse is the dominant15 force which sweeps all else aschaff before it.
John Brown was the apostle of the sternest faith ever developed in theagonies of our history. To him life had always been a horror.
There was no hesitation16, no halting, no quiver of maudlin17 pity, when heslowly rose from his grass-covered lair18 in the darkness and called hismen at ten o'clock:
"Ready!"Single file, moving silently and swiftly they crept through the night,only the sharpened swords clanking occasionally broke the silence. Theirtread was soft as the claws of panthers. The leader's spirit grippedmind and body of his followers19.
They moved northward20 from the camp in the ravine and crossed theMosquito Creek21 just above the home of the Doyles. Once over the creek,the hunters again spread out single file fifty yards apart.
They had gone but two hundred yards when the signal to halt waswhispered along the line. Owen Brown reported to his father:
"There's a cabin just ahead.""We haven't charted it in our survey?""No.""It will not do to pass it," said Brown.
"They might give the alarm.""Surround it and do your duty," was the stern command.
Owen called three men, cautiously approached the door and knocked.
Something moved inside and a gun was suddenly rammed22 through a chink inthe walls. The muzzle23 line could be seen in the flash of a star's light.
The four men broke and scattered24 in the brush. They reported to theleader.
"We want no fight with this fool. No gun play if we can avoid it. We'lltake our chances and let him alone. He'll think we're a bunch of sneakthieves. I don't see how we missed this man's place. It can't be fivehundred yards from the Doyles'. Back to your places and swing round hiscabin."Owen quickly gave the order and the hunters passed on. The first one ofthe marked prey had shown teeth and claws and the hunters slipped onunder the cover of the darkness to easier game.
The Doyles were not armed.
At least the chances were the old shotgun was not loaded, as it was usedonly for hunting.
The hunters crouched25 low and circled the Doyle house, crawling throughthe timber and the brush.
A hundred yards from the stable, a dog barked. Owen had carefully markedthis dog on the day of the survey. He was merely a faithful yellow curwhich Doyle had brought from Virginia. He looked about seven years old.
If crossed he might put up a nasty fight. If approached with friendlyword by a voice he had once heard, the rest would be easy.
The signal was given to halt. The hunters paused and stood still intheir tracks. Owen had taken pains to be friendly with this dog on theday of the survey. He had called him a number of times and had given hima piece of bread from his pocket. He was sure he could manage him.
In a low tone he whistled and called the dog by name. He had carefullyrecalled it.
"Jack26!"He listened intently and heard the soft step of a paw rustling27 theleaves. The plan was working.
The dog pushed his way into an open space in the brush and stopped.
The hunter called softly:
"Jack, old boy!"The dog wagged his tail. The man could see the movement of kindlygreeting in the starlight, and ventured close. He bent28 low and calledagain:
"Come on, boy!"The dog answered with a whine29, wagged his tail, came close and thrusthis nose against the man's arm in a welcome greeting. With his left handthe man stroked the warm, furry30 head, while his right slowly slipped theugly sharpened cutlass from its scabbard.
Still stroking the dog's head and softly murmuring words of endearment,he straightened his body:
"Bully32 old dog! Fine old doggie--"The dog's eyes followed the rising form with confidence, wagging histail in protest against his going.
The hand gripped the brass33 hilt of the cutlass, the polished steelwhizzed through the air and crashed into the yellow mass of flesh andbones.
His aim was bad in the dark. He missed the dog's head and the swordsplit the body lengthwise. To the man's amazement34 a piercing howl ofagony rang through the woods.
He dropped his sword and gripped the quivering throat and held it in avise of steel until the writhing35 body was still at last.
Inside the darkened cabin, the mother stirred from an uneasy sleep. Sheshook her husband and listened intently. The only sound that came fromwithout was the chirp36 of crickets and the distant call of a coyote fromthe hill across the creek.
She held her breath and listened again. The man by her side sleptsoundly. She couldn't understand why her heart persisted in pounding.
There wasn't the rustle37 of a leaf outside. The wind had died down withthe falling night. It couldn't be more than eleven o'clock.
Her husband's breathing was deep and regular. His perfect rest and thesense of strength in his warm body restored her poise38. She felt theslender forms of her little girls in the trundle bed and tried to goback to sleep.
It was useless. In spite of every effort her eyes refused to close.
Again she was sure she had heard the dog's cry in the night. Shebelieved that it was an ugly dream. The dawn of a beautiful Sundaymorning would find all well in the little home and her faithful dogagain wagging his tail at the door asking for breakfast.
She listened to the beating of her foolish heart. Wide awake, she beganto murmur31 a prayer of thanks to God for all His goodness and mercy inthe new home He had given.
As Owen's hands slowly relaxed from the throat of the lifeless bodyhe seized a handful of leaves and wiped the blood from the blade andreplaced it in the scabbard.
He rose quickly and gave the signal to advance. Again crouching39 low,moving with the soft tread of beasts of prey, the hunters closed in onthe settler's home.
The keen ears of the mother, still wide awake, caught the crunch40 of feeton the gravel41 of the walk. With a heart pounding again in alarm sheraised her head and listened. From the other side of the house came therustle of leaves stirred by another swiftly approaching footstep. Itwas so still she could hear her own heart beat again. There could be nomistake about it this time.
She gripped her husband's arm:
"John!"He moaned drowsily42.
"John--John--""What's matter?" he murmured without lifting his head from the pillow.
"Get up quick!""What for?" he groaned43.
"There's somebody around the house.""Na.""I tell you--yes!""Hit's the dawgs.""I heard a man's step on the path, I tell you.""Yer dreamin', ole woman--""I'm not, I tell ye.""Go back to sleep."The man settled again and breathed deeply.
The woman remained on her elbow, listening with every nerve strained inagony.
Again she heard a step on the gravel. This time another footfall joinedthe first. She gripped her husband's shoulders and shook him violently.
"John, John!" she whispered.
He had half roused himself this time, shocked into consciousness by hertrembling grip on his shoulders. But above all by the tremor44 in herwhispered call.
"What is it, Mahala?""For God's sake, get up quick and call the boys down outen the loft45.""No!" he growled46.
"I tell you, there's somebody outside--"They were both sitting on the edge of the bed now, speaking in whispers.
"You're dreamin', ole 'oman," he persisted.
"I heard 'em. There's more'n one. I heard some on the other side of thehouse. I heard two in front. Call the boys down--""Don't wake the boys up fer nothin--""Is yer gun loaded?""No.""Oh, my God.""I ain't got no powder. I don't kill game in the springtime."They both listened. All was still. They could hear the breathing of thelittle girls in the trundle bed.
The crunch of feet suddenly came to the doorstep. The woman's handgripped her husband's arm in terror. He heard it now.
"That's funny," he mused47.
"Call the boys!" the mother pleaded.
"_Wait_ till we find out what it is--"A firm knock on the door echoed through the darkened room.
"God save us!" the woman breathed.
Doyle rose and quietly walked to the door.
"What is it?" he called in friendly tones.
"We're lost in the woods," a voice answered.
His wife had followed and gripped his arm.
"Don't open that door.""Wait, Mother--""We're trying to find the way to Mr. Wilkinson's--can you tell us?""Sure I can."He moved to open the door. Again his wife held him.
"Don't do it!"Doyle brushed her aside.
"Don't be foolish, Mahala," he protested indignantly. "I'm a poor sorto' man if I can't tell a lost traveler the way out of the woods.""They're lyin'!""We'll see."He raised the latch48 and six men crashed their way through the door. JohnBrown led the assault. He held a dim lantern in his hand which he liftedabove his head, as he surveyed the room. He kept his own face in shadow.
With a smothered49 cry, the mother backed against the trundle bedinstinctively covering the sleeping figures of the girls.
Brown pointed51 a cocked revolver at Doyle's breast and said in coldtones:
"Call those three boys down."Doyle hesitated.
Brown's eye glanced down the barrel of his revolver:
"Quick!"The man saw he had no chance.
He mounted the ladder, the revolver following him. The mother'sterror-stricken eyes saw that each man was armed with two revolvers, abowie knife and cutlass.
"Don't you scare 'em," Brown warned.
"I won't.""Tell 'em to come down and show us the way to Wilkinson's.""Boys!" the father called.
There was no answer at first, and the father wondered if they had heardand gotten weapons of some kind. He hoped not. It would be a uselesshorror to try to defend themselves before a mother's eyes, and thoselittle girls screaming beside her.
He hastened to call a second time and reassure52 their fears.
"Boys!"William, the older one, answered drowsily:
"Yessir--""Come down, all of you. Some travelers are here who've lost the way.
They want you to help them get to Mr. Wilkinson's.""All right, sir."The boys hastily slipped on their trousers and shoes.
"Tell 'em to hurry," Brown ordered.
"Jest slip on yer shoes and britches," Doyle called.
The Surveyor held the lantern behind his body until the three sons hadcome down the ladder and he saw that they were unarmed.
He stepped to the fireplace, took the shotgun from the rack and handedit to Weiner.
The boys, startled at the group of stern armed men, instinctively50 movedtoward their father, dazed by the assault.
Brown faced the group.
"You four men are my prisoners."The mother left the trundle bed and faced the leader.
"Who are you?"Brown dropped his lantern, fixed53 her with his eyes.
"I am the leader of the Northern Army.""What are you doing here to-night?""I have come on a divine mission.""Who sent you?""The Lord of Hosts in a Vision--""What are you going to do?""The will of God.""What are you going to do?" she fairly screamed in his face.
"That is not for your ears, woman," was the stern answer. "I haveimportant business with Southern settlers on the Pottawattomieto-night."The woman's intuition saw in a flash the hideous54 tragedy. With a cry ofanguish she threw her arms around her husband's neck, sobbing55.
"Oh, John, John, my man, I told ye not to talk--but ye would tell folkswhat ye believed. Why couldn't ye be still? Oh, my God, my God, it'scome to this!"The man soothed57 her with tender touch.
"Hush58, Mother, hush. You mustn't take on.""I can't help it--I just can't. God have mercy on my poor lost soul--"She paused and looked at her boys.
With a scream she threw herself first on one and then on the other.
"Oh, my big fine boy! I can't let you go! Where is God to-night? Is Hedead? Has He forgotten me?"The father drew her away and shook her sternly.
"Hush, Mother, hush! Yer can't show the white feather like this!""I can't help it. I can't give up my boys!"She paused and looked at Doyle.
"And I can't give you up, my man--I just can't!""Don't, don't--" the husband commanded. "We've got to be men now."She fought hard to control her tears. The little girls began to sob56. Sherushed to the trundle bed and soothed them.
"Keep still, babies. They won't hurt you. Keep still!"The children choked into silence and she leaped toward Brown and triedto seize his hand. He repulsed59 her and she went on frantically60.
"Please, for God's sake, man, have mercy on a wife and mother, if youain't got no pity in your heart for my men! Surely you have womenhome. Their hearts can break like mine. My man's only been talkin' aspoliticians talk. It was nothing. Surely it's no crime."Brown drew a notebook from his pocket and held it up.
"I have the record in this book of your husband's words against the menof our party, Madame. He stands convicted of murder in his heart. Hissons are not of age. Their opinions are his."For a moment the mother forgot her pleading and shrieked61 her defianceinto the stern face before her.
"And who made you a judge o' life and death for my man and my sons? Ibore these boys of the pains of my body. God gave them to me. They aremine, not yours!"Brown brushed her aside.
"That's enough from you. Those men are my prisoners. Bring them on!"He moved toward the door and the guards with drawn62 swords closed in onthe group.
The mother leaped forward and barred the way to the door. She facedBrown with blanched63 face. Her breath came in short gasps65. She foughtdesperately for control of her voice, failed to make a sound, staggeredto the old man, grasped blindly his body and sank to her knees at hisfeet.
At last she managed to gasp64:
"Just one of my boys--then--my baby boy! He's a big boy--but look at hissmooth face--he ain't but fourteen years old. Hit don't seem butyistiday that he wuz just a laughin' baby in my arms! And I've alwaysbeen that proud of him. He's smart. He's always been smart--and Godforgive me--I've loved him better'n all the others--hit--wuzn't--right--fer--a--mother--to--love one of her--children--more--than--the--others--but I couldn't help it! If ye'll just spare him--hit's all I'll ask yenow"--her voice sank into a sob as her face touched the floor.
The dark figure above her did not move and she lifted her head withdesperate courage.
"I'll be all alone here--a broken-hearted woman with two little gals66 andnobody to help me--or work fer me--ef you'll just spare my baby boy--"She sprang to her feet and threw her arms around the youngest boy'sneck.
"Oh, my baby, my baby, I can't let ye go--I can't--I can't!"She lifted her tear-streaming eyes to the dark face again.
"Please, please, for the love ofGod--you--say--you--believe--in--God--leave me this one!"Brown moved his head in a moment's uncertainty67. He turned to Owen.
"Leave him and come on with the others."With a desperate cry, the mother closed her eyes and clung to the boy.
She dared not lift them in prayer for the others as they passed out intothe night.
The armed men had seized her husband and her two older sons, William andDrury, and hustled68 them through the door. The mother drew the boy backon the trundle bed and held him in her arms. The little girls crouchedclose and began to sob.
"Hush--don't make a noise. They won't hurt you. I want to hear what theydo--maybe--"The mother stopped short, fascinated by the horror of the tragedy sheknew would take place outside her door. The darkness gave no token ofits progress. A cricket was chirping69 in the chimney just awakened70 by thenoise.
She held her breath and listened. Not a sound. The silence wasunbearable. She sprang to her feet in a moment's fierce rebellionagainst the crime of such an infamous71 attack. A roused lioness, sheleaped to the mantel to seize the shotgun.
John followed and caught her.
"The gun's gone, Ma," he cried.
"Yes, yes, I forgot," she gasped72. "They took it, the damned fiends!""Ma, Ma, be still!" the boy pleaded. He was horror-stricken at the oathfrom her lips. In all his life he had never heard her use a vulgar word.
"Yes, of course," she faltered73. "I mustn't try to do anything. Theymight come back and kill you--my baby boy!"She pressed him again to her heart and held him. She strained her earsfor the first signal of the deed the darkness shrouded74.
The huntsmen dragged the father and two sons but a hundred and fiftyyards from the door and halted beside the road. Brown faced the fatherin the dim starlight.
"You are a Southern white man?""I am, sir.""You are pro-Slavery?""I hate the sight and sound of a slave.""But you believe in the institution?""I hate it, I tell you."Brown paused as if his brain had received a shock. The answer had beenutterly unexpected. The man was in earnest. He meant what he said. Andhe was conscious of the solemnity of the trial on which his life hung.
Brown came back to his cross examination, determined75 to convict him onthe grounds he had fixed beforehand.
"What do you mean when you say that you hate the institution ofSlavery?""Exactly what I say.""You do not believe in owning slaves?""I do not.""Did you ever own one?""No!""And you never expect to own one?""Never.""Why did you rush into this Territory among the first to cross theborder?""I come West to get away from niggers, and bring my children up in awhite man's country."Quick as a flash came the crucial question from lips that had neversmiled. It was the triumphant76 scream of an eagle poised77 to strike. Hehad him at last.
"Then you don't believe the negro to be your brother and your equal--doyou?"The poor white man's body suddenly stiffened78 and his chin rose:
"No, by God, I don't believe that!"John Brown lifted his hand in a quick signal and Owen stepped stealthilybehind Doyle. The sharpened cutlass whistled through the air and crashedinto Doyle's skull79. His helpless hands were lifted instinctively as hestaggered. The swift descending80 blade split the right hand open andsevered the left from the body before he crumpled81 in a heap on theground. The assassin placed his knee on the prostrate82 figure and plungedhis knife three times in the breast,--once through the heart and oncethrough each lung. He had learned the art in butchering cattle.
Fifty yards away the mangled83 bodies of William and Drury Doyle lay onthe ground with the dim figure of the assassin bending low to make surethat no sign of life remained.
John Brown raised the wick of his lantern and walked coolly up tothe body of the elder Doyle. He flashed the lantern on the distortedfeatures. A look of religious ecstasy84 swept the stern face of thePuritan and his eyes glittered with an unearthly glare.
He uttered a sound that was half a laugh and half a religious shout,snatched his pistol from his belt, placed the muzzle within an inch ofthe dead skull and fired. The brains of the corpse85 splashed the muzzleof the revolver.
The trembling mother inside the cabin uttered a low cry of horror andcrumpled in the arms of her son.
The boy dragged her to the bed and rushed to the kitchen for a cup ofwater. He dashed it in her face and cried for joy when she breathedagain. He didn't mind the moans and sobs86. The thought that she, too,might be dead had stopped his very heartbeat.
He soothed her at last and sat holding her hand in the dark. The girlsnestled against her side. The mother gave no sign that she was consciousof their presence.
Her spirit was outside the cabin now, hovering87 in the darkness mourningher dead. Through the dread88 hours of the night she sat motionless,listening, dreaming.
No sounds came from the darkness. The coyote had ceased to call. Thecricket in the chimney slept at last.
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1
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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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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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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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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whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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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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36
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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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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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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51
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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58
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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gals
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| abbr.gallons （复数）加仑（液量单位）n.女孩，少女( gal的名词复数 ) | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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chirping
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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81
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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83
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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84
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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85
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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86
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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87
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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88
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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