Once upon a time there lived on a large plantation1 in Middle Georgia a boy who was known as Little Crotchet. It was a very queer name, to be sure, but it seemed to fit the lad to a T. When he was a wee bit of a chap he fell seriously ill, and when, many weeks afterwards, the doctors said the worst was over, it was found that he had lost the use of his legs, and that he would never be able to run about and play as other children do. When he was told about this he laughed, and said he had known all along that he would never be able to run about on his feet again; but he had plans of his own, and he told his father that he wanted a pair of crutches2 made.
"But you can't use them, my son," said his father.
"Anyhow, I can try," insisted the lad.
The doctors were told of his desire, and these wise men put their heads together.
"It is a crotchet," they declared, "but it will be no harm for him to try."
"It is a little crotchet," said his mother, "and he shall have the crutches."
Thus it came about that the lad got both his name and his crutches, for his father insisted on calling him Little Crotchet after that, and he also insisted on sending all the way to Philadelphia for the crutches. They seemed to be a long time in coming, for in those days they had to be brought to Charleston in a sailing vessel3, and then sent by way of Augusta in a stage-coach; but when they came they were very welcome, for Little Crotchet had been inquiring for them every day in the week, and Sunday too. And yet when they came, strange to say, he seemed to have lost his interest in them. His mother brought them in joyously4, but there was not even a glad smile on the lad's face. He looked at them gravely, weighed them in his hands, laid them across the foot of the bed, and then turned his head on his pillow, as if he wanted to go [3] to sleep. His mother was surprised, and not a little hurt, as mothers will be when they do not understand their children; but she respected his wishes, darkened the room, kissed her boy, and closed the door gently.
When everything was still, Little Crotchet sat up in bed, seized his crutches, and proceeded to try them. He did this every day for a week, and at the end of that time surprised everybody in the house, and on the place as well, by marching out on his crutches, and going from room to room without so much as touching5 his feet to the floor. It seemed to be a most wonderful feat6 to perform, and so it was; but Providence7, in depriving the lad of the use of his legs, had correspondingly strengthened the muscles of his chest and arms, so that within a month he could use his crutches almost as nimbly and quite as safely as other boys use their feet. He could go upstairs and downstairs and walk about the place with as much ease, apparently8, as those not afflicted9, and it was not strange that the negroes regarded the performance with wonder akin10 to awe11, declaring among themselves that their young master was upheld and supported by "de sperits."
[4]
And indeed it was a queer sight to see the frail12 lad going boldly about on crutches, his feet not touching the ground. The sight seemed to make the pet name of Little Crotchet more appropriate than ever. So his name stuck to him, even after he got his Gray Pony13, and became a familiar figure in town and in country, as he went galloping15 about, his crutches strapped16 to the saddle, and dangling17 as gayly as the sword of some fine general. Thus it came to pass that no one was surprised when Little Crotchet went cantering along, his Gray Pony snorting fiercely, and seeming never to tire. Early or late, whenever the neighbors heard the short, sharp snort of the Gray Pony and the rattling18 of the crutches, they would turn to one another and say, "Little Crotchet!" and that would be explanation enough. There seemed to be some sort of understanding between him and his Gray Pony.
Anybody could ride the Gray Pony in the pasture or in the grove20 around the house, but when it came to going out by the big gate, that was another matter. He could neither be led nor driven beyond that boundary by any one except Little Crotchet. It was the same when it came[5] to crossing water. The Gray Pony would not cross over the smallest running brook21 for any one but Little Crotchet; but with the lad on his back he would plunge22 into the deepest stream, and, if need be, swim across it. All this deepened and confirmed in the minds of the negroes the idea that Little Crotchet was upheld and protected by "de sperits." They had heard him talking to the Gray Pony, and they had heard the Gray Pony whinny in reply. They had seen the Gray Pony with their little master on his back go gladly out at the big gate and rush with a snort through the plantation creek,—a bold and at times a dangerous stream. Seeing these things, and knowing the temper of the pony, they had no trouble in coming to the conclusion that something supernatural was behind it all.
II.
Thus it happened that Little Crotchet and his Gray Pony were pretty well known through all the country-side, for it seemed that he was never tired of riding, and that the pony was never tired of going. What was the rider's errand? Nobody knew. Why should he go skimming along [6] the red road at day dawn? And why should he come whirling back at dusk,—a red cloud of dust rising beneath the Gray Pony's feet? Nobody could tell.
This was almost as much of a puzzle to some of the whites as it was to the negroes; but this mystery, if it could be called such, was soon eclipsed by a phenomenon that worried some of the wisest dwellers23 in that region. This phenomenon, apparently very simple, began to manifest itself in early fall, and continued all through that season and during the winter and on through the spring, until warm weather set in. It was in the shape of a thin column of blue smoke that could be seen on any clear morning or late afternoon rising from the centre of Spivey's Canebrake. This place was called a canebrake because a thick, almost impenetrable, growth of canes24 fringed the edge of a mile-wide basin lying between the bluffs25 of the Oconee River and the uplands beyond. Instead of being a canebrake it was a vast swamp, the site of cool but apparently stagnant26 ponds and of treacherous27 quagmires29, in which cows, and even horses, had been known to disappear and perish. The cowitch[7] grew there, and the yellow plumes30 of the poison-oak vine glittered like small torches. There, too, the thunder-wood tree exuded31 its poisonous milk, and long serpent-like vines wound themselves around and through the trees, and helped to shut out the sunlight. It was a swamp, and a very dismal32 one. The night birds gathered there to sleep during the day, and all sorts of creatures that shunned33 the sunlight or hated man found a refuge there. If the negroes had made paths through its recesses34 to enable them to avoid the patrol, nobody knew it but themselves.
Why, then, should a thin but steady stream of blue smoke be constantly rising upwards35 from the centre of Spivey's Canebrake? It was a mystery to those who first discovered it, and it soon grew to be a neighborhood mystery. During the summer the smoke could not be seen, but in the fall and winter its small thin volume went curling upward continually. Little Crotchet often watched it from the brow of Turner's Hill, the highest part of the uplands. Early in the morning or late in the afternoon the vapor36 would rise from the Oconee; but the vapor was white and heavy, and was blown about by the wind, while[8] the smoke in the swamp was blue and thin, and rose straight in the air above the tops of the trees in spite of the wayward winds.
Once when Little Crotchet was sitting on his pony watching the blue smoke rise from the swamp he saw two of the neighbor farmers coming along the highway. They stopped and shook hands with the lad, and then turned to watch the thin stream of blue smoke. The morning was clear and still, and the smoke rose straight in the air, until it seemed to mingle37 with the upper blue. The two farmers were father and son,—Jonathan Gadsby and his son Ben. They were both very well acquainted with Little Crotchet,—as, indeed, everybody in the county was,—and he was so bright and queer that they stood somewhat in awe of him.
"I reckin if I had a pony that wasn't afeard of nothin' I'd go right straight and find out where that fire is, and what it is," remarked Ben Gadsby.
This stirred his father's ire apparently. "Why, Benjamin! Why, what on the face of the earth do you mean? Ride into that swamp! Why, you must have lost what little sense you had when you was born! I remember, jest as well as if it was day before yesterday, when Uncle Jimmy Cosby's red steer38 got in that swamp, and we couldn't git him out. Git him out, did I say? We couldn't even git nigh him. We could hear him beller, but we never got where we could see ha'r nor hide of him. If I was thirty year younger I'd take my foot in my hand and wade39 in there and see where the smoke comes from."
pag8ilo
IT WAS A SWAMP
[9]
Little Crotchet laughed. "If I had two good legs," said he, "I'd soon see what the trouble is."
This awoke Ben Gadsby's ambition. "I believe I'll go in there and see where the fire is."
"Fire!" exclaimed old Mr. Gadsby, with some irritation40. "Who said anything about fire? What living and moving creetur could build a fire in that thicket41? I'd like mighty42 well to lay my eyes on him."
"Well," said Ben Gadsby, "where you see smoke there's obliged to be fire. I've heard you say that yourself."
"Me?" exclaimed Mr. Jonathan Gadsby, with a show of alarm in the midst of his indignation.[10] "Did I say that? Well, it was when I wasn't so much as thinking that my two eyes were my own. What about foxfire? Suppose that some quagmire28 or other in that there swamp has gone and got up a ruction on its own hook? Smoke without fire? Why, I've seed it many a time. And maybe that smoke comes from an eruption43 in the ground. What then? Who's going to know where the fire is?"
Little Crotchet laughed, but Ben Gadsby put on a very bold front. "Well," said he, "I can find bee-trees, and I'll find where that fire is."
"Well, sir," remarked Mr. Jonathan Gadsby, looking at his son with an air of pride, "find out where the smoke comes from, and we'll not expect you to see the fire."
"I wish I could go with you," said Little Crotchet.
"I don't need any company," replied Ben Gadsby. "I've done made up my mind, and I a-going to show the folks around here that where there's so much smoke there's obliged to be some fire."
The young man, knowing that he had some warm work before him, pulled off his coat, and[11] tied the sleeves over his shoulder, sash fashion. Then he waved his hand to his father and to Little Crotchet, and went rapidly down the hill. He had undertaken the adventure in a spirit of bravado44. He knew that a number of the neighbors had tried to solve the mystery of the smoke in the swamp and had failed. He thought, too, that he would fail; and yet he was urged on by the belief that if he should happen to succeed, all the boys and all the girls in the neighborhood would regard him as a wonderful young man. He had the same ambition that animated45 the knight46 of old, but on a smaller scale.
III.
Now it chanced that Little Crotchet himself was on his way to the smoke in the swamp. He had been watching it, and wondering whether he should go to it by the path he knew, or whether he should go by the road that Aaron, the runaway47, had told him of. Ben Gadsby interfered48 with his plans somewhat; for quite by accident, young Gadsby as he went down the hill struck into the path that Little Crotchet knew. There was a chance to gallop14 along the brow of the hill,[12] turn to the left, plunge through a shallow lagoon49, and strike into the path ahead of Gadsby, and this chance Little Crotchet took. He waved his hand to Mr. Jonathan Gadsby, gave the Gray Pony the rein50, and went galloping through the underbrush, his crutches rattling, and the rings of the bridle-bit jingling51. To Mr. Jonathan Gadsby it seemed that the lad was riding recklessly, and he groaned52 and shook his head as he turned and went on his way.
But Little Crotchet rode on. Turning sharply to the left as soon as he got out of sight, he went plunging53 through the lagoon, and was soon going along the blind path a quarter of a mile ahead of Ben Gadsby. This is why young Gadsby was so much disturbed that he lost his way. He was bold enough when he started out, but by the time he had descended54 the hill and struck into what he thought was a cattle-path his courage began to fail him. The tall canes seemed to bend above him in a threatening manner. The silence oppressed him. Everything was so still that the echo of his own movements as he brushed along the narrow path seemed to develop into ominous55 whispers, as if all the goblins he had ever heard[13] of had congregated56 in front of him to bar his way.
The silence, with its strange echoes, was bad enough, but when he heard the snorting of Little Crotchet's Gray Pony as it plunged57 through the lagoon, the rattle58 of the crutches and the jingling of the bridle-bit, he fell into a panic. What great beast could it be that went helter-skelter through this dark and silent swamp, swimming through the water and tearing through the quagmires? And yet, when Ben Gadsby would have turned back, the rank undergrowth and the trailing vines had quite obscured the track. The fear that impelled59 him to retrace60 his steps was equally powerful in impelling61 him to go forward. And this seemed the easiest plan. He felt that it would be just as safe to go on, having once made the venture, as to turn back. He had a presentiment62 that he would never find his way out anyhow, and the panic he was in nerved him to the point of desperation.
So on he went, not always trying to follow the path, but plunging forward aimlessly. In half an hour he was calmer, and pretty soon he found the ground firm under his feet. His instincts as [14] a bee-hunter came back to him. He had started in from the east side, and he paused to take his bearings. But it was hard to see the sun, and in the recesses of the swamp the mosses63 grew on all sides of the trees. And yet there was a difference, which Ben Gadsby did not fail to discover and take account of. They grew thicker and larger on the north side, and remembering this, he went forward with more confidence.
He found that the middle of the swamp was comparatively dry. Huge poplar-trees stood ranged about, the largest he had ever seen. In the midst of a group of trees he found one that was hollow, and in this hollow he found the smouldering embers of a fire. But for the strange silence that surrounded him he would have given a whoop64 of triumph; but he restrained himself. Bee-hunter that he was, he took his coat from his shoulders and tied it around a small slim sapling standing19 near the big poplar where he had found the fire. It was his way when he found a bee-tree. It was a sort of guide. In returning he would take the general direction, and then hunt about until he found his coat; and it was much easier to find a tree tagged with a coat than it was to find one not similarly marked.
[15]
Thus, instead of whooping65 triumphantly66, Ben Gadsby simply tied his coat about the nearest sapling, nodding his head significantly as he did so. He had unearthed67 the secret and unraveled the mystery, and now he would go and call in such of the neighbors as were near at hand and show them what a simple thing the great mystery was. He knew that he had found the hiding-place of Aaron, the runaway. So he fixed68 his "landmark," and started out of the swamp with a lighter69 heart than he had when he came in.
To make sure of his latitude70 and longitude71, he turned in his tracks when he had gone a little distance and looked for the tree on which he had tied his coat. But it was not to be seen. He re-traced his steps, trying to find his coat. Looking about him cautiously, he saw the garment after a while, but it was in an entirely72 different direction from what he supposed it would be. It was tied to a sapling, and the sapling was near a big poplar. To satisfy himself, he returned to make a closer examination. Sure enough, there was the coat, but the poplar close by was not a hollow poplar, nor was it as large as the tree in which Ben Gadsby had found the smouldering embers of a fire.
[16]
He sat on the trunk of a fallen tree and scratched his head, and discussed the matter in his mind the best he could. Finally he concluded that it would be a very easy matter, after he found his coat again, to find the hollow poplar. So he started home again. But he had not gone far when he turned around to take another view of his coat.
It had disappeared. Ben Gadsby looked carefully around, and then a feeling of terror crept over his whole body—a feeling that nearly paralyzed his limbs. He tried to overcome this feeling, and did so to a certain degree. He plucked up sufficient courage to return and try to find his coat; but the task was indeed bewildering. He thought he had never seen so many large poplars with small slim saplings standing near them, and then he began to wander around almost aimlessly.
IV.
Suddenly he heard a scream that almost paralyzed him—a scream that was followed by the sound of a struggle going on in the thick undergrowth close at hand. He could see the muddy water splash above the bushes, and he could hear[17] fierce growlings and gruntings. Before he could make up his mind what to do, a gigantic mulatto, with torn clothes and staring eyes, rushed out of the swamp and came rushing by, closely pursued by a big white boar with open mouth and fierce cries. The white boar was right at the mulatto's heels, and his yellow tusks74 gleamed viciously as he ran with open mouth. Pursuer and pursued disappeared in the bushes with a splash and a crash, and then all was as still as before. In fact, the silence seemed profounder for this uncanny and appalling75 disturbance76. It was so unnatural77 that half a minute after it happened Ben Gadsby was not certain whether it had occurred at all. He was a pretty bold youth, having been used to the woods and fields all his life, but he had now beheld78 a spectacle so out of the ordinary, and of so startling a character, that he made haste to get out of the swamp as fast as his legs, weakened by fear, would carry him.
More than once, as he made his way out of the swamp, he paused to listen; and it seemed that each time he paused an owl73, or some other bird of noiseless wing, made a sudden swoop79 at his head. Beyond the exclamation80 he made when[18] this happened the silence was unbroken. This experience was unusual enough to hasten his steps, even if he had had no other motive81 for haste.
When nearly out of the swamp, he came upon a large poplar, by the side of which a small slim sapling was growing. Tied around this sapling was his coat, which he thought he had left in the middle of the swamp. The sight almost took his breath away.
He examined the coat carefully, and found that the sleeves were tied around the tree just as he had tied them. He felt in the pockets. Everything was just as he had left it. He examined the poplar; it was hollow, and in the hollow was a pile of ashes.
"Well!" exclaimed Ben Gadsby. "I'm the biggest fool that ever walked the earth. If I ain't been asleep and dreamed all this, I'm crazy; and if I've been asleep, I'm a fool."
His experience had been so queer and so confusing that he promised himself he'd never tell it where any of the older people could hear it, for he knew that they would not only treat his tale with scorn and contempt, but would make him the butt82 of ridicule83 among the younger folks. "I[19] know exactly what they'd say," he remarked to himself. "They'd declare that a skeer'd hog84 run across my path, and that I was skeer'der than the hog."
So Ben Gadsby took his coat from the sapling, and went trudging85 along his way toward the big road. When he reached that point he turned and looked toward the swamp. Much to his surprise, the stream of blue smoke was still flowing upward. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but there was the smoke. His surprise was still greater when he saw Little Crotchet and the Gray Pony come ambling86 up the hill in the path he had just come over.
"Nothing—nothing at all," replied Ben Gadsby, determined88 not to commit himself.
"Nothing?" cried Little Crotchet. "Well, you ought to have been with me! Why, I saw sights! The birds flew in my face, and when I got in the middle of the swamp a big white hog came rushing out, and if this Gray Pony hadn't been the nimblest of his kind, you'd never have seen me any more."
[20]
"Is that so?" asked Ben Gadsby, in a dazed way. "Well, I declare! 'Twas all quiet with me. I just went in and come out again, and that's all there is to it."
"I wish I'd been with you," said Little Crotchet, with a curious laugh. "Good-by!"
With that he wheeled the Gray Pony and rode off home. Ben Gadsby watched Little Crotchet out of sight, and then, with a gesture of despair, surprise, or indignation, flung his coat on the ground, crying, "Well, by jing!"
V.
That night there was so much laughter in the top story of the Abercrombie house that the Colonel himself came to the foot of the stairs and called out to know what the matter was.
"It's nobody but me," replied Little Crotchet. "I was just laughing."
Colonel Abercrombie paused, as if waiting for some further explanation, but hearing none, said, "Good-night, my son, and God bless you!"
"Good-night, father dear," exclaimed the lad, flinging a kiss at the shadow his father's candle flung on the wall. Then he turned again into[21] his own room, where Aaron the Arab (son of Ben Ali) sat leaning against the wall, as silent and as impassive as a block of tawny89 marble.
Little Crotchet lay back in his bed, and the two were silent for a time. Finally Aaron said:—
"The White Grunter carried his play too far. He nipped a piece from my leg."
"I never saw anything like it," remarked little Crotchet. "I thought the White Pig was angry. You did that to frighten Ben Gadsby."
"Yes, Little Master," responded Aaron, "and I'm thinking the young man will never hunt for the smoke in the swamp any more."
Little Crotchet laughed again, as he remembered how Ben Gadsby looked as Aaron and the White Pig went careening across the dry place in the swamp. There was a silence again, and then Aaron said he must be going.
"And when are you going home to your master?" Little Crotchet asked.
"Never!" replied Aaron the runaway, with emphasis. "Never! He is no master of mine. He is a bad man."
Then he undressed Little Crotchet, tucked the cover about him,—for the nights were growing[22] chill,—whispered good-night, and slipped from the window, letting down the sash gently as he went out. If any one had been watching, he would have seen the tall Arab steal along the roof until he came to the limb of an oak that touched the eaves. Along this he went nimbly, glided90 down the trunk to the ground, and disappeared in the darkness.
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1
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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crutches
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| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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dwellers
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| n.居民，居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
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canes
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| n.（某些植物，如竹或甘蔗的）茎( cane的名词复数 )；（用于制作家具等的）竹竿；竹杖 | |
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bluffs
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| 恐吓( bluff的名词复数 )； 悬崖； 峭壁 | |
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stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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quagmire
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quagmires
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| n.沼泽地，泥潭( quagmire的名词复数 ) | |
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plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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exuded
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| v.缓慢流出，渗出，分泌出( exude的过去式和过去分词 )；流露出对（某物）的神态或感情 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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shunned
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recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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eruption
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| n.火山爆发；（战争等）爆发；（疾病等）发作 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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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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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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impelling
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| adj.迫使性的，强有力的v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的现在分词 ) | |
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presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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whooping
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| 发嗬嗬声的，发咳声的 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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unearthed
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| 出土的（考古） | |
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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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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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latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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longitude
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| n.经线，经度 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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tusks
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| n.（象等动物的）长牙( tusk的名词复数 )；獠牙；尖形物；尖头 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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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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swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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84
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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trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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86
ambling
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的现在分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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