They streamed northeast through the defiles2, a tattered3 rabble4, a swarm5 of locusts6, eating up the land as they went. The wounded were jostled along in rough litters, at the mercy of camp barbers and renegade quacks7; the majority died on the way and were thankful to die. The infantry8 straggled for miles (half rode donkeys) and drove before them cattle, sheep, goats and a few women prisoners. What with stopping to requisition and pillage9 they progressed at an average of twelve miles a day. Only among the negroes and the cavalry10 was there any semblance11 of march discipline, and then only because the general kept them close about him as protection against his other troops.
Beside Ortho rode the Arab girl, her feet strapped12 under the mule13’s belly14. Twice she tried to escape—once by a blind bolt into the foothills, once by a surer, sharper road. She had wriggled15 across the tent and pulled a knife out of its sheath with her teeth. Osman had caught her just as she was on the point of rolling on it. Ortho had to tie her up at night and watch her all day long. Never had he encountered such implacable resolve. She was determined16 to foil him one way or the other at no matter what cost to herself. He had always had his own way with women and this failure irritated him. He would stick it as long as she, he swore—and longer.
Osman Baki was entertained. He watched the contest with twinkling china blue eyes—his mother had been a Georgian slave and he was as fair as a Swede.
“She will leave you—somehow,” he warned.
“For whom? For what?” Ortho exclaimed. “If she slips past me the infantry will catch her, or some farmer who will beat her life out. Why does she object to me? I have treated her kindly17—as kindly as she will allow.”
Osman twirled his little yellow mustache. “Truly, but these people have no reason, only a mad pride. One cannot reason with madness, Kaid. Oh, I know them. When I was in the service of the deys . . .”
He delivered an anecdote18 from his unexampled repertoire19 proving the futility20 of arguing with a certain class of Arab with anything more subtle than a bullet.
“Sell her in Morocco,” he advised. “She is pretty, will fetch a good sum.”
“No, I’m going to try my hand first,” said Ortho stubbornly.
“You’ll get it bitten,” said the Turk, eying the telltale marks on Ortho’s face with amusement. “For my part I prefer a quiet life—in the home.”
They straggled into Morocco City ten days later to find the Sultan in residence for the winter, building sanctuaries21 and schools with immense energy.
Ortho hoped for the governorship of an outlying post where he would be more or less his own master, get some pig-hunting and extort22 backsheesh from the country folk under his protection; but it was not to be. He was ordered to quarter his stalwarts in the kasba and join the Imperial Guard. Having been in the Guard before at Mequinez, having influence in the household and getting a wind-fall in the way of eight months’ back pay, he contrived24 to bribe25 himself into possession of a small house overlooking the Aguedal Gardens, close to the Ahmar Gate.
There he installed the Arab girl and a huge old negress to look after her.
Then he set to and gave his unfortunate men the stiffening26 of their lives.
He formed his famous black horses into one troop, graded the others by colors and drilled the whole all day long.
Furthermore, he instituted a system of grooming27 and arm-cleaning hitherto unknown in the Moroccan forces—all on the Fleischmann recipe. Did his men show sulks, he immediately up-ended and bastinadoed them. This did not make him popular, but Osman Baki supported him with bewildered loyalty28 and he kept the mokadem and the more desperate rascals29 on his side by a judicious30 distribution of favors and money. Nevertheless he did not stroll abroad much after dark and then never unattended.
They drilled in the Aguedal, on the bare ground opposite the powder house, and acquired added precision from day to day. Ortho kept his eye on the roof of the powder house.
For two months this continued and Ortho grew anxious. What with household expenses and continued douceurs to the mokadem his money was running out and he was sailing too close to the wind to try tricks with his men’s rations31 and pay at present.
Just when things were beginning to look desperate a party appeared on the roof of the powder house, which served the parade ground as a grand-stand.
Ortho, ever watchful32, saw them the moment they arrived, brought his command into squadron column, black troop to the fore1, and marched past underneath33.
They made a gallant34 show and Ortho knew it. Thanks to the grooming, his horses were looking fifty per cent better than any other animals in the Shereefian Army; the uniformity added another fifty. The men knew as well as he did who was looking down on them, and went by, sitting stiff, every eye fixed35 ahead.
The lusty sun set the polished hides aglow36, the burnished37 lance-heads a-glitter. The horses, fretted38 by sharp stirrups, tossed their silky manes, whisked their streaming tails. The wind got into the burnooses and set them flapping and billowing in creamy clouds; everything was in his favor. Ortho wheeled the head of his column left about, formed squadron line on the right and thundered past the Magazine, his shop-window troop nearest the spectators, shouting the imperial salute39, “Allah y barek Amer Sidi!” A good line too, he congratulated himself, as good as any Makhzen cavalry would achieve in this world. If that didn’t work nothing would. It worked.
A slave came panting across the parade ground summoning him to the powder house at once.
The Sultan was leaning against the parapet, sucking a pomegranate and spitting the pips at his Grand Vizier, who pretended to enjoy it. The fringes of the royal jellab were rusty40 with brick dust from the ruins of Bel Abbas, which Mahomet was restoring. Ortho did obeisance41 and got a playful kick in the face; His Sublimity42 was in good humor.
He recognized Ortho immediately. “Ha! The lancer who alone defied the Bou Khari, still alive! Young man, you must indeed be of Allah beloved!” He looked the soldier up and down with eyes humorous and restless. “What is your rank?”
“Kaid Mia, Sidi.”
“Hum!—thou art Kaid Rahal now, then.” He turned on the Vizier. “Tell El Mechouar to let him take what horses he chooses; he knows how to keep them. Go!”
He flung the fruit rind at Ortho by way of dismissal.
Ortho gave his long-suffering men a feast that night with the last ready money in his possession. They voted him a right good fellow—soldiers have short memories.
He was on his feet now. As Kaid Rahal, with nominally43 a thousand cut-throats at his beck and nod, he would be a fool indeed if he couldn’t blackmail44 the civilians45 to some order. Also there was a handsome sum to be made by crafty46 manipulation of his men’s pay and rations. El Mechouar would expect his commission out of this, naturally, and sundry47 humbler folk—“big fleas48 have little fleas . . .”—but there would be plenty left. He was clear of the financial thicket49. He went prancing50 home to his little house, laid aside his arms and burnoose, took the key from the negress, ran upstairs and unlocked the room in which the Arab girl, Ourida, was imprisoned51. It was a pleasant prison with a window overlooking the Aguedal, its miles of pomegranate, orange, and olive trees. It was the best room in the house and he had furnished it as well as his thin purse would afford, but to the desert girl it might have been a tomb.
She sat all day staring out of the barred window, looking beyond the wide Haouz plain to where the snow peaks of the High Atlas52 rose, a sheer wall of sun-lit silver—and beyond them even. She never smiled, she never spoke53, she hardly touched her food. Ortho in all his experience had encountered nothing like her. He did his utmost to win her over, brought sweetmeats, laughed, joked, retailed54 the gossip of the palace and the souks, told her stories of romance and adventure which would have kept any other harem toy in shivers of bliss55, took his gounibri and sang Romany songs, Moorish56 songs, English ballads57, flowery Ottoman kasidas, ghazels and g?listans, learned from Osman Baki, cursed her, adored her.
All to no avail; he might have been dumb, she deaf. Driven desperate, he seized her in his arms; he had as well embraced so much ice. It was maddening. Osman Baki, who watched him in the lines of a morning, raving59 at the men over trifles, twisted his yellow mustache and smiled. This evening, however, Ortho was too full of elation60 to be easily repulsed61. He had worked hard and intrigued62 steadily63 for this promotion64. Three years before he had landed in Morocco a chained slave, now he was the youngest of his rank in the first arm of the service. Another few years at this pace and what might he not achieve? He bounded upstairs like a lad home with a coveted65 prize, told the girl of his triumph, striding up and down the room, flushed, laughing, smacking66 his hands together, boyish to a degree. He looked his handsomest, a tall, picturesque67 figure in the plum-colored breeches, soft riding boots, blue kaftan and scarlet68 tarboosh tilted69 rakishly on his black curls. The girl stole a glance at him from under her long lashes70, but when he looked at her she was staring out of the window at the snow wall of the Atlas rose-flushed with sunset, and when he spoke to her she made no answer; he might as well have been talking to himself. But he was too full of his success to notice, and he rattled71 on and on, pacing the little room up and down, four strides each way. He dropped beside her, put his arm about her shoulders, drew her cold cheek to his flushed one.
“Listen, my pearl,” he rhapsodized. “I have money now and you shall have dresses like rainbows, a gold tiara and slave girls to wait on you, and when we move garrison72 you shall ride a white ambling73 mule with red trappings and lodge74 in a striped tent like the royal women. I am a Kaid Rahal now, do you hear? The youngest of any, and in the Sultan’s favor. I will contrive23 and scheme, and in a few years . . . the Standard!—eschkoun-i-araf? And then, my honey-sweet, you shall have a palace with a garden and fountains. Hey, look!”
He scooped75 in his voluminous breeches’ pockets, brought out a handful of trinkets and tossed them into her lap. The girl stared at him, then at the treasures, and drew a sharp breath. They were her own, the jewelry76 he had wrenched77 from her on that wild night of carnage three months before.
“You thought I had sold them—eh?” he laughed. “No, no, my dear; it very nearly came to it, but not quite. They are safe now and yours again—see?”
He seized her wrists and worked the bangles on, snapped the crude black necklace round her neck and hung the elaborate gold one over it, kissed her full on the quivering mouth. “Yours again, for always.”
She ran the plump black beads78 through her fingers, her breathing quickened. She glanced at him sideways, shyly; there was an odd light in her eyes. She swayed a little towards him, then the corners of her mouth twitched79 and curved upwards80 in an adorable bow; she was smiling, smiling! He held out his arms to her and she toppled into them, burying her face in his bosom81.
“My lord!” said she.
The proud lady had surrendered at last!
“Osman, Osman Baki, what now?” thought Ortho and crushed her to him.
The girl made a faint, pained exclamation82 and put her hand to her throat.
“No, my lord, but you have snapped my necklace,” she laughed. “It is nothing.”
He picked up the black beads, wondering how he could have done it, and she put them down on the rug beside her.
“It is a poor thing, but a great saint has blessed it. My king, take me in your arms again.”
They sat close together while the rosy84 peaks faded out and the swift winter dusk filled the room, and he told her of the great things he would do. Elation swept him up. Everything seemed possible now with this slim, clinging beauty to solace85 and inspire him. He would trample86 on and on, scattering87 opposition88 like straw, carving89 his own road, a captain of destiny. She believed in his bravest boasts. Her lord had but to will a thing and it was done. Who could withstand her lord? “Not I, not I,” said she. “Hearken, tall one. I said to my heart night and day, ‘Hate this Roumi askar, hate him, hate him!’—but my heart would not listen, it was wiser than I.”
She nestled luxuriously90 in his arms, crooning endearments91, melting and passionate92, sweeter than honey in the honey-comb. It grew dark and cold. He went to the door and called for the brazier.
“And tea,” Ourida added. “I would serve you with tea, my heart’s joy.”
The negress brought both.
Ourida rubbed her head against his shoulder. “Sweetmeats?” she cooed.
He jerked his last blanquils to the slave with the order.
Ourida squatted93 cross-legged on a pile of cushions and poured out the sweet mint tea, handed him his cup with a mock salaam94. He did obeisance as before a Sultana, and she rippled95 with delight. They made long complimentary96 speeches to each other after the manner of the court, played with each other’s hands, were very childish and merry.
“Rest here and be comfortable,” said she, drawing his head to her.
“Tell me again about that battle with the Bou Khari.”
He told her in detail, omitting the salient fact that his horse had bolted with him, though, in truth, he had almost forgotten it himself by now.
“All alone you faced them! Small wonder Sidi Mahomet holds thee in high honor, my hero. And the fight in the Rif?”
He told her all about the guerrilla campaign among the rock fastnesses of the Djebel Tiziren, of a single mountaineer with a knife crawling through the troop-lines at night and sixty ham-strung horses in the morning.
Ourida was entranced. “Go on, my lord, go on.”
Ortho went on. He didn’t want to talk. He was most comfortable lying out on the cushions, his head on the girl’s soft lap. Moreover, his heavy day in the sun and wind had made him extraordinarily98 drowsy—but he went on. He told her of massacres99 and burnt villages, of ambushes100 and escapes, of three hundred rebels rising out of a patch of cactus101 no bigger than a sheep pen and rushing in among the astonished lancers, screaming and slashing102. The survivors103 of that affair had fled up the opposite hillside flat on their horses’ necks and himself among the foremost, but he did not put it that way; he said he “organized the retreat.”
“More,” breathed Ourida.
He began to tell her of five fanatics104 with several muskets105 and quantities of ammunition106 shut up in a saint’s shrine107 and defying the entire Shereefian forces for two days, but before he had got halfway108 his voice tailed off into silence.
“You do not speak, light of my life?”
“I am sleepy—and comfortable, dearest.”
Ourida smoothed his cheek. “Sleep then with thy slave for pillow.”
He felt her lips touch his forehead, her slim fingers running through his curls, through and through . . . through . . . and . . . through . . .
“My lord sleeps?” came Ourida’s voice from miles away, thrilling strangely.
“Um . . . ah! . . . almost,” Ortho mumbled109. “Where . . . you . . . going?” She had slipped from under him; he had an impulse to grasp her hand, then felt it was too much trouble.
“Listen, Sa?d el Ingliz,” said Ourida in his ear, enunciating with great clarity. “You are going to sleep forever, you swine!”
He forced his weighted lids apart. She was bending right over him. He could see her face by the glow of the brazier, transformed, exultant110; her teeth were locked together and showing; her eyes glittered.
“Drugged, by God!” thought Ortho. “Drugged, poisoned, fooled like a fat palace eunuch!”
Fury came upon him. He fought the drowse with all the power that was in him, sat up, fell back again.
He tried to shout for help, for the negress, achieved a whisper.
“She has gone for sweetmeats and will loiter hours,” mocked the girl. “Call louder; call up your thousand fine lancers. Oh, great Kaid Rahal, Standard Bearer to be!”
“Osman—they will crush you . . . between . . . stones . . . for this,” he mumbled.
She shook her head. “No, great one, they will not catch me. I have three more poisoned beads.” She held up the remnant of her black necklace.
So that was how it was done. In the tea. By restoring her the trinkets he had compassed his own end. His eyelids113 drooped114, he was away, adrift again in that old dream he had had, rocking in the smuggler’s boat under Black Carn, floating through star-trembling space, among somber115 continents of cloud, a wraith116 borne onwards, downwards117 on streaming air-ways into everlasting118 darkness.
“Great Lord of lances,” came a whisper out of nowhere. “When thou art in Gehenna thou wilt119 remember me, thy slave.”
He fought back to consciousness, battled with smothering120 wraps of swansdown, through fogs of choking gray and yellow, through pouring waters of oblivion, came out sweating into the light, saw through a haze58 a shadow girl bending over him, the red glimmer121 of the brazier.
With an immense effort he lifted his foot into the coals, bit hard into his under-lip. “Not yet, not yet!”
The girl displayed amusement. “Wouldst burn before thy time? Burn on. Thou wilt take no more women of my race against their wish, Kaid—or any other women—though methinks thy lesson is learned overlate.
“Why fight the sleep, Roumi? It will come, it will come. The Rif herb never fails.” On she went with her bitter raillery, on and on.
But Ortho was holding his own. He was his mother’s son and had inherited all her marvelous vitality122. The pain in his burnt foot was counteracting123 the drowse, sweat was pouring out of him. The crisis was past. Could he but crawl to the door? Not yet; in a minute or two. That negress must be back soon. He bit into his bleeding lip again, closed his eyes. The girl bent124 forward eagerly.
“It is death, Kaid. Thou art dying, dying!”
“No, nor shall I,” he muttered, and instantly realized his mistake.
“Open your eyes!” She forced his lids up.
“Failed!”
“Failed!” Ortho repeated.
“Bah! there are other means,” she snarled126, jumped up, flitted round the room, stood transfixed in thought in the center, both hands to her cheeks, laughed, tore off her orange scarf and dropped on her knees beside him.
“Other means, Kaid.” She slipped the silk loop round his neck, knotted it and twisted.
She was going to strangle him, the time-hallowed practice of the East. He tried to stop her, lifted his heavy hands, but they were powerless, like so much dead wood. He swelled127 his neck muscles, but it was useless; the silk was cutting in all round, a red-hot wire. He had a flash picture of Osman Baki standing128 over his body, wagging his head regretfully and saying, “I said so,” Osman Baki with the Owls’ House for background. It was all over; the girl had waited and got him in the end. Even at that moment he admired her for it. She had spirit; never had he seen such spirit. Came a pang129 of intolerable pain, his eyeballs were starting out, his head was bursting open—and then the tension at his throat inexplicably130 relaxed.
Ortho rolled over, panting and retching, and as he did so heard footsteps on the stairs.
He peered into the room, holding a lantern before him. “Kaid, are you there? Where are you? There is a riot of Draouia in the Djeema El Fna; two troops to go out. Oh, there you are—Bismillah! What is this?”
He sprang across to where Ortho lay and bent over him.
“What is the matter? Are you ill? What is it?”
“Nothing,” Ortho croaked132. “Trying hasheesh . . . took too much . . . nothing at all. See to troops yourself . . . go now.” He coughed and coughed.
“Hasheesh!” The Turk sniffed133, stared at him suspiciously, glanced round the room, caught sight of the girl and held up the lantern.
“Ha-ha!”
The two stood rigid134 eye to eye, the soldier with chin stuck forward, every hair bristling135, like a mastiff about to spring, the girl unflinching, three beads of her black necklace in her teeth.
“Ha-ha!” Osman put the lantern deliberately136 on the ground beside him and stepped forward, crouched137 double, his hands outstretched like claws. “You snake,” he muttered. “You Arab viper138, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”
Ortho hoisted139 himself on his elbow. The girl was superb! So slight and yet so defiant140. “Osman,” he rasped, “Osman, friend, go! The riot! Go, it is an order!”
The Turk stopped, stood up, relaxed, turned slowly about and picked up the lantern. He looked at Ortho, walked to the door, hesitated, shot a blazing glance at the girl, gave his mustache a vicious tug141 and went out.
Then Ortho heard the soft plud-plud of bare feet crossing the room and he knew the girl was standing over him.
“Well, sweet,” he sighed, “come to complete your work? I am still in your hands.”
She tumbled on her knees beside him, clasped his head to her breast and sobbed144, sobbed, sobbed as though she would never stop.
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1
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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defiles
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| v.玷污( defile的第三人称单数 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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locusts
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| n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 )；贪吃的人；破坏者；槐树 | |
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7
quacks
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| abbr.quacksalvers 庸医，骗子(16世纪习惯用水银或汞治疗梅毒的人)n.江湖医生( quack的名词复数 )；江湖郎中；（鸭子的）呱呱声v.（鸭子）发出嘎嘎声( quack的第三人称单数 ) | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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pillage
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| v.抢劫；掠夺；n.抢劫，掠夺；掠夺物 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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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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wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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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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anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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repertoire
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| n.(准备好演出的)节目，保留剧目；(计算机的)指令表，指令系统， <美>(某个人的)全部技能；清单，指令表 | |
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futility
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sanctuaries
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extort
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| v.勒索，敲诈，强要 | |
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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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grooming
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| n. 修饰, 美容，（动物）梳理毛发 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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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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36
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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38
fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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39
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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40
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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41
obeisance
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| n.鞠躬，敬礼 | |
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42
sublimity
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| 崇高，庄严，气质高尚 | |
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43
nominally
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| 在名义上，表面地； 应名儿 | |
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44
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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45
civilians
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| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
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46
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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47
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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48
fleas
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| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
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49
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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50
prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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51
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
atlas
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| n.地图册，图表集 | |
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53
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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54
retailed
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| vt.零售（retail的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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55
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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56
moorish
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| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
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57
ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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58
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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59
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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60
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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61
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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62
intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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63
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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64
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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65
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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66
smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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67
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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68
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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69
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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70
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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71
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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72
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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73
ambling
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的现在分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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74
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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75
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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76
jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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77
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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78
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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79
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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80
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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81
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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82
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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83
contrite
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| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
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84
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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85
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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86
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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87
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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88
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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89
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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90
luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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91
endearments
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| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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92
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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93
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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94
salaam
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| n.额手之礼，问安，敬礼；v.行额手礼 | |
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95
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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96
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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97
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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98
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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99
massacres
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| 大屠杀( massacre的名词复数 )； 惨败 | |
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100
ambushes
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| n.埋伏( ambush的名词复数 )；伏击；埋伏着的人；设埋伏点v.埋伏( ambush的第三人称单数 )；埋伏着 | |
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101
cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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102
slashing
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| adj.尖锐的；苛刻的；鲜明的；乱砍的v.挥砍( slash的现在分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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103
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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104
fanatics
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| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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105
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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106
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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107
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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108
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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109
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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111
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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112
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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113
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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114
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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116
wraith
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| n.幽灵；骨瘦如柴的人 | |
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117
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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118
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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119
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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120
smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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121
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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122
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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123
counteracting
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| 对抗，抵消( counteract的现在分词 ) | |
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124
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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125
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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127
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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128
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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129
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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130
inexplicably
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| adv.无法说明地，难以理解地，令人难以理解的是 | |
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131
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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133
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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134
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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135
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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136
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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137
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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138
viper
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| n.毒蛇；危险的人 | |
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139
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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140
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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141
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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142
sputter
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| n.喷溅声；v.喷溅 | |
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143
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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144
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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