Yak Pedersen was the tamer and menagerie manager, a tall, blonde, angular man about thirty-five, of dissolute and savage7 blood himself, with the very ample kind of moustache that bald men often develop; yes, bald, intemperate8, lewd9, and an interminable smoker10 of Cuban cigarettes, which seemed constantly to threaten a conflagration11 in that moustache. Marie the Cossack hated him, but Yak loved her with a fierce deep passion. Nobody knew why she was called Marie the Cossack. She came92 from Canning Town—everybody knew that, and her proper name was Fascota, Mrs. Fascota, wife of Jimmy Fascota, who was the architect and carpenter and builder of the show. Jimmy was not much to look at, so little in fact that you couldn’t help wondering what it was Marie had seen in him when she could have had the King of Poland, as you might say, almost for the asking. But still Jimmy was the boss ganger of the show, and even that young gentleman in frock coat and silk hat who paraded the platform entrance to the arena12 and rhodomontadoed you into it, often against your will, by the seductive recital13 of the seven ghastly wonders of the world, all certainly to be seen, to be seen inside, waiting to be seen, must be seen, roll up—even he was subject to the commands of Jimmy Fascota when the time came to dismantle14 and pack up the show, although the transfer of his activities involved him temporarily in a change, a horrid15 change, of attire16 and language. Marie was not a lady, but she was not for Pedersen anyway. She swore like a factory foreman, or a young soldier, and when she got tipsy she was full of freedoms. By the power of God she was beautiful, and by the same gracious power she was virtuous17. Her husband knew it; he knew all about master Pedersen’s passion, too, and it did not even interest him. Marie did feats18 in the lion cages, whipping poor decrepit19 beasts, desiccated by captivity20, through a hoop21 or over a stick of wood and other kindergarten disportings; but there you are, people must live, and Marie lived that way. Pedersen was always wooing her. Sometimes he was gracious and kind,93 but at other times when his failure wearied him he would be cruel and sardonic22, with a suggestive tongue whose vice23 would have scourged24 her were it not that Marie was impervious25, or too deeply inured26 to mind it. She always grinned at him and fobbed him off with pleasantries, whether he was amorous27 or acrid28.
“God Almighty29!” he would groan30, “she is not good for me, this Marie. What can I do for her? She is burning me alive and the Skaggerack could not quench31 me, not all of it. The devil! What can I do with this? Some day I shall smash her across the eyes, yes, across the eyes.”
So you see the man really loved her.
When Pedersen returned from the docks the car with its captive was dragged to a vacant place in the arena, and the wooden front panel was let down from the bars. The marvellous tiger was revealed. It sprung into a crouching33 attitude as the light surprised the appalling34 beauty of its smooth fox-coloured coat, its ebony stripes, and snowy pads and belly35. The Dane, who was slightly drunk, uttered a yell and struck the bars of the cage with his whip. The tiger did not blench36, but all the malice37 and ferocity in the world seemed to congregate38 in its eyes and impress with a pride and ruthless grandeur39 the colossal40 brutality41 of its face. It did not move its body, but its tail gradually stiffened42 out behind it as stealthily as fire moves in the forest undergrowth, and the hair along the ridge43 of its back rose in fearful spikes45. There was the slightest possible distension46 of the lips, and it fixed47 its marvellous baleful gaze upon94 Pedersen. The show people were hushed into silence, and even Pedersen was startled. He showered a few howls and curses at the tiger, who never ceased to fix him with eyes that had something of contempt in them and something of a horrible presage48. Pedersen was thrusting a sharp spike44 through the bars when a figure stepped from the crowd. It was an old negro, a hunchback with a white beard, dressed in a red fez cap, long tunic49 of buff cotton, and blue trousers. He laid both his hands on the spike and shook his head deprecatingly, smiling all the while. He said nothing, but there was nothing he could say—he was dumb.
“Let him alone, Yak; let the tiger alone, Yak!” cried Barnabe Woolf. “What is this feller?”
Pedersen with some reluctance50 turned from the cage and said: “He is come with the animal.”
“So?” said Barnabe. “Vell, he can go. Ve do not vant any black feller.”
“He cannot speak—no tongue—it is gone,” Yak replied.
“No tongue! Vot, have they cut him out?”
“I should think it,” said the tamer. “There was two of them, a white keeper, but that man fell off the ship one night and they do not see him any more. This chap he feed it and look after it. No information of him, dumb you see, and a foreigner; don’t understand. He have no letters, no money, no name, nowheres to go. Dumb, you see, he has nothing, nothing but a flote. The captain said to take him away with us. Give a job to him, he is a proposition.”
95
“Vot is he got you say?”
“O ya, a vloot! Vell, ve don’t want no vloots now; ve feeds our own tigers, don’t ve, Yak?” And Mr. Woolf, oily but hearty—and well he might be so for he was beautifully rotund, hair like satin, extravagantly52 clothed, and rich with jewellery—surveyed first with a contemplative grin, and then compassionately53, the figure of the old negro, who stood unsmiling with his hands crossed humbly55 before him. Mr. Woolf was usually perspiring56, and usually being addressed by perspiring workmen, upon whom he bellowed57 orders and such anathemas58 as reduced each recipient59 to the importance of a potato, and gave him the aspect of a consumptive sheep. But to-day Mr. Woolf was affable and calm. He took his cigar from his mouth and poured a flood of rich grey air from his lips. “O ya, look after him a day, or a couple of days.” At that one of the boys began to lead the hunchback away as if he were a horse. “Come on, Pompoon,” he cried, and thenceforward the unknown negro was called by that name.
Throughout the day the tiger was the sensation of the show, and the record of its ferocity attached to the cage received thrilling confirmation60 whenever Pedersen appeared before the bars. The sublime61 concentration of hatred62 was so intense that children screamed, women shuddered63, and even men held their breath in awe64. At the end of the day the beasts were fed. Great hacks65 of bloody66 flesh were forked into the bottoms of the cages, the hungry victims pouncing67 and snarling68 in ecstasy69. But no sooner96 were they served than the front panel of each cage was swung up, and the inmate70 in the seclusion71 of his den32 slaked72 his appetite and slept. When the public had departed the lights were put out and the doors of the arena closed. Outside in the darkness only its great rounded oblong shape could be discerned, built high of painted wood, roofed with striped canvas, and adorned73 with flags. Beyond this matchbox coliseum was a row of caravans74, tents, naphtha flares76, and buckets of fire on which suppers were cooking. Groups of the show people sat or lounged about, talking, cackling with laughter, and even singing. No one observed the figure of Pompoon as he passed silently on the grass. The outcast, doubly chained to his solitariness78 by the misfortune of dumbness and strange nationality, was hungry. He had not tasted food that day. He could not understand it any more than he could understand the speech of these people. In the end caravan75, nearest the arena, he heard a woman quietly singing. He drew a shining metal flute from his breast, but stood silently until the singer ceased. Then he repeated the tune79 very accurately80 and sweetly on his flute. Marie the Cossack came to the door in her green silk tights and high black boots with gilded fringes; her black velvet81 doublet had plenty of gilded buttons upon it. She was a big, finely moulded woman, her dark and splendid features were burned healthily by the sun. In each of her ears two gold discs tinkled82 and gleamed as she moved. Pompoon opened his mouth very widely and supplicatingly; he put his hand upon his stomach and rolled his eyes so dreadfully97 that Mrs. Fascota sent her little daughter Sophy down to him with a basin of soup and potatoes. Sophy was partly undressed, in bare feet and red petticoat. She stood gnawing83 the bone of a chicken, and grinning at the black man as he swallowed and dribbled84 as best he could without a spoon. She cried out: “Here, he’s going to eat the bloody basin and all, mum!” Her mother cheerfully ordered her to “give him those fraggiments, then!” The child did so, pausing now and again to laugh at the satisfied roll of the old man’s eyes. Later on Jimmy Fascota found him a couple of sacks, and Pompoon slept upon them beneath their caravan. The last thing the old man saw was Pedersen, carrying a naphtha flare77, unlocking a small door leading into the arena, and closing it with a slam after he had entered. Soon the light went out.
II
After a week the show shifted and Pompoon accompanied it. Mrs. Kavanagh, who looked after the birds, was, a little fortunately for him, kicked in the stomach by a mule85 and had to be left at an infirmary. Pompoon, who seemed to understand birds, took charge of the parakeets, love birds, and other highly coloured fowl86, including the quetzal with green mossy head, pink breast, and flowing tails, and the primrose-breasted toucans87 with bills like a butcher’s cleaver88.
The show was always moving on and moving on. Putting it up and taking it down was a more entertaining affair than the exhibition itself. With98 Jimmy Fascota in charge, and the young man of the frock coat in an ecstasy of labour, half-clothed husky men swarmed89 up the rigged frameworks, dismantling90 poles, planks91, floors, ropes, roofs, staging, tearing at bolts and bars, walking at dizzying altitudes on narrow boards, swearing at their mates, staggering under vast burdens, sweating till they looked like seals, packing and disposing incredibly of it all, furling the flags, rolling up the filthy92 awnings93, then Right O! for a market town twenty miles away.
In the autumn the show would be due at a great gala town in the north, the supreme94 opportunity of the year, and by that time Mr. Woolf expected to have a startling headline about a new tiger act and the intrepid95 tamer. But somehow Pedersen could make no progress at all with this. Week after week went by, and the longer he left that initial entry into the cage of the tiger, notwithstanding the comforting support of firearms and hot irons, the more remote appeared the possibility of its capitulation. The tiger’s hatred did not manifest itself in roars and gnashing of teeth, but by its rigid96 implacable pose and a slight flexion of its protruded97 claws. It seemed as if endowed with an imagination of blood-lust, Pedersen being the deepest conceivable excitation of this. Week after week went by and the show people became aware that Pedersen, their Pedersen, the unrivalled, the dauntless tamer, had met his match. They were proud of the beast. Some said it was Yak’s bald crown that the tiger disliked, but Marie swore it was his moustache, a really remarkable99 piece of hirsute98 furniture, that he would not have parted with for a pound of gold—so he said. But whatever it was—crown, moustache, or the whole conglomerate99 Pedersen—the tiger remarkably100 loathed101 it and displayed his loathing102, while the unfortunate tamer had no more success with it than he had ever had with Marie the Cossack, though there was at least a good humour in her treatment of him which was horribly absent from the attitude of the beast. For a long time Pedersen blamed the hunchback for it all. He tried to elicit103 from him by gesticulations in front of the cage the secret of the creature’s enmity, but the barriers to their intercourse104 were too great to be overcome, and to all Pedersen’s illustrative frenzies105 Pompoon would only shake his sad head and roll his great eyes until the Dane would cuff106 him away with a curse of disgust and turn to find the eyes of the tiger, the dusky, smooth-skinned tiger with bitter bars of ebony, fixed upon him with tenfold malignity107. How he longed in his raging impotence to transfix the thing with a sharp spear through the cage’s gilded bars, or to bore a hole into its vitals with a red-hot iron! All the traditional treatment in such cases, combined first with starvation and then with rich feeding, proved unavailing. Pedersen always had the front flap of the cage left down at night so that he might, as he thought, establish some kind of working arrangement between them by the force of propinquity. He tried to sleep on a bench just outside the cage, but the horror of the beast so penetrated108 him that he had to turn his back upon it. Even then the intense enmity pierced the back of his100 brain and forced him to seek a bench elsewhere out of range of the tiger’s vision.
Meanwhile, the derision of Marie was not concealed—it was even blatant—and to the old contest of love between herself and the Dane was now added a new contest of personal courage, for it had come to be assumed, in some undeclarable fashion, that if Yak Pedersen could not tame that tiger, then Marie the Cossack would. As this situation crystallized daily the passion of Pedersen changed to jealousy109 and hatred. He began to regard the smiling Marie in much the same way as the tiger regarded him.
But in a short while this mood was displaced by one of anxiety; he became even abject111. Then, strangely enough, Marie’s feelings underwent some modification112. She was proud of the chance to subdue113 and defeat him, but it might be at a great price—too great a price for her. Addressing herself in turn to the dim understanding of Pompoon she had come to perceive that he believed the tiger to be not merely quite untamable, but full of mysterious dangers. She could not triumph over the Dane unless she ran the risk he feared to run. The risk was colossal then, and with her realization115 of this some pity for Yak began to exercise itself in her; after all, were they not in the same boat? But the more she sympathized the more she jeered116. The thing had to be done somehow.
Meanwhile Barnabe Woolf wants that headline for the big autumn show, and a failure will mean a101 nasty interview with that gentleman. It may end by Barnabe kicking Yak Pedersen out of his wild beast show. Not that Mr. Woolf is so gross as to suggest that. He senses the difficulty, although his manager in his pride will not confess to any. Mr. Woolf declares that his tiger is a new tiger; Yak must watch out for him, be careful. He talks as if it were just a question of giving the cage a coat of whitewash117. He never hints at contingencies118; but still, there is his new untamed tiger, and there is Mr. Yak Pedersen, his wild beast tamer—at present.
III
One day the menagerie did not open. It had finished an engagement, and Jimmy Fascota had gone off to another town to arrange the new pitch. The show folk made holiday about the camp, or flocked into the town for marketing119 or carousals. Mrs. Fascota was alone in her caravan, clothed in her jauntiest120 attire. She was preparing to go into the town when Pedersen suddenly came silently in and sat down.
“Marie,” he said, after a few moments, “I give up that tiger. To me he has given a spell. It is like a mesmerize121.” He dropped his hands upon his knees in complete humiliation122. Marie did not speak, so he asked: “What you think?”
She shrugged123 her shoulders, and put her brown arms akimbo. She was a grand figure so, in a cloak of black satin and a huge hat trimmed with crimson124 feathers.
“If you can’t trust him,” she said,102 “who can?”
“It is myself I am not to trust. Shameful125! But that tiger will do me, yes, so I will not conquer him. It’s bad, very, very bad, is it not so? Shameful, but I will not do it!” he declared excitedly.
“What’s Barnabe say?”
“I do not care, Mr. Woolf can think what he can think! Damn Woolf! But for what I do think of my own self.... Ah!” He paused for a moment, dejected beyond speech. “Yes, miserable126 it is, in my own heart very shameful, Marie. And what you think of me, yes, that too!”
There was a note in his voice that almost confounded her—why, the man was going to cry! In a moment she was all melting compassion54 and bravado127.
“You leave the devil to me, Yak. What’s come over you, man? God love us, I’ll tiger him!”
But the Dane had gone as far as he could go. He could admit his defeat, but he could not welcome her all too ready amplification128 of it.
“Na, na, you are good for him, Marie, but you beware. He is not a tiger; he is beyond everything, foul129—he has got a foul heart and a thousand demons130 in it. I would not bear to see you touch him; no, no, I would not bear it!”
“Wait till I come back this afternoon—you wait!” cried Marie, lifting her clenched131 fist. “So help me, I’ll tiger him, you’ll see!”
Pedersen suddenly awoke to her amazing attraction. He seized her in his arms. “Na, na, Marie! God above! I will not have it.”
“Aw, shut up!” she commanded, impatiently, and103 pushing him from her she sprang down the steps and proceeded to the town alone.
She did not return in the afternoon; she did not return in the evening; she was not there when the camp closed up for the night. Sophy, alone, was quite unconcerned. Pompoon sat outside the caravan, while the flame of the last lamp was perishing weakly above his head. He now wore a coat of shag-coloured velvet. He was old and looked very wise, often shaking his head, not wearily, but as if in doubt. The flute lay glittering upon his knees and he was wiping his lips with a green silk handkerchief when barefoot Sophy in her red petticoat crept behind him, unhooked the lamp, and left him in darkness. Then he departed to an old tent the Fascotas had found for him.
When the mother returned the camp was asleep in its darkness and she was very drunk. Yak Pedersen had got her. He carried her into the arena, and bolted and barred the door.
IV
Marie Fascota awoke next morning in broad daylight; through chinks and rents in the canvas roof of the arena the brightness was beautiful to behold132. She could hear a few early risers bawling133 outside, while all around her the caged beasts and birds were squeaking134, whistling, growling135, and snarling. She was lying beside the Dane on a great bundle of straw. He was already awake when she became aware of him, watching her with amused eyes.
“Yak Pedersen! Was I drunk?” Marie asked104 dazedly136 in low husky tones, sitting up. “What’s this, Yak Pedersen? Was I drunk? Have I been here all night?”
He lay with his hands behind his head, smiling in the dissolute ugliness of his abrupt137 yellow skull138 so incongruously bald, his moustache so profuse139, his nostrils140 and ears teeming141 with hairs.
“Can’t you speak?” cried the wretched woman. “What game do you call this? Where’s my Sophy, and my Jimmy—is he back?”
Again he did not answer; he stretched out a hand to caress142 her. Unguarded as he was, Marie smashed down both her fists full upon his face. He lunged back blindly at her and they both struggled to their feet, his fingers clawing in her thick strands143 of hair as she struck at him in frenzy144. Down rolled the mass and he seized it; it was her weakness, and she screamed. Marie was a rare woman—a match for most men—but the capture of her hair gave her utterly145 into his powerful hands. Uttering a torrent146 of filthy oaths, Pedersen pulled the yelling woman backwards147 to him and grasping her neck with both hands gave a murderous wrench148 and flung her to the ground. As she fell Marie’s hand clutched a small cage of fortune-telling birds. She hurled149 this at the man, but it missed him; the cage burst against a pillar and the birds scattered150 in the air.
“Marie! Marie!” shouted Yak, “listen! listen!”
Remorsefully151 he flung himself before the raging woman who swept at him with an axe152, her hair streaming, her eyes blazing with the fire of a thousand angers.
105
“Drunk, was I!” she screamed at him. “That’s how ye got me, Yak Pedersen? Drunk, was I!”
He warded153 the blow with his arm, but the shock and pain of it was so great that his own rage burst out again, and leaping at the woman he struck her a horrible blow across the eyes. She sunk to her knees and huddled154 there without a sound, holding her hands to her bleeding face, her loose hair covering it like a net. At the pitiful sight the Dane’s grief conquered him again, and bending over her imploringly155 he said: “Marie, my love, Marie! Listen! It is not true! Swear me to God, good woman, it is not true, it is not possible! Swear me to God!” he raged distractedly. “Swear me to God!” Suddenly he stopped and gasped156. They were in front of the tiger’s cage, and Pedersen was as if transfixed by that fearful gaze. The beast stood with hatred concentrated in every bristling157 hair upon its hide, and in its eyes a malignity that was almost incandescent158. Still as a stone, Marie observed this, and began to creep away from the Dane, stealthily, stealthily. On a sudden, with incredible agility159, she sprang up the steps of the tiger’s cage, tore the pin from the catch, flung open the door, and, yelling in madness, leapt in. As she did so, the cage emptied. In one moment she saw Pedersen grovelling160 on his knees, stupid, and the next....
All the hidden beasts, stirred by instinctive161 knowledge of the tragedy, roared and raged. Marie’s eyes and mind were opened to its horror. She plugged her fingers into her ears; screamed; but her voice was a mere114 wafer of sound in that106 pandemonium162. She heard vast crashes of someone smashing in the small door of the arena, and then swooned upon the floor of the cage.
The bolts were torn from their sockets163 at last, the slip door swung back, and in the opening appeared Pompoon, alone, old Pompoon, with a flaming lamp and an iron spear. As he stepped forward into the gloom he saw the tiger, dragging something in its mouth, leap back into its cage.
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收听单词发音
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1
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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yak
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| n.牦牛 | |
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waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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intemperate
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| adj.无节制的，放纵的 | |
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lewd
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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smoker
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| n.吸烟者，吸烟车厢，吸烟室 | |
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conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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dismantle
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| vt.拆开，拆卸；废除，取消 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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scourged
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| 鞭打( scourge的过去式和过去分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
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impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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inured
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| adj.坚强的，习惯的 | |
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amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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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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blench
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| v.退缩，畏缩 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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congregate
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| v.(使)集合，聚集 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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44
spike
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| n.长钉，钉鞋；v.以大钉钉牢，使...失效 | |
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45
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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46
distension
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| n.扩张，膨胀(distention) | |
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47
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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48
presage
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| n.预感，不祥感；v.预示 | |
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49
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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50
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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51
flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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52
extravagantly
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| adv.挥霍无度地 | |
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53
compassionately
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| adv.表示怜悯地，有同情心地 | |
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54
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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55
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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56
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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57
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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58
anathemas
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| n.（天主教的）革出教门( anathema的名词复数 )；诅咒；令人极其讨厌的事；被基督教诅咒的人或事 | |
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59
recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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60
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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61
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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62
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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63
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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64
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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65
hacks
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| 黑客 | |
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66
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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67
pouncing
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的现在分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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68
snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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69
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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70
inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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71
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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72
slaked
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| v.满足( slake的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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74
caravans
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| （可供居住的）拖车（通常由机动车拖行）( caravan的名词复数 )； 篷车； （穿过沙漠地带的）旅行队（如商队） | |
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75
caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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76
flares
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| n.喇叭裤v.（使）闪耀( flare的第三人称单数 )；（使）（船舷）外倾；（使）鼻孔张大；（使）（衣裙、酒杯等）呈喇叭形展开 | |
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77
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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78
solitariness
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| n.隐居；单独 | |
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79
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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80
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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81
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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82
tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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83
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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84
dribbled
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| v.流口水( dribble的过去式和过去分词 )；（使液体）滴下或作细流；运球，带球 | |
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85
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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86
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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87
toucans
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| n.巨嘴鸟，犀鸟( toucan的名词复数 ) | |
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88
cleaver
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| n.切肉刀 | |
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89
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 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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90
dismantling
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| （枪支）分解 | |
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91
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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92
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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93
awnings
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| 篷帐布 | |
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94
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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95
intrepid
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| adj.无畏的，刚毅的 | |
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96
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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97
protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
hirsute
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| adj.多毛的 | |
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99
conglomerate
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| n.综合商社，多元化集团公司 | |
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100
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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101
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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102
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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103
elicit
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| v.引出,抽出,引起 | |
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104
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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105
frenzies
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| 狂乱( frenzy的名词复数 )； 极度的激动 | |
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106
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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107
malignity
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| n.极度的恶意，恶毒；（病的）恶性 | |
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108
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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109
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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110
scorch
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| v.烧焦，烤焦；高速疾驶；n.烧焦处，焦痕 | |
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111
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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112
modification
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| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
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113
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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114
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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115
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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116
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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117
whitewash
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| v.粉刷，掩饰；n.石灰水，粉刷，掩饰 | |
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118
contingencies
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| n.偶然发生的事故，意外事故( contingency的名词复数 )；以备万一 | |
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119
marketing
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| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
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120
jauntiest
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| adj.心满意足的样子，洋洋得意的( jaunty的最高级 ) | |
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121
mesmerize
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| vt.施催眠术；使入迷，迷住 | |
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122
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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123
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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124
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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125
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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126
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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127
bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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128
amplification
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| n.扩大，发挥 | |
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129
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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130
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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131
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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133
bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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134
squeaking
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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135
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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136
dazedly
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| 头昏眼花地，眼花缭乱地，茫然地 | |
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137
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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138
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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139
profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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140
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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141
teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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142
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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143
strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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144
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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145
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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146
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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147
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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148
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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149
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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150
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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151
remorsefully
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| adv.极为懊悔地 | |
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152
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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153
warded
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| 有锁孔的，有钥匙榫槽的 | |
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154
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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155
imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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156
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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157
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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158
incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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159
agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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160
grovelling
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| adj.卑下的，奴颜婢膝的v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的现在分词 )；趴 | |
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161
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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162
pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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163
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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