In high flood this great acreage of sand, shingle-beds, and willow-grown islands is almost topped by the water, but in normal seasons the bushes bend and rustle6 in the free winds, showing their silver leaves to the sunshine in an ever-moving plain of bewildering beauty. These willows7 never attain8 to the dignity of trees; they have no rigid9 trunks; they remain humble10 bushes, with rounded tops and soft outline, swaying on slender stems that answer to the least pressure of the wind; supple11 as grasses, and so continually shifting that they somehow give the impression that the entire plain is moving and alive. For the wind sends waves rising and falling over the whole surface, waves of leaves instead of waves of water, green swells12 like the sea, too, until the branches turn and lift, and then silvery white as their underside turns to the sun.
Happy to slip beyond the control of the stern banks, the Danube here wanders about at will among the intricate network of channels intersecting the islands everywhere with broad avenues down which the waters pour with a shouting sound; making whirlpools, eddies13, and foaming14 rapids; tearing at the sandy banks; carrying away masses of shore and willow-clumps; and forming new islands innumerably which shift daily in size and shape and possess at best an impermanent life, since the flood-time obliterates16 their very existence.
Properly speaking, this fascinating part of the river's life begins soon after leaving Pressburg, and we, in our Canadian canoe, with gipsy tent and frying-pan on board, reached it on the crest18 of a rising flood about mid-July. That very same morning, when the sky was reddening before sunrise, we had slipped swiftly through still-sleeping Vienna, leaving it a couple of hours later a mere19 patch of smoke against the blue hills of the Wienerwald on the horizon; we had breakfasted below Fischeramend under a grove20 of birch trees roaring in the wind; and had then swept on the tearing current past Orth, Hainburg, Petronell (the old Roman Carnuntum of Marcus Aurelius), and so under the frowning heights of Thelsen on a spur of the Carpathians, where the March steals in quietly from the left and the frontier is crossed between Austria and Hungary.
Racing21 along at twelve kilometers an hour soon took us well into Hungary, and the muddy waters—sure sign of flood—sent us aground on many a shingle-bed, and twisted us like a cork22 in many a sudden belching23 whirlpool before the towers of Pressburg (Hungarian, Poszony) showed against the sky; and then the canoe, leaping like a spirited horse, flew at top speed under the grey walls, negotiated safely the sunken chain of the Fliegende Brucke ferry, turned the corner sharply to the left, and plunged25 on yellow foam15 into the wilderness26 of islands, sandbanks, and swamp-land beyond—the land of the willows.
The change came suddenly, as when a series of bioscope pictures snaps down on the streets of a town and shifts without warning into the scenery of lake and forest. We entered the land of desolation on wings, and in less than half an hour there was neither boat nor fishing-hut nor red roof, nor any single sign of human habitation and civilization within sight. The sense of remoteness from the world of humankind, the utter isolation27, the fascination28 of this singular world of willows, winds, and waters, instantly laid its spell upon us both, so that we allowed laughingly to one another that we ought by rights to have held some special kind of passport to admit us, and that we had, somewhat audaciously, come without asking leave into a separate little kingdom of wonder and magic—a kingdom that was reserved for the use of others who had a right to it, with everywhere unwritten warnings to trespassers for those who had the imagination to discover them.
Though still early in the afternoon, the ceaseless buffetings of a most tempestuous29 wind made us feel weary, and we at once began casting about for a suitable camping-ground for the night. But the bewildering character of the islands made landing difficult; the swirling30 flood carried us in shore and then swept us out again; the willow branches tore our hands as we seized them to stop the canoe, and we pulled many a yard of sandy bank into the water before at length we shot with a great sideways blow from the wind into a backwater and managed to beach the bows in a cloud of spray. Then we lay panting and laughing after our exertions31 on the hot yellow sand, sheltered from the wind, and in the full blaze of a scorching32 sun, a cloudless blue sky above, and an immense army of dancing, shouting willow bushes, closing in from all sides, shining with spray and clapping their thousand little hands as though to applaud the success of our efforts.
"What a river!" I said to my companion, thinking of all the way we had traveled from the source in the Black Forest, and how he had often been obliged to wade33 and push in the upper shallows at the beginning of June.
"Won't stand much nonsense now, will it?" he said, pulling the canoe a little farther into safety up the sand, and then composing himself for a nap.
I lay by his side, happy and peaceful in the bath of the elements—water, wind, sand, and the great fire of the sun—thinking of the long journey that lay behind us, and of the great stretch before us to the Black Sea, and how lucky I was to have such a delightful34 and charming traveling companion as my friend, the Swede.
We had made many similar journeys together, but the Danube, more than any other river I knew, impressed us from the very beginning with its aliveness. From its tiny bubbling entry into the world among the pinewood gardens of Donaueschingen, until this moment when it began to play the great river-game of losing itself among the deserted swamps, unobserved, unrestrained, it had seemed to us like following the grown of some living creature. Sleepy at first, but later developing violent desires as it became conscious of its deep soul, it rolled, like some huge fluid being, through all the countries we had passed, holding our little craft on its mighty35 shoulders, playing roughly with us sometimes, yet always friendly and well-meaning, till at length we had come inevitably36 to regard it as a Great Personage.
How, indeed, could it be otherwise, since it told us so much of its secret life? At night we heard it singing to the moon as we lay in our tent, uttering that odd sibilant note peculiar37 to itself and said to be caused by the rapid tearing of the pebbles38 along its bed, so great is its hurrying speed. We knew, too, the voice of its gurgling whirlpools, suddenly bubbling up on a surface previously39 quite calm; the roar of its shallows and swift rapids; its constant steady thundering below all mere surface sounds; and that ceaseless tearing of its icy waters at the banks. How it stood up and shouted when the rains fell flat upon its face! And how its laughter roared out when the wind blew up-stream and tried to stop its growing speed! We knew all its sounds and voices, its tumblings and foamings, its unnecessary splashing against the bridges; that self-conscious chatter40 when there were hills to look on; the affected41 dignity of its speech when it passed through the little towns, far too important to laugh; and all these faint, sweet whisperings when the sun caught it fairly in some slow curve and poured down upon it till the steam rose.
It was full of tricks, too, in its early life before the great world knew it. There were places in the upper reaches among the Swabian forests, when yet the first whispers of its destiny had not reached it, where it elected to disappear through holes in the ground, to appear again on the other side of the porous42 limestone43 hills and start a new river with another name; leaving, too, so little water in its own bed that we had to climb out and wade and push the canoe through miles of shallows.
And a chief pleasure, in those early days of its irresponsible youth, was to lie low, like Brer Fox, just before the little turbulent tributaries44 came to join it from the Alps, and to refuse to acknowledge them when in, but to run for miles side by side, the dividing line well marked, the very levels different, the Danube utterly45 declining to recognize the newcomer. Below Passau, however, it gave up this particular trick, for there the Inn comes in with a thundering power impossible to ignore, and so pushes and incommodes the parent river that there is hardly room for them in the long twisting gorge46 that follows, and the Danube is shoved this way and that against the cliffs, and forced to hurry itself with great waves and much dashing to and fro in order to get through in time. And during the fight our canoe slipped down from its shoulder to its breast, and had the time of its life among the struggling waves. But the Inn taught the old river a lesson, and after Passau it no longer pretended to ignore new arrivals.
This was many days back, of course, and since then we had come to know other aspects of the great creature, and across the Bavarian wheat plain of Straubing she wandered so slowly under the blazing June sun that we could well imagine only the surface inches were water, while below there moved, concealed48 as by a silken mantle49, a whole army of Undines, passing silently and unseen down to the sea, and very leisurely50 too, lest they be discovered.
Much, too, we forgave her because of her friendliness51 to the birds and animals that haunted the shores. Cormorants52 lined the banks in lonely places in rows like short black palings; grey crows crowded the shingle-beds; storks53 stood fishing in the vistas54 of shallower water that opened up between the islands, and hawks55, swans, and marsh5 birds of all sorts filled the air with glinting wings and singing, petulant56 cries. It was impossible to feel annoyed with the river's vagaries57 after seeing a deer leap with a splash into the water at sunrise and swim past the bows of the canoe; and often we saw fawns58 peering at us from the underbrush, or looked straight into the brown eyes of a stag as we charged full tilt59 round a corner and entered another reach of the river. Foxes, too, everywhere haunted the banks, tripping daintily among the driftwood and disappearing so suddenly that it was impossible to see how they managed it.
But now, after leaving Pressburg, everything changed a little, and the Danube became more serious. It ceased trifling60. It was half-way to the Black Sea, within seeming distance almost of other, stranger countries where no tricks would be permitted or understood. It became suddenly grown-up, and claimed our respect and even our awe61. It broke out into three arms, for one thing, that only met again a hundred kilometers farther down, and for a canoe there were no indications which one was intended to be followed.
"If you take a side channel," said the Hungarian officer we met in the Pressburg shop while buying provisions, "you may find yourselves, when the flood subsides62, forty miles from anywhere, high and dry, and you may easily starve. There are no people, no farms, no fishermen. I warn you not to continue. The river, too, is still rising, and this wind will increase."
The rising river did not alarm us in the least, but the matter of being left high and dry by a sudden subsidence of the waters might be serious, and we had consequently laid in an extra stock of provisions. For the rest, the officer's prophecy held true, and the wind, blowing down a perfectly63 clear sky, increased steadily64 till it reached the dignity of a westerly gale65.
It was earlier than usual when we camped, for the sun was a good hour or two from the horizon, and leaving my friend still asleep on the hot sand, I wandered about in desultory66 examination of our hotel. The island, I found, was less than an acre in extent, a mere sandy bank standing67 some two or three feet above the level of the river. The far end, pointing into the sunset, was covered with flying spray which the tremendous wind drove off the crests68 of the broken waves. It was triangular69 in shape, with the apex70 up stream.
I stood there for several minutes, watching the impetuous crimson71 flood bearing down with a shouting roar, dashing in waves against the bank as though to sweep it bodily away, and then swirling by in two foaming streams on either side. The ground seemed to shake with the shock and rush, while the furious movement of the willow bushes as the wind poured over them increased the curious illusion that the island itself actually moved. Above, for a mile or two, I could see the great river descending72 upon me; it was like looking up the slope of a sliding hill, white with foam, and leaping up everywhere to show itself to the sun.
The rest of the island was too thickly grown with willows to make walking pleasant, but I made the tour, nevertheless. From the lower end the light, of course, changed, and the river looked dark and angry. Only the backs of the flying waves were visible, streaked73 with foam, and pushed forcibly by the great puffs74 of wind that fell upon them from behind. For a short mile it was visible, pouring in and out among the islands, and then disappearing with a huge sweep into the willows, which closed about it like a herd75 of monstrous76 antediluvian77 creatures crowding down to drink. They made me think of gigantic sponge-like growths that sucked the river up into themselves. They caused it to vanish from sight. They herded78 there together in such overpowering numbers.
Altogether it was an impressive scene, with its utter loneliness, its bizarre suggestion; and as I gazed, long and curiously79, a singular emotion began to stir somewhere in the depths of me. Midway in my delight of the wild beauty, there crept, unbidden and unexplained, a curious feeling of disquietude, almost of alarm.
A rising river, perhaps, always suggests something of the ominous80; many of the little islands I saw before me would probably have been swept away by the morning; this resistless, thundering flood of water touched the sense of awe. Yet I was aware that my uneasiness lay deeper far than the emotions of awe and wonder. It was not that I felt. Nor had it directly to do with the power of the driving wind—this shouting hurricane that might almost carry up a few acres of willows into the air and scatter81 them like so much chaff82 over the landscape. The wind was simply enjoying itself, for nothing rose out of the flat landscape to stop it, and I was conscious of sharing its great game with a kind of pleasurable excitement. Yet this novel emotion had nothing to do with the wind. Indeed, so vague was the sense of distress83 I experienced, that it was impossible to trace it to its source and deal with it accordingly, though I was aware somehow that it had to do with my realization84 of our utter insignificance85 before this unrestrained power of the elements about me. The huge-grown river had something to do with it too—a vague, unpleasant idea that we had somehow trifled with these great elemental forces in whose power we lay helpless every hour of the day and night. For here, indeed, they were gigantically at play together, and the sight appealed to the imagination.
But my emotion, so far as I could understand it, seemed to attach itself more particularly to the willow bushes, to these acres and acres of willows, crowding, so thickly growing there, swarming86 everywhere the eye could reach, pressing upon the river as though to suffocate88 it, standing in dense89 array mile after mile beneath the sky, watching, waiting, listening. And, apart quite from the elements, the willows connected themselves subtly with my malaise, attacking the mind insidiously90 somehow by reason of their vast numbers, and contriving91 in some way or other to represent to the imagination a new and mighty power, a power, moreover, not altogether friendly to us.
Great revelations of nature, of course, never fail to impress in one way or another, and I was no stranger to moods of the kind. Mountains overawe and oceans terrify, while the mystery of great forests exercises a spell peculiarly its own. But all these, at one point or another, somewhere link on intimately with human life and human experience. They stir comprehensible, even if alarming, emotions. They tend on the whole to exalt92.
With this multitude of willows, however, it was something far different, I felt. Some essence emanated93 from them that besieged94 the heart. A sense of awe awakened95, true, but of awe touched somewhere by a vague terror. Their serried96 ranks, growing everywhere darker about me as the shadows deepened, moving furiously yet softly in the wind, woke in me the curious and unwelcome suggestion that we had trespassed97 here upon the borders of an alien world, a world where we were intruders, a world where we were not wanted or invited to remain—where we ran grave risks perhaps!
The feeling, however, though it refused to yield its meaning entirely98 to analysis, did not at the time trouble me by passing into menace. Yet it never left me quite, even during the very practical business of putting up the tent in a hurricane of wind and building a fire for the stew-pot. It remained, just enough to bother and perplex, and to rob a most delightful camping-ground of a good portion of its charm. To my companion, however, I said nothing, for he was a man I considered devoid99 of imagination. In the first place, I could never have explained to him what I meant, and in the second, he would have laughed stupidly at me if I had.
There was a slight depression in the center of the island, and here we pitched the tent. The surrounding willows broke the wind a bit.
"A poor camp," observed the imperturbable100 Swede when at last the tent stood upright, "no stones and precious little firewood. I'm for moving on early tomorrow—eh? This sand won't hold anything."
But the experience of a collapsing101 tent at midnight had taught us many devices, and we made the cozy102 gipsy house as safe as possible, and then set about collecting a store of wood to last till bed-time. Willow bushes drop no branches, and driftwood was our only source of supply. We hunted the shores pretty thoroughly103. Everywhere the banks were crumbling104 as the rising flood tore at them and carried away great portions with a splash and a gurgle.
"The island's much smaller than when we landed," said the accurate Swede. "It won't last long at this rate. We'd better drag the canoe close to the tent, and be ready to start at a moment's notice. I shall sleep in my clothes."
He was a little distance off, climbing along the bank, and I heard his rather jolly laugh as he spoke105.
"By Jove!" I heard him call, a moment later, and turned to see what had caused his exclamation106. But for the moment he was hidden by the willows, and I could not find him.
"What in the world's this?" I heard him cry again, and this time his voice had become serious.
I ran up quickly and joined him on the bank. He was looking over the river, pointing at something in the water.
"Good heavens, it's a man's body!" he cried excitedly. "Look!"
A black thing, turning over and over in the foaming waves, swept rapidly past. It kept disappearing and coming up to the surface again. It was about twenty feet from the shore, and just as it was opposite to where we stood it lurched round and looked straight at us. We saw its eyes reflecting the sunset, and gleaming an odd yellow as the body turned over. Then it gave a swift, gulping107 plunge24, and dived out of sight in a flash.
It was an otter, alive, and out on the hunt; yet it had looked exactly like the body of a drowned man turning helplessly in the current. Far below it came to the surface once again, and we saw its black skin, wet and shining in the sunlight.
Then, too, just as we turned back, our arms full of driftwood, another thing happened to recall us to the river bank. This time it really was a man, and what was more, a man in a boat. Now a small boat on the Danube was an unusual sight at any time, but here in this deserted region, and at flood time, it was so unexpected as to constitute a real event. We stood and stared.
Whether it was due to the slanting110 sunlight, or the refraction from the wonderfully illumined water, I cannot say, but, whatever the cause, I found it difficult to focus my sight properly upon the flying apparition112. It seemed, however, to be a man standing upright in a sort of flat-bottomed boat, steering114 with a long oar17, and being carried down the opposite shore at a tremendous pace. He apparently115 was looking across in our direction, but the distance was too great and the light too uncertain for us to make out very plainly what he was about. It seemed to me that he was gesticulating and making signs at us. His voice came across the water to us shouting something furiously, but the wind drowned it so that no single word was audible. There was something curious about the whole appearance—man, boat, signs, voice—that made an impression on me out of all proportion to its cause.
"He's crossing himself!" I cried. "Look, he's making the sign of the
Cross!"
"I believe you're right," the Swede said, shading his eyes with his hand and watching the man out of sight. He seemed to be gone in a moment, melting away down there into the sea of willows where the sun caught them in the bend of the river and turned them into a great crimson wall of beauty. Mist, too, had begun to ruse116, so that the air was hazy117.
"But what in the world is he doing at nightfall on this flooded river?" I said, half to myself. "Where is he going at such a time, and what did he mean by his signs and shouting? D'you think he wished to warn us about something?"
"He saw our smoke, and thought we were spirits probably," laughed my companion. "These Hungarians believe in all sorts of rubbish; you remember the shopwoman at Pressburg warning us that no one ever landed here because it belonged to some sort of beings outside man's world! I suppose they believe in fairies and elementals, possibly demons118, too. That peasant in the boat saw people on the islands for the first time in his life," he added, after a slight pause, "and it scared him, that's all."
The Swede's tone of voice was not convincing, and his manner lacked something that was usually there. I noted119 the change instantly while he talked, though without being able to label it precisely120.
"If they had enough imagination," I laughed loudly—I remember trying to make as much noise as I could—"they might well people a place like this with the old gods of antiquity121. The Romans must have haunted all this region more or less with their shrines122 and sacred groves123 and elemental deities124."
The subject dropped and we returned to our stew-pot, for my friend was not given to imaginative conversation as a rule. Moreover, just then I remember feeling distinctly glad that he was not imaginative; his stolid125, practical nature suddenly seemed to me welcome and comforting. It was an admirable temperament126, I felt; he could steer113 down rapids like a red Indian, shoot dangerous bridges and whirlpools better than any white man I ever saw in a canoe. He was a grand fellow for an adventurous127 trip, a tower of strength when untoward128 things happened. I looked at his strong face and light curly hair as he staggered along under his pile of driftwood (twice the size of mine!), and I experienced a feeling of relief. Yes, I was distinctly glad just then that the Swede was—what he was, and that he never made remarks that suggested more than they said.
"The river's still rising, though," he added, as if following out some thoughts of his own, and dropping his load with a gasp129. "This island will be under water in two days if it goes on."
The flood, indeed, had no terrors for us; we could get off at ten minutes' notice, and the more water the better we liked it. It meant an increasing current and the obliteration130 of the treacherous131 shingle-beds that so often threatened to tear the bottom out of our canoe.
Contrary to our expectations, the wind did not go down with the sun. It seemed to increase with the darkness, howling overhead and shaking the willows round us like straws. Curious sounds accompanied it sometimes, like the explosion of heavy guns, and it fell upon the water and the island in great flat blows of immense power. It made me think of the sounds a planet must make, could we only hear it, driving along through space.
But the sky kept wholly clear of clouds, and soon after supper the full moon rose up in the east and covered the river and the plain of shouting willows with a light like the day.
We lay on the sandy patch beside the fire, smoking, listening to the noises of the night round us, and talking happily of the journey we had already made, and of our plans ahead. The map lay spread in the door of the tent, but the high wind made it hard to study, and presently we lowered the curtain and extinguished the lantern. The firelight was enough to smoke and see each other's faces by, and the sparks flew about overhead like fireworks. A few yards beyond, the river gurgled and hissed132, and from time to time a heavy splash announced the falling away of further portions of the bank.
Our talk, I noticed, had to do with the faraway scenes and incidents of our first camps in the Black Forest, or of other subjects altogether remote from the present setting, for neither of us spoke of the actual moment more than was necessary—almost as though we had agreed tacitly to avoid discussion of the camp and its incidents. Neither the otter nor the boatman, for instance, received the honor of a single mention, though ordinarily these would have furnished discussion for the greater part of the evening. They were, of course, distinct events in such a place.
The scarcity133 of wood made it a business to keep the fire going, for the wind, that drove the smoke in our faces wherever we sat, helped at the same time to make a forced draught134. We took it in turn to make some foraging135 expeditions into the darkness, and the quantity the Swede brought back always made me feel that he took an absurdly long time finding it; for the fact was I did not care much about being left alone, and yet it always seemed to be my turn to grub about among the bushes or scramble136 along the slippery banks in the moonlight. The long day's battle with wind and water—such wind and such water!—had tired us both, and an early bed was the obvious program. Yet neither of us made the move for the tent. We lay there, tending the fire, talking in desultory fashion, peering about us into the dense willow bushes, and listening to the thunder of wind and river. The loneliness of the place had entered our very bones, and silence seemed natural, for after a bit the sound of our voices became a trifle unreal and forced; whispering would have been the fitting mode of communication, I felt, and the human voice, always rather absurd amid the roar of the elements, now carried with it something almost illegitimate. It was like talking out loud in church, or in some place where it was not lawful137, perhaps not quite safe, to be overheard.
The eeriness138 of this lonely island, set among a million willows, swept by a hurricane, and surrounded by hurrying deep waters, touched us both, I fancy. Untrodden by man, almost unknown to man, it lay there beneath the moon, remote from human influence, on the frontier of another world, an alien world, a world tenanted by willows only and the souls of willows. And we, in our rashness, had dared to invade it, even to make use of it! Something more than the power of its mystery stirred in me as I lay on the sand, feet to fire, and peered up through the leaves at the stars. For the last time I rose to get firewood.
"When this has burnt up," I said firmly, "I shall turn in," and my companion watched me lazily as I moved off into the surrounding shadows.
For an unimaginative man I thought he seemed unusually receptive that night, unusually open to suggestion of things other than sensory139. He too was touched by the beauty and loneliness of the place. I was not altogether pleased, I remember, to recognize this slight change in him, and instead of immediately collecting sticks, I made my way to the far point of the island where the moonlight on plain and river could be seen to better advantage. The desire to be alone had come suddenly upon me; my former dread140 returned in force; there was a vague feeling in me I wished to face and probe to the bottom.
When I reached the point of sand jutting141 out among the waves, the spell of the place descended142 upon me with a positive shock. No mere "scenery" could have produced such an effect. There was something more here, something to alarm.
I gazed across the waste of wild waters; I watched the whispering willows; I heard the ceaseless beating of the tireless wind; and, one and all, each in its own way, stirred in me this sensation of a strange distress. But the willows especially; for ever they went on chattering143 and talking among themselves, laughing a little, shrilly144 crying out, sometimes sighing—but what it was they made so much to-do about belonged to the secret life of the great plain they inhabited. And it was utterly alien to the world I knew, or to that of the wild yet kindly146 elements. They made me think of a host of beings from another plane of life, another evolution altogether, perhaps, all discussing a mystery known only to themselves. I watched them moving busily together, oddly shaking their big bushy heads, twirling their myriad147 leaves even when there was no wind. They moved of their own will as though alive, and they touched, by some incalculable method, my own keen sense of the horrible.
There they stood in the moonlight, like a vast army surrounding our camp, shaking their innumerable silver spears defiantly148, formed all ready for an attack.
The psychology149 of places, for some imaginations at least, is very vivid; for the wanderer, especially, camps have their "note" either of welcome or rejection150. At first it may not always be apparent, because the busy preparations of tent and cooking prevent, but with the first pause—after supper usually—it comes and announces itself. And the note of this willow-camp now became unmistakably plain to me; we were interlopers, trespassers; we were not welcomed. The sense of unfamiliarity151 grew upon me as I stood there watching. We touched the frontier of a region where our presence was resented. For a night's lodging152 we might perhaps be tolerated; but for a prolonged and inquisitive153 stay—No! by all the gods of the trees and wilderness, no! We were the first human influences upon this island, and we were not wanted. The willows were against us.
Strange thoughts like these, bizarre fancies, borne I know not whence, found lodgment in my mind as I stood listening. What, I thought, if, after all, these crouching154 willows proved to be alive; if suddenly they should rise up, like a swarm87 of living creatures, marshaled by the gods whose territory we had invaded, sweep towards us off the vast swamps, booming overhead in the night—and then settle down! As I looked it was so easy to imagine they actually moved, crept nearer, retreated a little, huddled155 together in masses, hostile, waiting for the great wind that should finally start them a-running. I could have sworn their aspect changed a little, and their ranks deepened and pressed more closely together.
The melancholy156 shrill145 cry of a night-bird sounded overhead, and suddenly I nearly lost my balance as the piece of bank I stood upon fell with a great splash into the river, undermined by the flood. I stepped back just in time, and went on hunting for firewood again, half laughing at the odd fancies that crowded so thickly into my mind and cast their spell upon me. I recalled the Swede's remark about moving on next day, and I was just thinking that I fully111 agreed with him, when I turned with a start and saw the subject of my thoughts standing immediately in front of me. He was quite close. The roar of the elements had covered his approach.
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1
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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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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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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9
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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12
swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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14
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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15
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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16
obliterates
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| v.除去( obliterate的第三人称单数 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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17
oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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18
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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19
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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20
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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21
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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22
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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23
belching
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| n. 喷出，打嗝 动词belch的现在分词形式 | |
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24
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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25
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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26
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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27
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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28
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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29
tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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30
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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31
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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32
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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33
wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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34
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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35
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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36
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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37
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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38
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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39
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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40
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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41
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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42
porous
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| adj.可渗透的，多孔的 | |
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43
limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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44
tributaries
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| n. 支流 | |
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45
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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46
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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47
fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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48
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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49
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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50
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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51
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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52
cormorants
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| 鸬鹚，贪婪的人( cormorant的名词复数 ) | |
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53
storks
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| n.鹳( stork的名词复数 ) | |
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54
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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55
hawks
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| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
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56
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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57
vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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58
fawns
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| n.（未满一岁的）幼鹿( fawn的名词复数 )；浅黄褐色；乞怜者；奉承者v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的第三人称单数 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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59
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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60
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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61
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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62
subsides
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的第三人称单数 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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63
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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64
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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65
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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66
desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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67
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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68
crests
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| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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69
triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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70
apex
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| n.顶点，最高点 | |
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71
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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72
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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73
streaked
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|
| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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74
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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75
herd
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|
| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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76
monstrous
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|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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77
antediluvian
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| adj.史前的，陈旧的 | |
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78
herded
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| 群集，纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 )； 放牧； （使）向…移动 | |
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79
curiously
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|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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80
ominous
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|
| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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81
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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82
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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83
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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84
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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85
insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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86
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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87
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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88
suffocate
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|
| vt.使窒息，使缺氧，阻碍；vi.窒息，窒息而亡，阻碍发展 | |
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89
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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90
insidiously
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| 潜在地，隐伏地，阴险地 | |
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91
contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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92
exalt
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| v.赞扬，歌颂，晋升，提升 | |
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93
emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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94
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
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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96
serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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97
trespassed
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| （trespass的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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98
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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99
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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100
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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101
collapsing
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| 压扁[平]，毁坏，断裂 | |
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102
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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103
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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104
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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105
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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106
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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107
gulping
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的现在分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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108
otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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109
gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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110
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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111
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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112
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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113
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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114
steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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115
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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116
ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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117
hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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118
demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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119
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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120
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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121
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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122
shrines
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| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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123
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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124
deities
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| n.神，女神( deity的名词复数 )；神祗；神灵；神明 | |
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125
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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126
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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127
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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128
untoward
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| adj.不利的，不幸的，困难重重的 | |
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129
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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130
obliteration
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| n.涂去，删除；管腔闭合 | |
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131
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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132
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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133
scarcity
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| n.缺乏，不足，萧条 | |
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134
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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135
foraging
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的现在分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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136
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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137
lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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138
eeriness
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| n.怪诞，胆怯，阴森 | |
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139
sensory
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| adj.知觉的，感觉的，知觉器官的 | |
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140
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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141
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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142
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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143
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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144
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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145
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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146
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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147
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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148
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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149
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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150
rejection
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| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
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151
unfamiliarity
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152
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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153
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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154
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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155
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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156
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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