What! You don’t know either of them? Hm! Of course it could hardly be expected that you should be acquainted with Tránsita,[66] for she lives on a back street on the other side of the river and comes very seldom to the plaza5. And probably you could not talk with her, anyhow, since her speech is only Spanish and Quichua. But not to know Arequipa—why that is to count out the prettiest city in Peru, and one of the oldest in America. And if you do not know the daughter you have missed the father, too, which is an even greater pity—for he is one of the handsomest giants on earth, though a baby in his own family. Well, well—the sooner I give you an introduction the better, then.
The Misti is an inactive but living volcano, a hundred miles from the sea, in southern Peru. As I have said, it ranks small at home, being only 19,300 feet tall, while some of its brother Andes tower to 26,000 feet. But few of them are so handsome. It stands alone and erect7, with head up and shoulders squared, while some of them look as if the nurse had dropped them in their babyhood and they had never got their spines8 straight again. It is a huge and very perfect cone9, symmetrical as the sacred peak of Japan, but vastly higher. So steep is it that the thick blanket of volcanic10 cinders11 would surely slip down from its shoulders, except for the long brooches[67] of dead lava12 that pin it up. As for its head, that is old with eternal snow.
For time unknown—since long before history—the Misti has been the best known mountain in Peru; and I do not much wonder. It has a nobility of its own, such as its mightier13 brethren do not all possess. Just to its right vast Charchani climbs 20,000 feet into the sky, and a most majestic14 peak it is. Just to its left towers the grand wall of Pichu-pichu, itself taller than the greatest mountain in the United States. But it is always the lone6, solemn Misti, to which every one looks, of which every one speaks—with a strange mixture of love and awe15. Meeting an Arequipe?o abroad, you might very likely fancy there were no other mountains in sight of his home; but you will not be left long in ignorance that there is a Misti. Even before Europeans knew of America, the remarkable16 Indians of Peru half worshiped the Misti; and so Arequipa gets its name, an Aymará word which means “with the peak behind it.” Far up its deadly sides they toiled17 to make their sacrifices to Those Above; and even in the elder crater18 I have counted the ruins of aboriginal19 shrines20. It is so isolated21, so individual, so majestic in its awful stature22; and above all, while its neighbor brothers[68] are just mountains, it has a soul—the wondrous23 fire-soul of the volcano.
A stern father is the Misti. His daughter is surely not undutiful, but many a time he has punished her sorely. Many a time he has sent her sprawling24 in the dust, and turned her smiling whiteness to a generation of mourning. So, even as late as 1868 over half the buildings of Arequipa went down in a mortal chaos25 of stone, killing26 as many people as fall in an ordinary battle.
One might fancy that such a parent would get himself disliked; but his severity does not seem to be laid up against him. Arequipa loves the Misti—and as for Tránsita, she loved him even more than she did Arequipa. Their house faced south, but the first thing in the morning Tránsita used to climb to the stone-arched roof to look at the peak black against the rising sun; and the last thing at evening to watch the rosy27 west-glow upon that venerable head. And always she wondered the more, for now as she grew taller, and the untaught soul had room to swell28, she saw more and more in that great dark one with his elephant-wrinkled hide and the lava scars on his white head, and now and then, of a hushed dawn, the ghost of a cloud floating plume-like from his brow. Perhaps it was because he is so[69] incomprehensible a giant that she comprehended him—in that child way which is more at home in some mysteries than we older stupids are. At all events, she turned to him for companionship and confidences, and had a way of talking with him ever so softly, that no one else should hear.
“Now, taita,” she was whispering this morning, “hast thou heard what is to be? For they say that the Tuerto, the cross-eyed, who oppressed us before, is to make new revolution, that he may be president again and rob himself still richer. And it has always been in Arequipa that they begin. Dost thou think it? And would they kill Eugénio? For he is very loyal, and is one of importance, being a corporal. Do not let them hurt my brother—wilt thou, taita?”
To all these questions and the adjuration29 the giant answered never a word. His face was grave with the morning shadows. To look at him no one but Tránsita would have dreamed he knew anything about it.
Nor do I really know that he did, though he had the best of opportunities. From that lookout30 in the sky, so overtopping the town, he could see right into the high-walled court of Don Telesfor’s mansion31. It was a flat old courtyard, paved with tipsy blocks of[70] stone and framed four-square with long shadowy verandas32 of the white sillar.[18] In the center was a long-forgotten fountain, and at the middle of each side a quaint4 staircase of the same white tufa ran up to the cracked and precarious33 sillar roof. No one was to be seen about the court. Only, along the eastern portal[19] was a long ridge34 of fresh earth.
Don Telesfor was making repairs. A great many people in Arequipa had long been free to say that he ought to mend his ways, and the old place might certainly count as a way that should be mended. His career as prefect, years before, had been by no means free from charges of extortion and thievery, and it was notorious that he would be glad to see again in the presidential chair the unscrupulous usurper35 who had grown from pauper36 soldier to many-times millionaire in one term. For this reason Don Telesfor was as little beloved as his old patron; and poor cholos, with better love than understanding of freedom, took malicious38 pleasure in laying the scourge39 to their two backs jointly40. “Look at the Cacerist!” they would growl41 audibly[71] when Don Telesfor thundered down the reeling cobblestones on his silver trapped horse. As for his house, I fancy not one of them ever passed it after nightfall, with a bit of chalk in his pocket (and chalk is the last thing to be without in Peru during a campaign), but he stopped and scrawled42 in elastic43 Spanish upon the outer wall: “Death to the tyrant44 and his leeches45! Down with the cross-eyed!”
But though he was unpopular in person and politics, no one thought of taking Don Telesfor very seriously. Like his patron, he had turned tail when the Chilean wolves came down on the fold; and unlike him, his caution was greater than his greed. Every one knew him for timorous46. The unhappy republic was torn and pale with fear of a new usurpation47; but in all the whisperings and the glances over the shoulder, Don Telesfor was quite forgotten. Since the downfall of the pretender he had been quietly cultivating his pretty chacra at Yura, and now even thought to patch up the old mansion in Arequipa, long tousled and neglected since the terrible temblor of ’68. This was praiseworthy and reassuring49, too. In those troublous times to think rather of beautifying and restoring the home was clearly a pledge of peace.
[72]
Sober burros, each laden50 with two big white blocks of sillar, had been trudging51 down from the lofty quarries52, and the tottering53 arches of the courtyard had been rebuilt. Now, Don Telesfor was hauling rich soil all the way from his plantation54 to make flower beds in the patio48.[20] Some felt that the soil of Arequipa ought to be good enough for any flower; but if he chose to haul dirt twelve miles instead of one, that was his lookout. So the crazy wagons55 creaked across the ancient stone bridge every afternoon and bumped into the courtyard, and were relieved of their mules56. Don Telesfor was always on hand in person to attend to the unloading—he and his nephew, Don Beltran, and two old peons—while the drivers took their animals to the acéquia. One would have thought that loam57 sacred, by the care he took of it.
Just now the big gates were shut. The wagons would not be in from Yura for some time yet. Along the east side of the patio was the long mound58 of soil, paling in the hot sun; aside from that, one might have thought the place abandoned.
But if one could have peered through the heavy doors of the middle room of the north portal one would have seen Don Telesfor[73] and Don Beltran and half a dozen strangers talking low and earnestly. The windows and even the skylight were shuttered, and the one candle sent strange shadows sprawling over a formidable row of long, shallow, iron-bound boxes stained with fresh earth.
“To-morrow night, then,” said one of the strangers, laying his hand on Don Telesfor’s shoulder. “Even so it will begin in Lima on the eve of the new congress, and all is set that the revolution burst in the same hour in Truxillo, Cuzco, here and all Peru. And carrying it off well here in the south, who knows but Don Telesfor shall earn a place in the new cabinet?”
“ójala!” sighed Don Telesfor, his mouth twitching59 greedily. “At all events, this end is safe. I promise you no one so much as suspects us, and with the two hundred men that will sleep here to-night hidden, we can easily put down any resistance. The guárdias are the only danger; for, being cholos[21] they all worship Piérola, and it avails not the trying to buy them. The only argument with such stupids is to rap them the back of the head—and for that, thirty secure men are appointed to hide upon the beat and silence each his policeman.[74] By midnight that should all be settled without noise, and then we will fall upon the barracks. A hundred soldiers, asleep, have nothing to say with us; and in the morning Arequipa will waken to find herself in our ranks.”
“Nothing lacks, then?”
“Nothing. All is understood. Forty rifles are still to come, but they will be here in an hour, or maybe two, for the carts move slowly.”
“Aye, and ready to bloom,” answered Don Telesfor, smiling grimly at the jest.
“And, methinks, with enough thorns—ay diós! What?”
For a deep, far roar crept through the closed shutters62; a Babel of howling curs and crowing cocks and the jangle of church bells. Before one could fairly turn to look at his neighbor it was as if that whole room of stone had suddenly been dropped twenty feet, as one might drop a bird cage to the floor. The heavy boxes and the standing37 men and the massive furniture were tossed as feathers in a gust63 of air. The wide stone vault64 overhead yawned and let in a foot of sky, and shivered as if to fall, and then as swiftly clapped its ragged65 teeth[75] shut again, while a great dust filled the room to choking. Then all was still as the grave, and for a few seconds nothing moved. At last the men scrambled66 to their feet, pale and hushed, and stood looking blankly at one another.
“Ea! But I like not your Arequipa temperament,” faltered67 the tallest of the strangers. “It is too impulsive68. Not if you gave me three Arequipas would I dwell here!”
“Pues, it is nothing,” answered Don Telesfor, coolly. “Only in the being accustomed. These temblores are fearsome, but we think little of them. To the street, when the shock comes, lest the walls thump69 us on the heads; and then back into the house, as if there had been nothing. As for this one, it is a good omen70. El Misti gives us the hand that he is with us for an overturning.”
Tránsita, sitting upon the stone coping of her own roof, had a clearer view of the earthquake, and her opinion certainly did not coincide with that of Don Telesfor. It was a perfect day, as most days in Arequipa are, but something in the air made her nervous and ill at ease, and all the morning she had been perched up there[76] confiding71 her fears to the great peak. Below, the street was still echoing the rumble72 of clumsy carts high heaped with earth. She had paid little attention to them or their clamor. Her thoughts were for Eugénio, and her anxiety about him seemed to grow. So groundlessly, too. The national unrest was everywhere, but vague and undefined. No one knew any specific cause for alarm, and she least of all. Now, if her ears had been sharp enough to hark across to that barred room a mile away, where Don Telesfor was at that very moment saying: “The only argument with such stupids is to rap them the back of the head.” And “such stupids” meant precisely73 Eugénio and his fellow-soldiers, the military police of the city.
Six wagons had already turned the corner toward the bridge and were out of sight. As the straggling seventh and last trundled past the house the teamster, seeing that squat74 figure up there, tossed at it a pebble75 from his load. Tránsita only shrugged76 her shoulder at the tap. She was too busy with her thoughts to so much as turn around. “Much care of Eugénio,” she murmured. “And if truly there be of these Cacerists here, confound them, taita!”
[77]
As she raised her eyes to the great peak a swift chill ran through her. She was sure the Misti nodded, as if he had heard her words. Surely the giant moved! Far spurts77 of dust rose from his shoulders, and dark masses came leaping down, and the great profile seemed to lose its sharpness. She winked78 hard to be sure of her eyes, and now the Misti moved no more. But from the corrals roundabout rose a bedlam79; and Chopo ran out, barking frantically80, and the ancient cottonwoods up by the mill suddenly bowed their heads as to a hurricane. The acéquia bank split and the stream came panicking out. The tall wall back of Eusébio’s house was rent from top to bottom, and two-foot blocks of sillar flew all about. The very roof on which she sat—a massive arch of stone, as are nearly all the roofs of Arequipa—went up and down as if a heavy wave had passed under it. The coping spilled into the street; and Tránsita was left clinging on the broken edge, her face hanging over. There were wild screams, and every one stood, as by magic, in the middle of the street, looking up at the tottering walls. And in the self-same breath it was all done, and no sign was left save the shattered blocks of stone, the truant81 acéquia[78] and a tall cloud of yellow dust that went bellying82 off toward Charchani.
Yes, one thing more. Tránsita lay bewildered a moment, and then began to look about, still without moving. Every one was going back into the houses, laughing nervously83, a few children crying. In another moment the street was deserted84. It was as if that thousand people had been a return-ball, to pop one instant into sight, and in another back with the recoil85 of the elastic. But down by the empty hovels over the way was a cart, broken across in halves. Two dazed mules were trying clumsily to right themselves with the forward end of the wreck86, while the rear half was tossed up on the narrow sidewalk against the ruined walls. The load of earth had been unceremoniously dumped into the gutter87, and the cholo driver, half overwhelmed by it, lay motionless along the curb88.
At that, Tránsita was upon her feet at once, nor paused until she was tugging89 at the teamster’s arms. The dirt was heaped upon his legs, and he had fainted with the pain, and such a dead weight she could not budge90. She dropped the limp shoulders and began to claw the loose earth away. In a moment the left foot was free; but as she dragged it out, the dirt slipped down and[79] revealed the corner of an iron-bound box resting upon the other leg. A sudden impulse led her to sweep back the soil until the end of the case was uncovered. The funny black marks there meant nothing to Tránsita—indeed, if any one had spelled out for her the “M-a-double-n-l-i-c-h-e-r,” I seriously doubt if that grewsome German name would have made her any the wiser. But if she did not know letters from ten-penny nails, and was equally ignorant of the inventions and the existence of Germany, Tránsita was no fool. For a moment her brown face looked more than usually dull. Then a slow grayness crept into it, and there was a hitch91 in her breath.
She looked up at the Misti appealingly, and then down at the box, staring as if fascinated. Presently the rather heavy jaw92 set stubbornly. She lifted the corner of the box an inch, by a violent effort, pried93 her shin against the sharp edge to hold it, and laboriously94 dragged out the imprisoned95 foot. Then she scraped the earth over until the box was well hidden again, and leaving the liberated96 but unconscious teamster where he lay, went racing97 down the street like one gone daft.
“This is a pretty story to bring to the cuartel, daughterling,” said Captain Yrribarri,[80] fifteen minutes later. Corporal Eugénio had no sooner heard his sister’s breathless message than he brought her before the commanding officer, and there she had rehearsed it all, unshaken by questionings and banter98. “It has to be true,” she declared, over and over, “else mi taita Misti never would have showed me.”
“A girl’s nonsense,” the grave officer repeated. “And still—what do any boxes, thus hidden in loads of earth, and in these times? I mind me, now, that Don Telesfor has been hauling earth all the way from Yura these many weeks, when there is better at Carmen Alto. It is fit to be looked into, and by the saints, if thy guess is true, little one, thou shalt be corporal, or thy brother sergeant99! Oyez, Eugénio! With a squad100 of thirty men surround Don Telesfor’s house and hold it tight that it leak not, while Pedro goes with five to verify the cart and the box. If that is nothing, they will report to you and you will return to quarters with the tongue behind the teeth; but if they shall find arms in the cart, keep the house and warn me.”
For my own part, I do not overly love the soldier-police of Arequipa, and have sometimes been angry enough to want to choke them for murdering my sleep with their[81] abominable101 midnight whistles. But after all, I am glad that they were not all knocked on the head the night after the earthquake; for in spite of their ignorance and their skin and their ear-piercing way of announcing “All’s well,” they are a kindly102, honest, well meaning set, who could be much better utilized103 than by clubbing. And particularly Eugénio, who is a very good boy and likes to talk with me, calling me “your grace.” He has told me many interesting things, and often sent a cholo to “tote” my heavy camera around. Sergeant Eugénio now, please—for Tránsita declined to be a corporal when the search revealed not only the one case of Mannlicher rifles in the dirt under the wrecked104 cart, but thirty cases more in Don Telesfor’s house, along with papers which left no doubt of his treason. Some fellow-conspirator must have warned him in time of the wayside accident, for though Eugénio and his men kept the house fully105 surrounded until a report came from the cart, when they broke in there was not a soul to be found.
None of the other plotters were known, and Don Telesfor eluded106 pursuit. It may or may not be true, as, I have been told, that he took asylum107 in Bolivia and was afterward108 drowned in trying to ford109 the Choqueyapu[82] during a freshet; but, at all events, he never came back to revive his nipped revolution.
As for Tránsita, you might just as well try to tell her that the Misti is not there at all as that “He” did not specially110 and intentionally111 interpose to save the peace of his daughters and the head of Eugénio. I half believe her brother is secretly of the same opinion, for the superstition112 of the peak is very strong in Arequipa; though he shrugs113 his shoulders in a deprecatory way when put the direct question, and says evasively:
“Pues, who knows? So the women declare. For me it is enough that he did it, and in time, the same as if he knew.”
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1
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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spines
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| n.脊柱( spine的名词复数 )；脊椎；（动植物的）刺；书脊 | |
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cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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volcanic
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| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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cinders
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| n.煤渣( cinder的名词复数 )；炭渣；煤渣路；煤渣跑道 | |
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lava
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| n.熔岩，火山岩 | |
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mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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crater
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| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
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aboriginal
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| adj.（指动植物）土生的，原产地的，土著的 | |
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shrines
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| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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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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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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adjuration
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| n.祈求，命令 | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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verandas
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| 阳台，走廊( veranda的名词复数 ) | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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usurper
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| n. 篡夺者, 僭取者 | |
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pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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jointly
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| ad.联合地，共同地 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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leeches
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| n.水蛭( leech的名词复数 )；蚂蟥；榨取他人脂膏者；医生 | |
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timorous
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| adj.胆怯的，胆小的 | |
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usurpation
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| n.篡位；霸占 | |
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patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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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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51
trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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52
quarries
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| n.（采）石场( quarry的名词复数 )；猎物（指鸟，兽等）；方形石；（格窗等的）方形玻璃v.从采石场采得( quarry的第三人称单数 )；从（书本等中）努力发掘（资料等）；在采石场采石 | |
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53
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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54
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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55
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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56
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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57
loam
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| n.沃土 | |
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58
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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59
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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60
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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62
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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63
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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64
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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65
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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66
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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67
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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68
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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69
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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70
omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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71
confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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72
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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73
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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74
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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75
pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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76
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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77
spurts
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| 短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 )； 突然奋起 | |
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78
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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79
bedlam
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| n.混乱，骚乱；疯人院 | |
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80
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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81
truant
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| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
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82
bellying
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| 鼓出部；鼓鼓囊囊 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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84
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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85
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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86
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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87
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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88
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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89
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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90
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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91
hitch
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| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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93
pried
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| v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的过去式和过去分词 )；撬开 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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95
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96
liberated
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| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
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97
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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98
banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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99
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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100
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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101
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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102
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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103
utilized
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| v.利用，使用( utilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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105
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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106
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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107
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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108
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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109
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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110
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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111
intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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112
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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113
shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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