Westy and his comrades were greatly relieved to learn that no word of their non-appearance had been wired to Bridgeboro. It is true that they had only just escaped with their little adventure and saved themselves from prosaic5 complications, for the gentleman who was to have received them at Gardiner had been in communication with Livingston and had engineered the dispatch of an auto6 over the road to pick them up. But fate was kind to them and somehow they had not encountered the rescue car, which (to make matters worse) was a Ford7 sedan.
So it befell that the three award boys, in despite of all modern claptrap, crossed the boundary of Yellowstone National Park as some scout8 or trapper of old might have crossed it, having safely eluded9 two western desperadoes and a Ford sedan. But it was a narrow escape.
“Could we see Shining Sun? Is he here?” Westy asked almost in a reverend whisper.
“All is over between Stove Polish and myself,” said Mr. Wilde. “Never mention his name again. That canny10, little red-face wanted five hundred dollars down before leaving this hotel, and his manager, Pink Vulture or Black Hawk11 or whatever he calls himself, insists on the kid being featured in all the exploitation stuff. N-o-t-h-i-n-g doing, I told him! That ain’t the way we put over Educational Films. Lo, the poor Indian—bunk. Why, Stove Polish is starting his own outfit12 in Hollywood next year. What d’yer know about that? Don’t talk to me about that Cheyenne! It’s good he wasn’t around when the Yankees bought Cape4 Cod13 for a couple of spark plugs or something or other.”
“As a pathfinder that kid is O.K.,” said Mr. Wilde. “He can track a dollar to its silent lair15. N-o-t-h-i-n-g doing, I told him! If you want to meet him, there he is in the next room or somewheres or other. Keep your hands on your watches.”
Dumbfounded at this hearty16 tirade17, the three boys, followed by an admiring throng18 of other boys, explored the public places of the big hotel. They penetrated20 the dining room and glanced about curiously21. They peered into the remotest fastnesses opening from corridors and stole into all the carpeted nooks and crannies where they thought a Cheyenne Indian might lurk22. Mr. Wilde had declined to hit the trail with them.
“I’ll show him to you,” said an accommodating youngster who clung to Westy; “I know him; I’ll find him for you. Mr. Creston was bawling23 him out; oh, boy, you ought to have heard him.”
So it was that Westy’s cup of joy was full and he found himself hunting Indians like the gallant24 Custer or like Buffalo25 Billy. And, at last, they brought poor Westy’s hero to bay in one of the parlors26. He sat in a rocker, talking with his manager, Mr. Hawk, Black Hawk of the Rockies—and Hollywood.
Poor Westy, he could only gaze speechless. More atrocious than all the atrocities28 committed by the movies was Shining Sun, the Indian boy. He was ravishing in his sartorial29 splendor30, wearing a red-ribboned straw hat and spats31! And he carried a cane32—young boy though he was. Oh, shades of Pontiac and Sitting Bull! He carried a cane! Wesley Barryized, Jackie Cooganized, movieized, he sat there talking to Mr. Hawk about the disagreement they had had with Educational Films. And if old Massasoit did not turn in his grave it must have been because he was too shocked or grieved to stir!
Westy gazed at this sophisticated youngster in chilled disillusionment. Shining Sun had indeed been shining while he, the parlor27 woodsman, the back-yard scout, had been getting away from the most notorious bandit west of the Mississippi. If Westy had beheld33 Bloodhound Pete in a dress suit and stove-pipe hat he could hardly have received a greater shock. That the Indian boy had real skill and woods lore19 did not save him in the eyes of this sturdy little hero of the Silver Fox Patrol, who had found money the only false note in his memorable34 adventure.
“Come on away,” Warde whispered, “he’s talking business. Shh! Don’t you know he’s the Cheyenne Valentino?”
“He ought to be stabbed to the heart with my safety-pin,” said Ed. “If I ever meet him in a lonely spot on Broadway some dark night, I’ll lasso him with worsted from my sweater. Come on, let’s get away from here. I’m sorry for you, West, you old tramp; I’m for the Boy Scouts35 of America. I’d rather live on fish and wear honest rags.”
“You tell ’em,” said Warde, earnestly.
He put his arm over his patrol mate’s shoulder as if to claim a kinship of which even Ed could not boast. But it made no difference to Ed, for a scout is a brother to every other scout throughout the whole length and breadth of the land. Westy seemed conscious of this as he rapped Ed on the shoulder while the three strolled away together. “Well, are you cured?” Warde asked.
“Yes, I’m cured,” said Westy.
“I admit you’re one,” Westy said.
“Thanks for those kind words.”
“You always smile and look pleasant and that’s the main thing,” said Westy.
“Wrong the first time,” said Ed. “The main thing is not to accept anything for a service; law five, also law nine; handbook page thirty-four.”
“You said it,” enthused Warde. “The trouble with——”
“The trouble with him,” said Warde, “he’s been commercialized.”
“Repeat that word,” said Ed.
“Commercialized,” said Warde.
“Go to the head of the class and take a slap on the wrist,” said Ed.
“It means kind of spoiled by money and being famous and all that,” said Warde.
“There are people trying to commercialize boy scouts, too,” said Warde.
“Not if we see ’em first,” said Westy.
“If we get killed, we’ll get killed for love,” said Ed. “We won’t take any money for it—not even a tip.”
“I’m with you,” said Ed. “Or wear spats.”
“Right,” said Warde.
“I’ve got to get some clothes somewhere,” said Westy.
“I think there’s a clothing store at the bottom of the canyon,” Warde observed.
“First I’d like to go to the Devil’s Kitchen and get something to eat,” said Ed.
“Not unless I can eat it,” said Ed. “Just at present I don’t want to see anything I can’t eat—except fish. If anybody mentions fish to me, I’ll stab him with my safety-pin. I wouldn’t even listen to a fish story.”
“I bet Shining Sun hit him with his cane,” said Ed. “If he did, I hope Mr. Wilde just puffed42 cigar smoke in his face; it would serve him right.”
“Do you smell roast beef?” said Warde.
“Boy, that smells good,” said Westy.
“I think we’re on the right trail,” said Ed.
点击收听单词发音
1 swelling | |
n.肿胀 | |
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2 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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3 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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4 cape | |
n.海角,岬;披肩,短披风 | |
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5 prosaic | |
adj.单调的,无趣的 | |
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6 auto | |
n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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7 Ford | |
n.浅滩,水浅可涉处;v.涉水,涉过 | |
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8 scout | |
n.童子军,侦察员;v.侦察,搜索 | |
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9 eluded | |
v.(尤指机敏地)避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 );逃避;躲避;使达不到 | |
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10 canny | |
adj.谨慎的,节俭的 | |
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11 hawk | |
n.鹰,骗子;鹰派成员 | |
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12 outfit | |
n.(为特殊用途的)全套装备,全套服装 | |
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13 cod | |
n.鳕鱼;v.愚弄;哄骗 | |
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14 gasped | |
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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15 lair | |
n.野兽的巢穴;躲藏处 | |
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16 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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17 tirade | |
n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
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18 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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19 lore | |
n.传说;学问,经验,知识 | |
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20 penetrated | |
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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21 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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22 lurk | |
n.潜伏,潜行;v.潜藏,潜伏,埋伏 | |
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23 bawling | |
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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24 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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25 buffalo | |
n.(北美)野牛;(亚洲)水牛 | |
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26 parlors | |
客厅( parlor的名词复数 ); 起居室; (旅馆中的)休息室; (通常用来构成合成词)店 | |
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27 parlor | |
n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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28 atrocities | |
n.邪恶,暴行( atrocity的名词复数 );滔天大罪 | |
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29 sartorial | |
adj.裁缝的 | |
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30 splendor | |
n.光彩;壮丽,华丽;显赫,辉煌 | |
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31 spats | |
n.口角( spat的名词复数 );小争吵;鞋罩;鞋套v.spit的过去式和过去分词( spat的第三人称单数 );口角;小争吵;鞋罩 | |
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32 cane | |
n.手杖,细长的茎,藤条;v.以杖击,以藤编制的 | |
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33 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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34 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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35 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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36 queried | |
v.质疑,对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 );询问 | |
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37 tarnished | |
(通常指金属)(使)失去光泽,(使)变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 ); 玷污,败坏 | |
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38 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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39 vow | |
n.誓(言),誓约;v.起誓,立誓 | |
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40 petrified | |
adj.惊呆的;目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆,使惊呆;变僵硬;使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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41 scrap | |
n.碎片;废料;v.废弃,报废 | |
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42 puffed | |
adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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