His mother was afraid the constant travel from place to place, in Europe, might be too much for him. So she asked leave of the Mistress and the Master,—one of whom was her distant relative—for the convalescent to stay at the Place during his parents’ absence.
That was how it all started.
The youngster was eleven years old; lank3 and gangling4, and blest with a fretful voice and with far less discipline and manners than a three-month collie pup. His name was Cyril. Briefly5, he was a pest,—an unspeakable pest.
For the first day or two at the Place, the newness of 96his surroundings kept Cyril more or less in bounds. Then, as homesickness and novelty alike wore off, his adventurous6 soul expanded.
He was very much at home;—far more so than were his hosts, and infinitely7 more pleased than they with the situation general. He had an infinite genius for getting into trouble. Not in the delightfully8 normal fashion of the average growing boy; but in furtively9 crafty10 ways that did not belong to healthy childhood.
Day by day, Cyril impressed his odd personality more and more on everything around him. The atmosphere of sweet peace which had brooded, like a blessing11, over the whole Place, was dispersed12.
The cook,—a marvel13 of culinary skill and of long service,—gave tearful warning, and departed. This when she found the insides of all her cooking utensils14 neatly15 soaped; and the sheaf of home-letters in her work-box replaced by cigar-coupons.
One of the workmen threw over his job with noisy blasphemy16; when his room above the stables was invaded by stealth and a comic-paper picture of a goat’s head substituted for his dead mother’s photograph in the well-polished little bronze frame on his bureau.
And so on, all along the line.
The worst and most continuous sufferer from Cyril’s loathed17 presence on the Place was the massive collie, Lad.
The child learned, on the first day of his visit, that it would be well-nigh as safe to play with a handful of dynamite18 as with Lad’s gold-and-white mate, Lady. Lady did not care for liberties from any one. And she took no pains to mask her snappish first-sight aversion to the lanky19 Cyril. Her fiery20 little son, Wolf, was scarce less formidable 97than she, when it came to being teased by an outsider. But gallant21 old Lad was safe game.
He was safe game for Cyril, because Lad’s mighty22 heart and soul were miles above the possibility of resenting anything from so pitifully weak and defenceless a creature as this child. He seemed to realise, at a glance, that Cyril was an invalid23 and helpless and at a physical disadvantage. And, as ever toward the feeble, his big nature went out in friendly protection to this gangling wisp of impishness.
Which was all the good it did him.
In fact, it laid the huge collie open to an endless succession of torment25. For the dog’s size and patience seemed to awaken26 every atom of bullying27 cruelty in the small visitor’s nature.
Cyril, from the hour of his arrival, found acute bliss29 in making Lad’s life a horror. His initial step was to respond effusively30 to the collie’s welcoming advances; so long as the Mistress and the Master chanced to be in the room. As they passed out, the Mistress chanced to look back.
She saw Cyril pull a bit of cake from his pocket and, with his left hand, proffer31 it to Lad. The tawny32 dog stepped courteously33 forward to accept the gift. As his teeth were about to close daintily on the cake, Cyril whipped it back out of reach; and with his other hand rapped Lad smartly across the nose.
Had any grown man ventured a humiliating and painful trick of that sort on Lad, the collie would have been at the tormentor34’s throat, on the instant. But it was not in the great dog’s nature to attack a child. Shrinking back, in amaze, his abnormally sensitive feelings jarred, the collie retreated majestically35 to his beloved “cave” under the music-room piano.
To the Mistress’s remonstrance36, Cyril denied most 98earnestly that he had done the thing. Nor was his vehemently37 tearful denial shaken by her assertion that she had seen it all.
Lad soon forgave the affront38. And he forgave a dozen other and worse maltreatments which followed. But, at last, the dog took to shunning39 the neighbourhood of the pest. That availed him nothing; except to make Cyril seek him out in whatsoever40 refuge the dog had chosen.
Lad, trotting41 hungrily to his dinner dish, would find his food thick-strewn with cayenne pepper or else soaked in reeking42 gasoline.
Lad, seeking peace and solitude43 in his piano cave, would discover his rug, there, cleverly scattered44 with carpet tacks45, points upward.
Lad, starting up from a snooze at the Mistress’s call, would be deftly46 tripped as he started to bound down the veranda47 steps, and would risk bruises48 and fractures by an ugly fall to the driveway below.
Wherever Lad went, whatever Lad did, there was a cruel trick awaiting him. And, in time, the dog’s dark eyes took on an expression of puzzled unhappiness that went straight to the hearts of the two humans who loved him.
All his life, Lad had been a privileged character on the Place. Never had he known nor needed whip or chain. Never had he,—or any of the Place’s other dogs,—been wantonly teased by any human. He had known, and had given, only love and square treatment and stanch49 friendliness50. He had ruled as benevolent51 monarch52 of the Place’s Little People; had given leal service to his two deities53, the Mistress and the Master; and had stood courteously aloof54 from the rest of mankind. And he had been very, very happy.
Now, in a breath, all this was changed. Ever at his 99heels, ever waiting to find some new way to pester55 him, was a human too small and too weak to attack;—a human who was forever setting the collie’s highstrung nerves on edge or else actively56 hurting him. Lad could not understand it. And as the child gained in health and strength, Lad’s lot grew increasingly miserable57.
The Mistress and the Master were keenly aware of conditions. And they did their best,—a useless best,—to mitigate58 them for the dog. They laboured over Cyril, to make him leave Lad alone. They pointed59 out to him the mean cowardice60 of his course of torture. They even threatened to send him to nearer relatives until his parents’ return. All in vain. Faced with the most undeniable proofs, the child invariably would lie. He denied that he had ever ill-used Lad in any way; and would weep, in righteous indignation, at the charges. What was to be done?
“I thought it would brighten up the house so, to have a child in it again!” sighed the Mistress as she and her husband discussed the matter, uselessly, for the fiftieth time, after one of these scenes. “I looked forward so much to his coming here! But he’s—oh, he isn’t like any child I ever heard of before!”
“If I could devote five busy minutes a day to him,” grunted61 the Master, “with an axe-handle or perhaps a balestick—”
“You wouldn’t do it!” denied his wife. “You wouldn’t harm him; any more than Lad does. That’s the trouble. If Cyril belonged to us, we could punish him. Not with a—a balestick, of course. But he needs a good wholesome62 spanking63, more than any one else I can think of. That or some other kind of punishment that would make an impression on him. But what can we do? He isn’t ours—”
100“Thank God!” interpolated the Master, piously64.
“And we can’t punish other people’s children,” she finished. “I don’t know what we can do. I wouldn’t mind half so much about the other sneaky things he does; if it wasn’t for the way he treats Laddie. I—”
“Suppose we send Lad to the boarding kennels65, at Ridgewood, till the brat66 is gone?” suggested the Master. “I hate to do it. And the good old chap will be blue with homesickness there. But at least he’ll get kind treatment. When he comes over to me and looks up into my eyes in that terribly appealing way, after Cyril has done some rotten thing to him,—well, I feel like a cur, not to be able to justify68 his faith that I can make things all right for him. Yes, I think I’ll send him to the boarding kennels. And, if it weren’t for leaving you alone to face things here, I’d be tempted69 to hire a stall at the kennels for myself, till the pest is gone.”
The next day, came a ray of light in the bothered gloom. And the question of the boarding kennels was dropped. The Mistress received a letter from Cyril’s mother. The European trip had been cut short, for business reasons; and the two travellers expected to land in New York on the following Friday.
“Who dares say Friday is an unlucky day?” chortled the Master in glee, as his wife reached this stage of the letter.
“And,” the Mistress read on, “we will come out to the Place, on the noon train; and take darling Cyril away with us. I wish we could stay longer with you; but Henry must be in Chicago on Saturday night. So we must catch a late afternoon train back to town, and take the night train West. Now, I—”
“Most letters are a bore,” interpolated the Master. “Or else they’re a bother. But this one is a pure rapture70. 101Read it more slowly, won’t you, dear? I want to wallow in every blessèd word of hope it contains. Go ahead. I’m sorry I interrupted. Read on. You’ll never have such another enthusiastic audience.”
“And now,” the Mistress continued her reading, “I am going to ask both of you not to say a single word to precious Cyril about our coming home so soon. We want to surprise him. Oh, to think what his lovely face will be like, when he sees us walking in!”
“And to think what my lovely face will be like, when I see him walking out!” exulted71 the Master. “Laddie, come over here. We’ve got the gorgeousest news ever! Come over and be glad!”
Lad, at the summons, came trotting out of his cave, and across the room. Like every good dog who has been much talked to, he was as adept72 as any dead-beat in reading the varying shades of the human voice. The voices and faces alike of his two adored deities told him something wonderful had happened. And, as ever, he rejoiced in their gladness. Lifting his magnificent head, he broke into a salvo of trumpeting73 barks;—the oddly triumphant74 form of racket he reserved for great moments.
“What’s Laddie doing?” asked Cyril, from the threshold. “He sounds as if he was going mad or something.”
“He’s happy,” answered the Mistress.
“Why’s he happy?” queried75 the child.
“Because his Master and I are happy,” patiently returned the Mistress.
“Why are you happy?” insisted Cyril.
“Because to-day is Thursday,” put in the Master. “And that means to-morrow will be Friday.”
“And on Friday,” added the Mistress, “there’s going to be a beautiful surprise for you, Cyril. We can’t tell you what it is, but—”
102“Why can’t you tell me?” urged the child. “Aw, go ahead and tell me! I think you might.”
The Master had gone over to the nearest window; and was staring out into the grey-black dusk. Midwinter gripped the dead world; and the twilight76 air was deathly chill. The tall naked treetops stood gaunt and wraithlike77 against a leaden sky.
To the north, the darkness was deepest. Evil little puffs78 of gale80 stirred the powdery snow into myriads82 of tiny dancing white devils. It had been a fearful winter, thus far; colder than for a score of years; so cold that many a wild woodland creature, which usually kept far back in the mountains, had ventured down nearer to civilisation83 for forage84 and warmth.
Deer tracks a-plenty had been seen, close up to the gates of the Place. And, two days ago, in the forest, half a mile away, the Master had come upon the half-human footprints of a young bear. Starvation stalked abroad, yonder in the white hills. And need for provender85 had begun to wax stronger among the folk of the wilderness86 than their inborn87 dread88 of humans.
“There’s a big snowstorm coming up,” ruminated89 the Master, as he scanned the grim weather-signs. “A blizzard90, perhaps. I—I hope it won’t delay any incoming steamers. I hope at least one of them will dock on schedule. It—”
He turned back from his musings, aware for the first time that a right sprightly91 dialogue was going on. Cyril was demanding for the eighth time:
“Why won’t you tell me? Aw, I think you might! What’s going to happen that’s so nice, Friday?”
“Wait till Friday and see,” laughed the Mistress.
“Shucks!” he snorted. “You might tell me, now. I 103don’t want to wait and get s’prised. I want to know now. Tell me!”
Under her tolerant smile, the youngster’s voice scaled to an impatient whine92. He was beginning to grow red.
“Let it go at that!” ordained93 the Master. “Don’t spoil your own fun, by trying to find out, beforehand. Be a good sportsman.”
“Fun!” snarled94 Cyril. “What’s the fun of secrets? I want to know—”
"It’s snowing," observed the Mistress, as a handful of flakes95 began to drift past the windows, tossed along on a puff79 of wind.
“I want to know!” half-wept the child; angry at the change of subject, and noting that the Mistress was moving toward the next room, with Lad at her heels. “Come back and tell me!”
He stamped after her to bar her way. Lad was between the irate96 Cyril and the Mistress. In babyish rage at the dog’s placid97 presence in his path, he drew back one ungainly foot and kicked the astonished collie in the ribs98.
At the outrage99, Lad spun100 about, a growl101 in his throat. But he forbore to bite or even to show his teeth. The growl had been of indignant protest at such unheard-of treatment; not a menace. Then the dog stalked haughtily102 to his cave, and lay down there.
But the human witnesses to the scene were less forbearing;—being only humans. The Mistress cried out, in sharp protest at the little brute’s action. And the Master leaned forward, swinging Cyril clear of the ground. Holding the child firmly, but with no roughness, the Master steadied his own voice as best he could; and said:
“This time you’ve not even bothered to wait till our backs were turned. So don’t waste breath by crying and 104saying you didn’t do it. You’re not my child; so I have no right to punish you. And I’m not going to. But I want you to know you’ve just kicked something that’s worth fifty of you.”
“You let me down!” Cyril snarled.
“Lad is too white and clean and square to hurt anything that can’t hit back,” continued the Master. “And you are not. That’s the difference between you. One of the several million differences,—all of them in Lad’s favour. When a child begins life by being cruel to dumb animals, it’s a pretty bad sign for the way he’s due to treat his fellow-humans in later years,—if ever any of them are at his mercy. For your own sake, learn to behave at least as decently as a dog. If—”
“You let me down, you big bully28!” squalled Cyril, bellowing103 with impotent fury. “You let me down! I—”
“Certainly,” assented104 the Master, lowering him to the floor. “I didn’t hurt you. I only held you so you couldn’t run out of the room, before I’d finish speaking; as you did, the time I caught you putting red pepper on Lad’s food. He—”
"You wouldn’t dare touch me, if my folks were here, you big bully!" screeched105 the child, in a veritable mania106 of rage; jumping up and down and actually foaming107 at the mouth. “But I’ll tell ’em on you! See if I don’t! I’ll tell ’em how you slung108 me around and said I was worse’n a dirty dog like Lad. And Daddy’ll lick you for it. See if he don’t! He—”
The Master could not choke back a laugh; though the poor Mistress looked horribly distressed109 at the maniac110 outburst, and strove soothingly111 to check it. She, like the Master, remembered now that Cyril’s doting112 mother had spoken of the child’s occasional fits of red wrath114. But this was the first glimpse either of them had had of these. 105Hitherto, craft had served Cyril’s turn better than fury.
At sound of the Master’s unintentional laugh the unfortunate child went quite beside himself in his transport of rage.
“I won’t stay in your nasty old house!” he shrieked115. “I’m going to the very first house I can find. And I’m going to tell ’em how you hammered a little feller that hasn’t any folks here to stick up for him. And I’ll get ’em to take me in and send a tel’gram to Daddy and Mother to come save me. I—”
To the astonishment117 of both his hearers, Cyril broke off chokingly in his yelled tirade118; caught up a bibelot from the table, hurled119 it with all his puny121 force at Lad, the innocent cause of the fracas122, and then rushed from the room and from the house.
The Mistress stared after him, dumbfounded; his howls and the jarring slam of the house door echoing direfully in her ears. It was the Master who ended the instant’s hush123 of amaze.
“Whenever I’ve heard a grown man say he wished he was a boy again,” he mused124, “I always set him down for a liar125. But, for once in my life, I honestly wish I was a boy, once more. A boy one day younger and one inch shorter and one pound lighter126 than Cyril. I’d follow him out of doors, yonder, and give him the thrashing of his sweet young life. I’d—”
“Oh, do call him back!” begged the Mistress. “He’ll catch his death of cold, and—”
“Why will he?” challenged the Master, without stirring. “For all his noble rage, I noticed he took thought to grab up his cap and his overcoat from the hall, as he wafted127 himself away. And he still had his arctics on, from this afternoon. He won’t—”
“But suppose he should really go over to one of the 106neighbours,” urged the Mistress, “and tell such an awful story as he threatened to? Or suppose—”
“Not a chance!” the master reassured128 her. “Now that the summer people are away, there isn’t an occupied house within half a mile of here. And he’s not going to trudge129 a half-mile through the snow, in this bitter cold, for the joy of telling lies. No, he’s down at the stables or else he’s sneaked130 in through the kitchen; the way he did that other time when he made a grandstand exit after I’d ventured to lecture him on his general rottenness. Remember how worried about him you were, that time; till we found him sitting in the kitchen and pestering131 the maids? He—”
“But that time, he was only sulky,” said the Mistress. “Not insanely angry, as he is now. I do hope—”
“Stop worrying!” adjured132 the Master. “He’s all right.”
Which proved, for perhaps the trillionth time in history, that a woman’s intuitions are better worth following than a man’s saner133 logic134. For Cyril was not all right. And, at every passing minute he was less and less all right; until presently he was all wrong.
For the best part of an hour, in pursuance of her husband’s counsel, the Mistress sat and waited for the prodigal’s return. Then, surreptitiously, she made a round of the house; sent a man to ransack135 the stables, telephoned to the gate lodge136, and finally came into the Master’s study, big-eyed and pale.
“He isn’t anywhere around,” she reported, frightened. “It’s dinner time. He’s been gone an hour. Nobody’s seen him. He isn’t on the Place. Oh, I wonder if—”
"H’m!" grumbled137 her husband. “He’s engineering an endurance contest, eh? Well, if he can stand it, we can.”
But at sight of the deepening trouble in his wife’s face, 107he got up from his desk. Going out into the hall, he summoned Lad.
“We might shout our heads off,” he said, “and he’d never answer; if he’s really trying to scare us. That’s part of his lovable nature. There’s just one way to track him, in double time. Lad!”
The Master had been drawing on his mackinaw and hip-boots as he spoke113. Now he opened the front door.
“Laddie!” he said, very slowly and incisively138 to the expectantly eager collie. “Cyril! Find Cyril! Find him!”
To the super-wise collie, there was nothing confusing in the command. Like many another good dog, he knew the humans of the household by their names; as well as did any fellow-human. And he knew from long experience the meaning of the word, “Find!”
Countless139 times that word had been used in games and in earnest. Its significance, now, was perfectly140 plain to him. The master wanted him to hunt for the obnoxious141 child who so loved to annoy and hurt him.
Lad would rather have found any one else, at the Master’s behest. But it did not occur to the trained collie to disobey. With a visible diminishing of his first eager excitement, but with submissive haste, the big dog stepped out on to the veranda and began to cast about in the drifts at the porch edge.
Immediately, he struck Cyril’s shuffling142 trail. And, immediately, he trotted143 off along the course.
The task was less simple than ordinarily. For, the snow was coming down in hard-driven sheets; blotting144 out scent2 almost as effectively as sight. But not for naught145 had a thousand generations of Lad’s thoroughbred ancestors traced lost sheep through snowstorms on the Scottish moors146. To their grand descendant they had transmitted 108their weird147 trailing power, to the full. And the scent of Cyril, though faint and fainter, and smothered148 under swirling149 snow, was not too dim for Lad’s sensitive nostrils150 to catch and hold it.
The Master lumbered151 along, through the rising drifts, as fast as he could. But the way was rough and the night was as black dark as it was cold. In a few rods, the dog had far outdistanced him. And, knowing how hard must be the trail to follow by sense of smell, he forbore to call back the questing collie, lest Lad lose the clue altogether. He knew the dog was certain to bark the tidings when he should come up with the fugitive152.
The Master by this time began to share his wife’s worry. For the trail Lad was following led out of the grounds and across the highway, toward the forest.
The newborn snowstorm was developing into a very promising153 little blizzard. And the icy lash154 of the wind proved the fallacy of the old theory, “too cold to snow.” Even by daylight it would have been no light task to steer155 a true course through the whirling and blinding storm. In the darkness the man found himself stumbling along with drunkenly zigzag156 steps; his buffeted157 ears strained through the noise of the wind for sound of Lad’s bark.
But no such sound came to him. And, he realised that snow and adverse158 winds can sometimes muffle159 even the penetrating160 bark of a collie. The man grew frightened. Halting, he shouted with all the power of his lungs. No whimper from Cyril answered the hail. Nor, at his Master’s summons, did Lad come bounding back through the drifts. Again and again, the Master called.
For the first time in his obedient life, Lad did not, respond to the call. And the Master knew his own voice could not carry, for a single furlong, against wind and snowfall.
109“I’ll go on for another half-hour,” he told himself, as he sought to discern the dog’s all-but obliterated161 footsteps through the deepening snow. “And then I’ll go back and raise a search party.”
He came to a bewildered stop. Fainter and more indistinguishable had Lad’s floundering tracks become. Now,—by dint162 of distance and snow,—they ceased to be visible in the welter of drifted whiteness under the glare of the Master’s flashlight.
“This means a search party,” decided163 the man.
And he turned homeward, to telephone for a posse of neighbours.
Lad, being only a dog, had no such way of sharing his burden. He had been told to find the child. And his simple code of life and of action left him no outlet164 from doing his duty; be that duty irksome or easy. So he kept on. Far ahead of the Master, his keen ears had not caught the sound of the shouts. The gale and the snow muffled165 them and drove them back into the shouter’s throat.
Cyril, naturally, had not had the remotest intent of labouring through the bitter cold and the snow to the house of any neighbour; there to tell his woful tale of oppression. The semblance166 of martyrdom, without its bothersome actuality, was quite enough for his purpose. Once before, at home, when his father had administered a mild and much-needed spanking, Cyril had made a like threat; and had then gone to hide in a chum’s home, for half a day; returning to find his parents in agonies of remorse167 and fear, and ready to load him with peace-offerings. The child saw no reason why the same tactics should not serve every bit as triumphantly168, in the present case.
He knew the maids were in the kitchen and at least one man was in the stables. He did not want his whereabouts to be discovered before he should have been able to raise a 110healthy and dividend-bringing crop of remorse in the hearts of the Mistress and the Master, so he resolved to go farther afield.
In the back of the meadow, across the road, and on the hither side of the forest, was a disused cattle-barrack, with two stalls under its roofpile of hay. The barrack was one of Cyril’s favourite playhouses. It was dry and tight. Through his thick clothing he was not likely to be very cold, there; for an hour or two. He could snuggle down in the warm hay and play Indians, with considerable comfort; until such time as the fright and penitence169 of his hosts should have come to a climax170 and make his return an ovation171.
Meanwhile, it would be fun to picture their uneasiness and fear for his safety; and to visualise their journeyings through the snow to the houses of various neighbours, in search of the lost child.
Buoyed172 up by such happy thoughts as these, Cyril struck out at a lively pace for the highroad and into the field beyond. The barrack, he knew, lay diagonally across the wide meadow, and near the adjoining woods. Five minutes of tramping through the snow ought to bring him to it. And he set off, diagonally.
But, before he had gone a hundred yards, he lost his first zest173 in the adventure. The darkness had thickened; and the vagrant174 wind-gusts had tightened175 into a steady gale;—a gale which carried before it a blinding wrack176 of stingingly hard-driven snow.
The grey of the dying dusk was blotted177 out. The wind smote178 and battered179 the spindling child. Mechanically, he kept on for five or six minutes, making scant180 and irregular progress. Then, his spirit wavered. Splendid as it would be to scare these hateful people, there was nothing splendid 111in the weather that numbed181 him with cold and took away his breath and half-blinded him with snow.
What was the fun of making others suffer; if he himself were suffering tenfold more? And, on reaching the barrack, he would have all that freezing and blast-hammering trip back again. Aw, what was the use?
And Cyril came to a halt. He had definitely abandoned his high enterprise. Turning around, he began to retrace183 his stumbling steps. But, at best, in a large field, in a blizzard and in pitch darkness, and with no visible landmarks184, it is not easy to double back on one’s route, with any degree of accuracy. In Cyril’s case, the thing was wholly impossible.
Blindly he had been travelling in an erratic185 half-circle. Another minute of walking would have brought him to the highroad, not far from the Place’s gateway186. And, as he changed his course, to seek the road, he moved at an obtuse187 angle to his former line of march.
Thus, another period of exhausting progress brought him up with a bump against a solid barrier. His chilled face came into rough contact with the top rail of a line fence.
So relieved was the startled child by this encounter that he forgot to whine at the abrasion188 wrought189 upon his cheek by the rail. He had begun to feel the first gnawings of panic. Now, at once, he was calm again. For he knew where he was. This was the line fence between the Place’s upper section and the land of the next neighbour. All he need do was to walk along in the shelter of it, touching190 the rails now and then to make certain of not straying, until he should come out on the road, at the gate lodge. It was absurdly easy; compared to what he had been undergoing. Besides, the lee of the fence afforded a certain shelter from 112wind and snow. The child realised he had been turned about in the dark; and had been going in the wrong direction. But now, at last, his course seemed plain to him.
So he set off briskly, close to the fence;—and directly away from the nearby road.
For another half-hour he continued his inexplicably191 long tramp; always buoyed up by the hope of coming to the road in a few more steps; and doggedly192 sure of his bearings. Then, turning out from the fence, in order to skirt a wide hazel thicket193, he tripped over an outcrop of rock, and tumbled into a drift. Getting to his feet, he sought to regain194 the fence; but the fall had shaken his senses and he floundered off in the opposite direction. After a rod or two of such futile195 plunging196, a stumbling step took him clean off the edge of the world, and into the air.
All this, for the merest instant. Then, he landed with a jounce in a heap of brush and dead leaves. Squatting197 there, breathless, he stretched out his mittened198 hand, along the ground. At the end of less than another yard of this exploring, his fingers came again to the edge of the world and were thrust out over nothingness.
With hideous199 suddenness, Cyril understood where he was; and what had happened to him and why. He knew he had followed the fence for a full mile, away from the road; through the nearer woods, and gradually upward until he had come to the line of hazels on the lip of the ninety-foot ravine which dipped down into a swamp-stretch known as “Pancake Hollow.”
That was what he had done. In trying to skirt the hazels, he had stepped over the cliff-edge, and had dropped five feet or more to a rather narrow ledge200 that juts201 out over the ravine.
113Well did he remember this ledge. More than once, on walks with the Mistress and the Master, he had paused to look down on it and to think what fun it would be to imprison202 some one there and to stand above, guying the victim. It had been a sweet thought. And now, he, himself, was imprisoned203 there.
But for luck, he might have fallen the whole ninety feet; for the ledge did not extend far along the face of the cliff. At almost any other spot his tumble might have meant—
Cyril shuddered204 a little; and pursued the grisly theme no further. He was safe enough, till help should come. And, here, the blast of the wind did not reach him. Also, by cuddling low in the litter of leaves and fallen brush, he could ward24 off a little of the icy cold.
He crouched205 there; shaking and worn out. He was only eleven. His fragile body had undergone a fearful hour of toil206 and hardship. As he was drawing in his breath for a cry to any chance searchers, the boy was aware of a swift pattering, above his head. He looked up. The sky was a shade or two less densely207 black than the ravine edge. As Cyril gazed in terror, a shaggy dark shape outlined itself against the sky-line, just above him.
Having followed the eccentric footsteps of the wanderer, with great and greater difficulty, to the fence-lee where the tracing was much easier, Lad came to the lip of the ravine a bare five minutes after the child’s drop to the ledge.
There, for an instant, the great dog stood; ears cocked, head inquiringly on one side; looking down upon the ledge. Cyril shrank to a quivering little heap of abject208 terror, at sight of the indistinct animal shape looming209 mountain-high above him.
This for the briefest moment. Then back went Lad’s head in a pealing67 bark that seemed to fill the world and to 114re-echo from a myriad81 directions at once. Again and again, Lad gave clamorous210 voice to his discovery of the lost child.
On a clear or windless night, his racket must have penetrated211 to the dullest ears at the Place, and far beyond. For the bark of a dog has more carrying power than has any other sound of double its volume. But, in the face of a sixty-mile gale laden213 with tons of flying snow, the report of a cannon214 could scarce have carried over the stretch of windswept ground between the ravine and the Place.
Lad seemed to understand this. For, after a dozen thunderous barks, he fell silent; and stood again, head on one side, in thought.
At first sound of the barking, Cyril had recognised the dog. And his terror had vanished. In its place surged a peevish215 irritation216 against the beast that had so frightened him. He groped for a rock-fragment to hurl120 up at the rackety collie.
Then, the child paused in his fumbling217. The dog had scant reason to love him or to seek his society. Of late, Lad had kept out of his way as much as possible. Thus it was not likely the collie had come here of his own accord, on such a night; for the mere116 joy of being with his tormentor.
His presence must mean that the Master was close behind; and that the whole Place was in a ferment218 of anxiety about the wanderer. By stoning Lad away and checking the barks, Cyril might well prevent the searchers from finding him. Too weak and too numb182 with cold to climb up the five-foot cliff-face to the level ground above, he did not want to miss any chance for rescue.
Hence, as Lad ceased to bark, the child set up a yell, with all his slight lung-power, to attract the seekers’ notice. 115He ordered Lad to “Speak!” and shook his fist angrily at the dog, when no answering bark followed.
Despairing of making any one hear his trumpeting announcement that he had found the child, Lad presently made up his mind as to the only course that remained. Wheeling about, head down, he faced the storm again; and set off at what speed he could compass, toward home, to lead the Master to the spot where Cyril was trapped. This seemed the only expedient219 left. It was what he had done, long ago, when Lady had caught her foot in a fox-trap, back in the woods.
As the dog vanished from against the grey-black skyline, Cyril set up a howl of wrathful command to him to come back. Anything was better than to be in this dreary220 spot alone. Besides, with Lad gone, how could Lad’s Master find the way to the ledge?
Twice the child called after the retreating collie. And, in another few steps, Lad had halted and begun to retrace his way toward the ledge.
He did not return because of Cyril’s call. He had learned, by ugly experience, to disregard the child’s orders. They were wont221 to mean much unpleasantness for him. Nevertheless, Lad halted. Not in obedience222 to the summons; but because of a sound and a scent that smote him as he started to gallop223 away. An eddy224 of the wind had borne both to the dog’s acute senses.
Stiffening225, his curved eyeteeth baring themselves, his hackles bristling226, Lad galloped227 back to the ravine-lip; and stood there sniffing228 the icy air and growling229 deep in his throat. Looking down to the ledge he saw Cyril was no longer its sole occupant. Crouched at the opening of a crevice230, not ten feet from the unseeing child, was something bulky and sinister;—a mere menacing blur231 against the darker rock.
116Crawling home to its lair232, supperless and frantic233 with hunger, after a day of fruitless hunting through the dead forest world, a giant wildcat had been stirred from its first fitful slumber234 in the ledge’s crevice by the impact of the child upon the heap of leaves. The human scent had startled the creature and it had slunk farther back into the crevice. The more so when the bark and inimical odour of a big dog were added to the shattering of the ravine’s solitude.
Then the dog had gone away. Curiosity,—the besetting235 trait of the cat tribe,—had mastered the crevice’s dweller236. The wildcat had wriggled237 noiselessly forward a little way, to learn what manner of enemy had invaded its lair. And peering out, it had beheld238 a spindling child; a human atom without strength or weapon.
Fear changed to fury in the bob-cat’s feline239 heart. Here was no opponent; but a mere item of prey240. And, with fury, stirred long-unsatisfied hunger; the famine hunger of midwinter which makes the folk of the wilderness risk capture or death by raiding guarded hencoops.
Out from the crevice stole the wildcat. Its ears were flattened241 close to its evil head. Its yellow eyes were mere slits242 of fire. Its claws unsheathed themselves from the furry243 pads,—long, hooked claws, capable of disembowelling a grown deer at one sabre-stroke of the muscular hindlegs. Into the rubble244 and litter of the ledge the claws sank, and receded245, in rhythmic246 motion.
The compact yellow body tightened into a ball. The back quivered. The feet braced247 themselves. The cat was gauging248 its distance and making ready for a murder-spring. Cyril, his head turned the other way, was still peering up along the cliff-edge for sight of Lad.
This was what Lad’s scent and hearing,—and perhaps something else,—had warned him of, in that instant of the 117wind’s eddying249 shift. And this was the scene he looked down upon, now, from the ravine-lip, five feet above.
The collie brain,—though never the collie heart,—is wont to flash back, in moments of mortal stress, to the ancestral wolf. Never in his own life had Sunnybank Lad set eyes on a wildcat. But in the primal250 forests, wolf and bob-cat had perforce met and clashed, a thousand times. There they had begun and had waged the eternal cat-and-dog feud251, of the ages.
Ancestry252 now told Lad that there is perhaps no more murderously dangerous foe253 than an angry wildcat. Ancestry also told him a wolf’s one chance of certain victory in such a contest. Ancestry’s aid was not required, to tell him the mortal peril254 awaiting this human child who had so grievously and causelessly tormented255 him. But the great loyal heart, in this stark256 moment, took no thought of personal grudges257. There was but one thing to do,—one perilous258, desperate chance to take; if the child were to be saved.
The wildcat sprang.
Such a leap could readily have carried it across double the space which lay between it and Cyril. But not one-third of that space was covered in the lightning pounce259.
From the upper air—apparently from nowhere—a huge shaggy body launched itself straight downward. As unerringly as the swoop260 of an eagle, the down-whizzing bulk flew. It smote the leaping wildcat, in mid-flight.
A set of mighty jaws261,—jaws that could crack a beef-bone as a man cracks a filbert,—clove deep and unerringly into the cat’s back, just behind the shoulders. And those jaws flung all their strength into the ravening262 grip.
A squall—hideous in its unearthly clangour—split the night silences. The maddened cat whirled about, spitting and yowling; and set its foaming teeth in the dog’s fur-armoured shoulder. But before the terrible curved claws 118could be called into action, Lad’s rending263 jaws had done their work upon the spine264.
To the verge265 of the narrow ledge the two combatants had rolled in their unloving embrace. Its last lurch266 of agony carried the stricken wildcat over the edge and out to the ninety-foot drop into the ravine. Lad was all-but carried along with his adversary267. He clawed wildly with his toes for a purchase on the smooth cliff wall; over which his hindquarters had slipped. For a second he hung, swaying, above the abyss.
Cyril, scared into semi-insanity by sight of the sudden brief battle, had caught up a stick from the rubbish at his feet. With this, not at all knowing what he did, he smote the struggling Lad over the head with every atom of his feeble force.
Luckily for the gallant dog, the stick was rotten. It broke, in the blow; but not before its impact had well-nigh destroyed Lad’s precarious268 balance.
One clawing hindfoot found toe-room in a flaw of rock. A tremendous heave of all his strained muscles; and Lad was scrambling269 to safety on the ledge.
Cyril’s last atom of vigour270 and resistance had gone into that panic blow at the dog. Now, the child had flung himself helplessly down, against the wall of the ledge; and was weeping in delirious271 hysterics.
Lad moved over to him; hesitated a moment, looking wistfully upward at the solid ground above. Then, he seemed to decide which way his duty pointed. Lying down beside the freezing child, he pressed his great shaggy body close to Cyril’s; protecting him from the swirling snow and from the worst of the cold.
The dog’s dark, deep-set eyes roved watchfully272 toward the crevice, alert for sign of any other marauder that might issue forth273. His own shaggy shoulder was hurting him, 119annoyingly, from the wildcat’s bite. But to this he gave no heed274. Closer yet, he pressed his warm, furry body to the ice-cold youngster; fending275 off the elements as valorously as he had fended276 off the wildcat.
The warmth of the great body began to penetrate212 Cyril’s numbed senses. The child snuggled to the dog gratefully. Lad’s pink tongue licked caressingly277 at the white face; and the collie whimpered crooning sympathy to the little sufferer.
So, for a time the dog and the child lay there; Cyril’s numb body warming under the contact.
Then, at a swift intake278 of the windy air, Lad’s whimper changed to a thunder of wild barking. His nostrils had told him of the search party’s approach, a few hundred yards to the windward.
Their dispiritingly aimless hunt changing into a scrambling rush in the direction whence came the faint-heard barks, the searchers trooped toward the ledge.
“Here we are!” shrilled279 the child, as the Master’s halloo sounded directly above. “Here we are! Down here! A—a lion tackled us, awhile back. But we licked him;—I and Laddie!”
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1
ailment
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| n.疾病，小病 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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3
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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gangling
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| adj.瘦长得难看的 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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6
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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7
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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9
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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12
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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13
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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14
utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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16
blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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17
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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18
dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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19
lanky
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| adj.瘦长的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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25
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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26
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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27
bullying
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| v.恐吓，威逼( bully的现在分词 )；豪；跋扈 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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29
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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30
effusively
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| adv.变溢地，热情洋溢地 | |
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proffer
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| v.献出，赠送；n.提议，建议 | |
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32
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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35
majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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39
shunning
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的现在分词 ) | |
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40
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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41
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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42
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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43
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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44
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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45
tacks
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| 大头钉( tack的名词复数 )； 平头钉； 航向； 方法 | |
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46
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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47
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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48
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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49
stanch
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| v.止住（血等）；adj.坚固的；坚定的 | |
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50
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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51
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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52
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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53
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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54
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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pester
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| v.纠缠，强求 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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57
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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58
mitigate
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| vt.（使）减轻，（使）缓和 | |
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59
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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60
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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61
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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spanking
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| adj.强烈的，疾行的；n.打屁股 | |
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piously
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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65
kennels
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| n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处，养狗场；狗窝( kennel的名词复数 )；养狗场 | |
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66
brat
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| n.孩子；顽童 | |
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67
pealing
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的现在分词 ) | |
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68
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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69
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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70
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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71
exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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73
trumpeting
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| 大声说出或宣告（trumpet的现在分词形式） | |
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74
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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76
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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wraithlike
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78
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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79
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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80
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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81
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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82
myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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83
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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84
forage
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| n.(牛马的)饲料，粮草；v.搜寻，翻寻 | |
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85
provender
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| n.刍草；秣料 | |
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86
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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87
inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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88
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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89
ruminated
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| v.沉思( ruminate的过去式和过去分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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90
blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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91
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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92
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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93
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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94
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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95
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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96
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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97
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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98
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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99
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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100
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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101
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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102
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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103
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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104
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
screeched
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的过去式和过去分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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106
mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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107
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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108
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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109
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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110
maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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111
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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112
doting
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| adj.溺爱的，宠爱的 | |
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113
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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114
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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115
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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117
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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118
tirade
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| n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
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119
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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120
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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121
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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122
fracas
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| n.打架；吵闹 | |
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123
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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124
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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125
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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126
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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127
wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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129
trudge
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| v.步履艰难地走；n.跋涉，费力艰难的步行 | |
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130
sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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131
pestering
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| 使烦恼，纠缠( pester的现在分词 ) | |
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132
adjured
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| v.（以起誓或诅咒等形式）命令要求( adjure的过去式和过去分词 )；祈求；恳求 | |
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133
saner
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| adj.心智健全的( sane的比较级 )；神志正常的；明智的；稳健的 | |
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134
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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135
ransack
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| v.彻底搜索，洗劫 | |
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136
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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137
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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138
incisively
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| adv.敏锐地，激烈地 | |
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139
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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140
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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141
obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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142
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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143
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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144
blotting
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| 吸墨水纸 | |
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145
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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146
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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147
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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148
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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149
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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150
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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151
lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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152
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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153
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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154
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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155
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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156
zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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157
buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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158
adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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159
muffle
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| v.围裹；抑制；发低沉的声音 | |
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160
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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161
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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162
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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163
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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164
outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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165
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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166
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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167
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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168
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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169
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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170
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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171
ovation
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| n.欢呼，热烈欢迎，热烈鼓掌 | |
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172
buoyed
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| v.使浮起( buoy的过去式和过去分词 )；支持；为…设浮标；振奋…的精神 | |
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173
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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174
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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175
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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176
wrack
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| v.折磨；n.海草 | |
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177
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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178
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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179
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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180
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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181
numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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182
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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183
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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184
landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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185
erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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186
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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187
obtuse
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| adj.钝的；愚钝的 | |
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188
abrasion
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| n.磨（擦）破，表面磨损 | |
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189
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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190
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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191
inexplicably
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| adv.无法说明地，难以理解地，令人难以理解的是 | |
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192
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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193
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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194
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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195
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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196
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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197
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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198
mittened
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| v.（使）变得潮湿，变得湿润( moisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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199
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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200
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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201
juts
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| v.（使）突出( jut的第三人称单数 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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202
imprison
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| vt.监禁，关押，限制，束缚 | |
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203
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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204
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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205
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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206
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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207
densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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208
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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209
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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210
clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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211
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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212
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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213
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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214
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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215
peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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216
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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217
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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218
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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219
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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220
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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221
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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222
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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223
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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224
eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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225
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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226
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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227
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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228
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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229
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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230
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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231
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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232
lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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233
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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234
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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235
besetting
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| adj.不断攻击的v.困扰( beset的现在分词 )；不断围攻；镶；嵌 | |
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236
dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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237
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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238
beheld
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| 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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239
feline
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| adj.猫科的 | |
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240
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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241
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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242
slits
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| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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243
furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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244
rubble
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| n.（一堆）碎石，瓦砾 | |
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245
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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246
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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247
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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248
gauging
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| n.测量[试]，测定，计量v.（用仪器）测量( gauge的现在分词 )；估计；计量；划分 | |
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249
eddying
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| 涡流，涡流的形成 | |
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250
primal
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| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
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251
feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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252
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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253
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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254
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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255
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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256
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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257
grudges
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| 不满，怨恨，妒忌( grudge的名词复数 ) | |
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258
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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259
pounce
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| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
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260
swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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261
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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262
ravening
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| a.贪婪而饥饿的 | |
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263
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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264
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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265
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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266
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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267
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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268
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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269
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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270
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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271
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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272
watchfully
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| 警惕地，留心地 | |
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273
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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274
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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275
fending
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| v.独立生活，照料自己( fend的现在分词 )；挡开，避开 | |
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276
fended
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| v.独立生活，照料自己( fend的过去式和过去分词 )；挡开，避开 | |
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277
caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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278
intake
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| n.吸入，纳入；进气口，入口 | |
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279
shrilled
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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