The aroma1 of cigars blended delightfully2 with the fragrant3 evening air. Through the cool green lacing of the creeper the sun poured the last of its golden rays into the wide stoop. The mists were already gathering4 upon the lower slopes of the hills, and a deep purpling seemed to be steadily5 embracing the whole of the great mountain range.
Two men were lounging comfortably in wide wicker chairs on the veranda6. They were resting bodies that rarely knew fatigue7 in the strenuous8 life that was theirs. But then the day was closing, and one of them had come a long saddle journey. Whisky stood on a table at the elbow of Dug McFarlane. Jeffrey Masters had coffee near by.
Outside the veranda a smudge fire in a bucket was doing battle with attacking mosquitoes, while its thin spiral of smoke served as a screen upon the still air to shut out the view of the disheveled township of Orrville.
Dug McFarlane, opulent, of middle life and massive proportions, was in strong contrast to his guest. The American-Scot was something of a product of the soil. He was of the type which forces its way up from the smallest of small beginnings, a type which decides early upon a career in life, and which deviates10 not one step from the set course. He was a man of one idea--cattle.
He knew nothing beyond--cattle. Cattle was the sum and substance of his celibate11 life. He was an old type of ranchman whose waking hours were devoted13 to a physical labor14 which left no room for anything else. But Jeff knew that for all his roughness of manner and speech, a roughness which left his own partner, Bud, a man of education and refinement15 beside him, he counted his wealth, as he, Jeff, could only hope to count his in the distant years to come.
Jeff was his guest for the night, and the dispute upon which he was to arbitrate was to be settled upon the arrival of the man Peters. And while they waited they talked of the thing which was their mutual16 interest. The land and its produce, whether animal or vegetable, was their beginning and end. They discussed every prospect17 from the overwhelming competition of the Argentine, to the rapid transformation18 of grazing pastures into golden wheat fields. Their interest seemed endless, and it seemed only to require the non-appearance of Peters for their talk to continue until sleep overtook them.
But the break came in the flow of their "shop" at the mention of the name of Peters. Jeff was curious to hear about him.
"Who is this Peters, anyway?" he demanded. "He's not down in the stock register, and nobody seems to have found him except you."
Dug's reply came with a great laugh. His very bright gray eyes were full of a good humor beneath his pronounced black brows.
"Peters? Why, I guess Peters 'ud make a funeral procession laff. You've never seen him? You don't know him? No. Sure you wouldn't. Nor you wouldn't find him registered. Y'see, they don't register mixed farm stock. Anyways, he got me laffin' all the time. But he's bright--oh, yep, he's bright, sure. He's a little feller. To git him right you need to think of a buck9 louse with a think-box developed abnormal. He's a great amusin' little cuss when you see him on his patch of land. You'd think he was runnin' a cirkis he's so busy fixin' things wrong. I'd like him fine if it wa'an't fer his habits. I can't stand the feller who eats the top of his fingers raw, an' sings hymns20 o' Sunday in a voice that never oughter been handed out to anything livin' that hadn't the sense to choke itself at birth."
"Is that the reason of the dispute?" Jeff asked with smile.
Dug grinned and shook his head.
"No, siree," he cried. "It ain't a thing to do with it. But I guess we'll keep clear of the dispute till he gets around. Y'see, this arbitration21 game needs to be played good. I'd hate to get ahead of the little cuss by settin' out my case in private. Nope. I hain't got a thing agin that grasshopper22. Not a thing, and I jest need to get this thing straightened right, even if it goes agin me. That's why we fixed23 on appealin' to you rather than the law. Y'see, I could buy up a decision at law, which Peters knows, so we decided24 on the right judgment25 of a straight feller. Say, what in----!"
Dug sprang from his chair with a forcible oath. Jeff, too, was on his feet. There was a frantic26 clatter27 beyond the screen of creeper. A string of hoarse28 invective29 in a human voice. The hammering of horses' hoofs30 and the sound of tin being battered31 in a wanton riot. Dug broke into a great laugh as he thrust his head out.
"Well, I be----!" he cried.
Jeff joined in his laugh. An absurdly small man was clinging desperately32 to the saddle of an absurdly large horse, which was rearing and plunging33 in a wild effort to shed its rider and bolt from the neighborhood of the overturned smudge-fire bucket.
What a wealth of terror reigned34. The gray-headed little man's face matched the hue35 of his hair. His short arms were grabbing frantically37 at his horse's neck. His eyes were full of a piteous appeal, and his savage-looking spurs were firmly grappling his steed's flanks. The wretched horse was shaking in every limb. Its eyes were bulging38, and the fierce snorts of his gushing39 nostrils40 had the force of escaping steam.
Before any assistance could be offered by the onlookers41 the climax42 was reached and passed. Elias Peters rolled slowly out of the saddle and reached the ground with a heavy flop43. Then, while its recent burden gathered himself up, quite unhurt and smiling amiably44 in relief, the horse contentedly45 mouched off toward a patch of inviting46 grass.
"Guess I'm kind o' late, Mr. McFarlane," Elias apologized. "An' it seems I've bust47 up your fire-bucket some," he added ruefully. Then with cheery optimism: "It was hustling48 to get here. I didn't jest see it. Still, I got around."
"You sure have," grinned Dug. Then he indicated his companion. "This is Mr. Jeffrey Masters, President of the Western Union. If you'll come right along in we ken49 get things fixed up. Meanwhiles I'll jest have a 'hand' round-up your plug an' feed him hay."
* * * * * *
Another chair was brought from the house and Elias Peters was ensconced therein. He was a gray little man. Gray from head to foot, it seemed. His hair, his eyes, his skin, his whiskers, his shirt, his loose jacket over it, his trousers. Even the top-boots he wore, which, had doubtless once been black. Everything about him was gray.
Dug pressed whisky on him.
"Take your time," he had said, in his easy, cordial fashion. "Ther' ain't no sort o' hurry. It's li'ble to shake a boy o' your years foolin' around in the dust when you'd oughter be in the saddle."
"That's just it, Mr. McFarlane," came the prompt, distressed50 complaint. "What in the nature o' blamed things made me act that way?"
"Jest the--nature o' things, I guess."
The little man's eyes twinkled.
"Guess you mean ther's folks who ain't in their right element in the saddle, an'--I'm one of 'em." Then he turned on Jeff, whose whole interest had been quite absorbed in a personality which Dug had described as being reminiscent of a "buck louse." "Say, Mr. Masters, guess you ain't never tried any stunt52 like raisin53' kebbiges on a hog54 ranch12? No, sure you ain't. Ther's jest one feller runnin' loose on this planet 'ud act that way, an' that's me. Guess I bin36 doin' it all my life," he added, thoughtfully chewing a forefinger55. "I was built for, an' raised in a fifth rate city, an' I got the ideas an' ambitions of the President of a Republic. Ther' ain't a blamed thing I can't do but I want to do. An' the worst of it is ther's a sort o' restless spirit in me jest sets me so crazy to do it I can't resist makin' the jump. That's how I come to buy up a bum56 homestead up toward the hills here, an' got the notion I could make a pile runnin' a mixed farm that way. That's how I come to get outside a hoss when I'd be safer inside. That's how I come to--'break' a deal more prairie land than I could ever sow or harvest. That's how I bought machinery57 for a thousand acre farm when I'd only got a half a mile. That's how I come to run a bunch of cows without settin' up fencin' around my crops. That's how I bo't the whole blamed lay-out without verifyin' the darned law feller's statement I'd got grazin' rights on Mr. McFarlane's grass--which is the thing I came right here to yarn58 about when I got mixed up with that unnatural59 hell, which I've learned since was only set up to amuse the skitters. Kind o' makes me feel if I was to set fer my pictur' I'd sure come out a shipwreck60 at sea, or some other darn fool kind of unpleasantness."
Jeff was forced to echo the laugh which Dug indulged in without restraint. It seemed cruel in face of the strange little man's serious distress51. But its only effect upon him was to produce an inquiring glance of profound but unresentful astonishment61.
"Guess I must 'a' said something," he protested mildly. "Seems to me I most generly do, with Mr. McFarlane around." Then he smiled in his wintry fashion, which was quite powerless to add warmth to his curious aspect of grayness. "Guess he must ha' been born laffin'--p'raps," he added thoughtfully. "It's a dandy thing bein' born laffin'. I don't reckon I ever got that luck. It's more likely my moma got lost in a fog the day I was born. Can't account noways fer things otherwise."
Dug pushed the whisky bottle at him as a set-off to his own uncontrolled mirth, and in a few moments contrived62 to subdue63 his paroxysms sufficiently64 to start the business in hand.
"Now, Masters," he said, as soon as the diminutive65 Elias had ministered adequately to his glass, "we've got a curious proposition to set before you. It's jest one of them things which crops up in a country like this, where a whole heap o' the laws happens along through custom. An' like all sech customs, ther's li'ble to be a tarnation lot of friction66 lyin' around if we can't get a right settlement. Now, if we go to the courts it's goin' to be a mighty67 big scrap68, eatin' up a hell of a pile of dollars. An' if you're wise to the ways of the law fellers you ken just about figger the verdict is goin' to come along to the feller with the biggest wad. In this case I guess I'm the feller with the biggest wad. Now, ther's no sort o' bad blood between Peters an' me, 'cep' it is he will sing hymns outrageous69 on a Sunday. Still, I ain't goin' to let that cut no ice. I'm out for a square decision between us by a feller that don't know the meanin' of graft70. I don't care a cuss who gets it. But I ain't goin' to be bluffed71 by any fancy legal readings of a position by city lawyers who don't know the north end of a steer73 goin' south from the cluckin' proposition of a blind hen motherin' a litter o' dormice. Peters here'll give you his case, seein' he's plaintiff, in an elegant flow of warm air, an' when he's through I'll sort of hand you a counterblast. An' when we finished you'll hand out your dope on the subject, that is if we ain't talked you into a home for incurable74 arbitrators. You'll get busy right away, Peters."
The rancher's manner was irresistible75 in its breezy frankness and generosity76. Jeff wondered at him. Any man of modern business methods, he felt, would have jumped at the advantage which his wealth would have given him in the law courts over so insignificant77 a person as Elias Peters. The whole situation inspired in him the feeling that he was in the presence of a really big man. A man who deserved every fraction of his success.
Nor was there any doubt as to the little gray man's feelings as he took a drink of whisky, and fixed his small eyes upon the weather and years-lined features of his adversary78.
"Guess you've made me feel 'bout19 as big as an under-fed skitter," he complained. "You make me sort o' feel I want to tell you to keep your darn grazin' rights till I ken hand you a bunch of bills such as I'd like to pass on to an honest man. But I don't guess I'm goin' to do it. Y'see, I just can't afford it. If I can't graze my stock on your grass they got to starve, or I got to get out. An', seein' I doped all my wad into this lay-out, it 'ud well-nigh mean ruin to act that way."
Then he turned to Jeff, who was almost bewildered at the curious attitude toward each other of these men.
"Now, I ain't got a fancy yarn to hand you," he went on, fumbling79 in his pockets. "I jest got my papers, here, as I got 'em from the law fellers. You best take 'em, an' after we done get a look into 'em." He passed them across. "Now these are the fac's of how I bo't, why I bo't, an' who I bo't from. The place is a haf section, an' they asked five thousand odd dollars for it. It was a bum sort o' homestead, an' belonged to a widder woman who'd got her man shot up by some rustlers workin' around this country. They went by the name of Whitstone, but their real name, by them papers, was Van Blooren----"
"What name?" Jeff's voice broke sharply in upon the little man.
"Van Blooren."
"Go on."
Jeff's eyes were gazing out through the lacing of creeper. He was no longer regarding the man's unemotional gray features.
"Wal, the place wa'an't worth the five thousand, 'cep' fer one clause in them papers. This widder woman owned a right to graze up to two hundred head o' stock on Mr. McFarlane's range. There was no mention o' lease, nor nothin' to talk of payin' fer it. The right was in the deed of sale, clear an' unquestioned. You'll see it right there in them papers. Wal, I'm runnin' a hundred of stock, and the half section is under cultivation80. Now, Mr. McFarlane comes on me with the news that this widder woman had no such rights to sell, an' that she and her man were only allowed to graze their stock on his grass to help them out. He's acted white over it so far, an' ain't taken no sort of action. He's jest let my fool cows an' their calves81 run around chewin' till their jaws82 is tired, which is a white way of seein' things. All he's handed me is that I ain't got no right, an' the thing stands pending83 your decision. He says the whole proposition is jest business. He's got to safeguard the values of his property. Now, sir, I claim them rights by right of that deed, an' if ther's any case it's between that Van Blooren widder an' Mr. McFarlane. You got my papers, an'--wal, how d'you guess I stand?"
The little man's eyes were anxious as he made his final appeal. But no satisfaction was forthcoming at the moment. Jeff's head was bent84 over the papers he had been handed. His eyes were hidden. He seemed wholly engrossed85 upon the various clauses in the deed. Finally he spoke86 without looking up.
"There's no deed granting grazing rights executed by Mr. McFarlane here," he said.
Before Peters could reply, Dug broke in.
"Ther' never was one made," he said easily. "I don't guess you'll find it ther'--'less you use trick eyes. Here--say, Peters has given you his story right. I ain't no kick comin' to a word of it. But this thing has more sides to it than you'd fancy. Now, I don't just care a cuss Peters' grazin' two hundred, or five hundred head of stock on my pastures. But if Peters bo't rights an' ken prove it, why, he's the right to sell 'em on to any feller who comes along, which kind o' turns my ranch into common land. Nothin' doin'. No, siree!"
Jeff had abandoned his search of the papers. Nor was he regarding either of the men. His eyes were directed through the lacing of creeper, his gaze concentrated upon the purple vista87 of the hills. His brows were depressed88 with profound thought. Nor were the blue depths of his eyes easy. Peters' whole attention was upon the rancher.
"Now, see right here, Masters," Dug went on, after a deeply considering pause. "I got a story to tell you I'd have liked to hold up, an' the reason I hate handin' it you is jest a sort o' fool sense of honor. Howsum, when folks git gay I can't see you're right to hold your hand. Now, them rights are sold by the law fellers of that widder woman, an', I guess, actin' under her instructions. Now, she knows she don't own no rights to sell. Wal, I allow she's on the crook89."
"Crook?" Jeff's interrogation came swiftly, in a harsh voice utterly90 unlike his own. Then his eyes came round to the face of the rancher. There was something deadly in the steadiness of their regard. "This widow," he said. "Her name is Van Blooren. What is her first name, and the first name of her--husband?"
"Guess her full name's writ92 ther'," he said. "Elvine van Blooren. Sort of queer name, ain't it? It sort o' hit me that way when I first see it. Kind o' good name fer a--crook."
Jeff's eyes dropped to the papers again as Dug gave the other information required.
"The man's name was Robert--Bob. Called hisself when he was here. Y'see, his paw was some swell93 guy who guessed his son had made some darn fool marriage. An' I allow he was wise. Howbe, their names an' sech don't cut no ice."
"No."
Jeff's monosyllable brought Dug's gaze swiftly in his direction. The next moment they were looking squarely into each other's eyes, and, as far as Jeff was concerned, Peters was entirely94 forgotten.
"Will you tell me all you know of--this woman?" Jeff said, after a moment. "I guess it'll be necessary--before we're through."
"Sure. That's how I figgered." A momentary95 tension seemed to have been relaxed. Dug once more settled himself at his ease.
"'Tain't a pretty yarn, when you come to think," he said, his brows contracting under his feelings. "Men are jest men, an' I guess you don't generly expect more'n a stink96 from a skunk97. But with women it's diff'rent. When a feller thinks of women, he thinks of his mother, or sweetheart, or his wife. An' when he thinks that way, why, I don't guess he figgers to find bad wher' he reckoned ther' was only good. Howsum, it kind o' seems to me human nature's as li'ble to set a feller cryin' as laffin' most times. This thing come over that Lightfoot gang. We got most of 'em, and those we got if they wa'an't pumped full of lead out of hand they was hanged. Sort o' queer, too, the way we got 'em. I'd set up a reward. Ten thousand dollars. It was right out o' my own bank roll. Wal, I set it up--the notice o' reward--one night, an' next day got the news we was all yearnin' for. Bob Whitstone, as he called himself, brought it right along to me. I hadn't no use fer the feller up to then. He was weak-kneed. And, in a way, had fallen fer Ju Penrose's rye. He'd come to me once before on the subject o' these all-fired grazin' rights. Y'see, he'd been tryin' to git ahead raisin' wheat in a country where ther' was only a market fer cattle an' rye whisky. Anyway, he cut most o' the wheat racket, an' guessed he'd travel the same road as other folks, an' asked me for permission to graze. I was kind o' sorry about him, an' his good-lookin' wife--both city-raised folk--an' I did as he ast. I said he could graze up to two hundred head. Git a line on that. Them rights was verbal between him an' me to help him out. Ther' wa'an't no sort o' deed, an' he knew it wa'an't no saleable proposition. Wal, when he come along in with his news I set him right through it, an' I allow, before I quit him, I got the notion that fer all his addled98 ways there was a heap to him I hadn't guessed. He started by sayin' he'd located the rustlers, got their camp set in the hills, an' could hand over the whole blamed bunch right away quick. That was elegant. But I ast him how it come he'd on'y located 'em twelve hours after I'd set up a ten thousand dollar reward. Y'see, they'd been rustlin' around fi' years. Wal, to cut a long yarn, I got the whole thing out of him in quick time--he was like a kid in my hands. He hadn't located that camp, he wasn't goin' to touch a cent of them ten thousand. He called it 'blood money,' an' cussed it good an' plenty with an elegant flow. It was his wife. Yes, siree, it was the woman driving the man. She'd located them rustlers by chance only the day before, while he was around Ju's place sousin' rye. When he got home an told her of the reward, she was nigh crazy to git her hands on the dollars. Seems to me ther' must have been a mighty scrap-up. I guess she told him of his ways, an' what he'd brought her to--in a way some women-folk can. I didn't git it all clear. Y'see, he did his best to screen her. Anyways, she made him promise to fix things so she touched those dollars. An' that's why he come to me. Ther's jest one thing stuck in my head so I can't lose it. It was his last words to me about it. He says, says he, see here, Mr. McFarlane, I need one favor out o' you. I want to go with you on this racket, an' if ther's any mercy in the God of Heaven, he'll let me get my dose when the shootin' starts. Effie--that's how he called his wife--wants them dollars, an' you'll see she gets 'em. But for me I just couldn't ever live around a woman who'd handled that blood money! He didn't use them words. They're mine. But it's 'bout how he put it. Wal, when the play was over he'd had his wish. He was dropped plumb99 in his tracks. Then I handed his widder the dollars. She ain't around these parts now so it don't matter handin' you the story of it. Maybe she's married agin. She was some picture woman. But anyway I'd say right here, the woman who could take the price of men's lives would be low enough to bluff72 a boy like Peters here out of his stock of dollars on a play like these rights. An' that's why I reckon this thing's been done on the crook."
He reached round for his glass and took a deep drink in the silence that followed his story. Then, as neither the man who was to arbitrate, nor Peters, attempted to break it, he went on:
"Guess a reward's jest a reward, an' you can't kick at the feller who comes along an' grabs a holt on it. But when a woman, young, a good-looker, an' eddicated, an' refined, gits grabbin', why, it makes you see sulphur an' brimstone, an' horns an' hoofs when your thoughts are full o' buzzin' white wings an' harps100, an' halos an' things. Git me? I guess stealin' dollars out o' a citizen's pocket-book wouldn't be a circumstance to a female of that nature. Say, I ain't got rid o' the stink of it yet, though it happened four years ago."
The man's contempt and loathing101 were intense. He had offered the reward, paid it, he had led the Vigilantes in the hanging. But these things were simply part of the justice of man as he saw it, and rightly administered.
The silent moments slipped by. Jeffrey Masters was sitting erect102 in his chair. A marble coldness seemed to have settled itself upon his keen face. Peters was waiting for that decision he desired. Dug McFarlane, with more understanding, realized that something was wrong. He, too, remained silent, however.
At last Jeff stirred. His gaze shifted. It turned half vaguely103 upon the little man Peters. Then it seemed to drift unmeaningly toward the rancher. A moment later it fell upon the papers he was so tightly gripping. It was then that realization104 seemed to come upon him. He reached out and handed the deeds to their owner. A moment later he was on his feet, and had moved across to the front of the veranda, where he stood, slim, erect, and with his back turned upon the others.
He cleared his throat and spoke in a steady voice.
"I can only hand you a decision on the intention as apart from the legal aspect of the case," he said judicially105. "It's clear to me no saleable rights were given. There was no transaction over them. The widow of this man had no rights to sell. If disinterested106 advice is acceptable I should urge this. It's in view, I guess, of McFarlane's expressed indifference107 to Peters' cattle grazing on his land. Let Peters acknowledge he has no rights. Then let McFarlane enter into an agreement that Peters can run his stock on his land, the right being non-transferable. I should put the whole thing in writing."
"Bully110!" he murmured. Then he added: "But I sort o' feel we both oughter set the law on that--she devil."
"I shouldn't," he said sharply.
Dug caught a glimpse of the desperate light in his eyes.
"Why not?" There was a dash of resentment112 in Peters' tone.
But Jeff was spared a reply. Dug anticipated him with an oath.
"Gol darn you, because she's--a woman!" he cried, with a fierce warmth. "Hell take it you ken have your rights. That's enough, I guess. I'll have the papers wrote, an' have you sign 'em to-morrow. Meanwhile I'm sick to death of the whole blamed thing. I quit right here."
His intention was plain enough. He meant there should be no misunderstanding it. And the little man, Peters, took his dismissal without demur113.
The moment Peters had safely negotiated the saddle and vanished in a cloud of dust, Dug pressed the whisky bottle upon his guest. Jeff almost mechanically accepted it. He gulped114 down a stiff drink of neat spirit. Dug watched him.
Jeff flung himself into his chair without replying.
Dug returned to his seat and gazed out at the yellow and purple afterglow of sunset.
"Say, maybe you'd feel like handin' me the reason you wouldn't set the law on to that--woman?" he went on presently.
The question was by no means idle. It was inspired by the man's genuinely kindly nature. Somehow, he felt that he had been responsible for that which he had seen, still saw, in this man's eyes.
But he was wholly unprepared for the reply forthcoming. It came promptly116. Each word came distinctly, deliberately117, in a voice of bitter coldness. The tragedy of it left the rancher speechless.
"Because I married Elvine van Blooren just over six weeks ago."
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aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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deviates
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| v.偏离，越轨( deviate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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celibate
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| adj.独身的，独身主义的；n.独身者 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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prospect
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transformation
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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arbitration
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grasshopper
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| n.蚱蜢，蝗虫，蚂蚱 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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25
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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26
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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27
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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28
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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29
invective
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| n.痛骂，恶意抨击 | |
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30
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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31
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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32
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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33
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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34
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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35
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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36
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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37
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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38
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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39
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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40
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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41
onlookers
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| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
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42
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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43
flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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44
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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45
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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46
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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47
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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48
hustling
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| 催促（hustle的现在分词形式） | |
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49
ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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50
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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51
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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52
stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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53
raisin
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| n.葡萄干 | |
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54
hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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55
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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56
bum
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| n.臀部；流浪汉，乞丐；vt.乞求，乞讨 | |
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57
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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58
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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59
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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60
shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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61
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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62
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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63
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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65
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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66
friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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67
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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68
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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69
outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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70
graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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71
bluffed
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| 以假象欺骗，吹牛( bluff的过去式和过去分词 )； 以虚张声势找出或达成 | |
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72
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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73
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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74
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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75
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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76
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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77
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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78
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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79
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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80
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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81
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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82
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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83
pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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84
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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85
engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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86
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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87
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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88
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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89
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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90
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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91
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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92
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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93
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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94
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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95
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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96
stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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97
skunk
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| n.臭鼬，黄鼠狼；v.使惨败，使得零分；烂醉如泥 | |
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98
addled
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| adj.（头脑）糊涂的，愚蠢的；（指蛋类）变坏v.使糊涂( addle的过去式和过去分词 )；使混乱；使腐臭；使变质 | |
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99
plumb
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| adv.精确地，完全地；v.了解意义，测水深 | |
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100
harps
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| abbr.harpsichord 拨弦古钢琴n.竖琴( harp的名词复数 ) | |
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101
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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102
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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103
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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104
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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105
judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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106
disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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107
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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108
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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109
beatific
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| adj.快乐的，有福的 | |
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110
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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111
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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112
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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113
demur
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| v．表示异议，反对 | |
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114
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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115
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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116
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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117
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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