He roused himself out of his silent fear and suspense3 and realized that if he were going to do anything he must act quickly. He was between two frightful4 perils5. If he were to act, do something (he knew not exactly what), it must be before his friends called, yet not till the men below had fallen asleep. Haste meant disaster. Delay meant disaster. When should he act? And what should he do? If he had only a little time—a little time to think. What would the Indian boy do?
He listened fearfully, his heart in his throat, but there was no sound. He was thankful that Ed Carlyle was not such a good scout6—no, he didn’t mean exactly that. He was glad that Ed was not exactly what you would call a real—no, he didn’t mean that either. He was glad that Ed had not been scout enough—had not been able to catch any fish. There are times when not being such a marvelous super-scout is a very good thing.
Silence. Darkness. And the minutes passed by. He was jeopardizing7 his life and his companions’ lives, and he knew it. If he waited till they shouted all three of them would be—— He could not bear to think of it. Would be killed! Shot down! He, Westy Martin, and his two pals8.
What would Shining Sun do?
Well, he, Westy Martin, would act at once. He would take a chance, be brave, die game. He would, if need be, be killed in the Rockies, like so many heroes before him. He would not be a parlor9 scout. He had dreamed of being in peril in the Rockies. Well, he would not falter10 now. He could not be a Shining Sun, but at least he could be worthy11 of himself. He would not be wanting in courage, and he would use such resource as he had.
He could not afford to wait for a shout from the cleft12. He must descend13 and trust to the men being asleep. He wished that Bloodhound Pete had not made that remark about sleeping with one eye open. He wished that that grim desperado had not unconsciously informed him that he could track anything but an airplane. Then it occurred to him that he might disclose his presence to these men, promise not to tell of their hiding place, and throw himself on their mercy. Perhaps they—the tall one at least—would understand that a scout’s honor——
Honor! A scout’s honor. What is that? Shining Sun was a scout, a real scout. What would he do? He would escape!
Westy listened but heard no sound from below. He hoped they were in the little cave, but he doubted that; it was too small and stuffy14. A place to shoot from and hold pursuers at bay, that was all it was.
Silently, with an arm around an upright branch, he raised one foot and unlaced a shoe, pausing once or twice to listen.
No sound from below or from afar. Only the myriad15 voices of the night in the Rocky Mountains, an owl16 hooting17 in the distance, the sound of branches crackling in the freshening breeze, the complaining call of some unknown creature. . . .
He hung the shoe on a limb, releasing his hold on it easily, then listened. No sound. Then he unlaced the other shoe and hung it on the branch. Strange place for a Bridgeboro, New Jersey18, boy to hang his shoes. But Shining Sun wore no shoes, perish the thought! and neither would Westy. He removed his scout jacket with some difficulty and hung it on a limb, then he removed the contents of its pockets.
Westy Martin, scout of the first class, First Bridgeboro Troop, B. S. A., Bridgeboro, New Jersey, had won eleven merit badges. Nine of these were sewed on the sleeve of the khaki jacket in which he had traveled. This had been his preference, since he was a modest boy, and was disinclined to have them constantly displayed on the sleeve of his scout shirt which he usually wore uncovered. But two of the medals had been sewed on the sleeve of his shirt at some time when the jacket was not handy. These were the pathfinder’s badge and the stalker’s badge. So it happened that he carried these two treasured badges with him, when he left his jacket hanging in the tree and started to descend upon his hazardous19 adventure.
He had received these two honors with a thrill of pride. But throughout this memorable20 day they had seemed to him like silly gewgaws, claptrap of the Boy Scouts21, signifying nothing. They were obscured by the haunting spirit of Shining Sun.
For another moment he listened, his nerves tense, his heart thumping22. Then he began ever so cautiously to let himself down through the darkness. A long, plaintive23 moan was faintly audible far in the mountain fastnesses. . . .
点击收听单词发音
1 peril | |
n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
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2 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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3 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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4 frightful | |
adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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5 perils | |
极大危险( peril的名词复数 ); 危险的事(或环境) | |
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6 scout | |
n.童子军,侦察员;v.侦察,搜索 | |
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7 jeopardizing | |
危及,损害( jeopardize的现在分词 ) | |
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8 pals | |
n.朋友( pal的名词复数 );老兄;小子;(对男子的不友好的称呼)家伙 | |
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9 parlor | |
n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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10 falter | |
vi.(嗓音)颤抖,结巴地说;犹豫;蹒跚 | |
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11 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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12 cleft | |
n.裂缝;adj.裂开的 | |
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13 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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14 stuffy | |
adj.不透气的,闷热的 | |
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15 myriad | |
adj.无数的;n.无数,极大数量 | |
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16 owl | |
n.猫头鹰,枭 | |
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17 hooting | |
(使)作汽笛声响,作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 ); 倒好儿; 倒彩 | |
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18 jersey | |
n.运动衫 | |
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19 hazardous | |
adj.(有)危险的,冒险的;碰运气的 | |
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20 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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21 scouts | |
侦察员[机,舰]( scout的名词复数 ); 童子军; 搜索; 童子军成员 | |
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22 thumping | |
adj.重大的,巨大的;重击的;尺码大的;极好的adv.极端地;非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词);狠打;怦怦地跳;全力支持 | |
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23 plaintive | |
adj.可怜的,伤心的 | |
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