Although constitutionally brave, the boy felt an unpleasant sensation of some sort as he contemplated8 the inevitable9 crash that awaited him; for, even if the horse should perceive his folly10 and try to stop on reaching the bank, the tremendous pace attained11 would render the attempt futile12.
“Stop! won’t you? Wo-o-o!” cried Tolly, straining at the reins13 till the veins14 of his neck and forehead seemed about to burst.
But the horse would neither “stop” nor “wo-o-o!” It was otherwise, however, with the pony16. That amiable17 creature had been trained well, and had learned obedience18. Blessed quality! Would that the human race—especially its juvenile19 section—understood better the value of that inestimable virtue20! The pony began to pull back at the sound of “wo!” Its portion in childhood had probably been woe21 when it refused to recognise the order. The result was that poor Tolly’s right arm, over which was thrown the pony’s rein, had to bear the strain of conflicting opinions.
A bright idea struck his mind at this moment. Bright ideas always do strike the mind of genius at critical moments! He grasped both the reins of his steed in his right hand, and took a sudden turn of them round his wrist. Then he turned about—not an instant too soon—looked the pony straight in the face, and said “Wo!” in a voice of command that was irresistible22. The pony stopped at once, stuck out its fore15 legs, and was absolutely dragged a short way over the ground. The strain on Tolly’s arm was awful, but the arm was a stout23 one, though small. It stood the strain, and the obstinate24 runaway25 was arrested on the brink26 of destruction with an almost broken jaw27.
The boy slipped to the ground and hastily fastened the steeds to a tree. Even in that hour of supreme28 anxiety he could not help felicitating himself on the successful application of pony docility29 to horsey self-will.
But these and all other feelings of humour and satisfaction were speedily put to flight when, after crossing the remains30 of the plank31 bridge with some difficulty, he stood before the hideous32 wreck33 of his friend’s late home, where he had spent so many glad hours listening to marvellous adventures from Paul Bevan, or learning how to read and cipher34, as well as drinking in wisdom generally, from the Rose of Oregon.
It was an awful collapse35. A yawning gulf36 had been driven into the earth, and the hut—originally a solid structure—having been hurled37 bodily skyward, shattered to atoms, and inextricably mixed in its parts, had come down again into the gulf as into a ready-made grave.
It would be vain to search for any sort of letter, sign, or communication from his friends among the débris. Tolly felt that at once, yet he could not think of leaving without a search. After one deep and prolonged sigh he threw off his lethargy, and began a close inspection38 of the surroundings.
“You see,” he muttered to himself, as he moved quickly yet stealthily about, “they’d never have gone off without leavin’ some scrap39 of information for me, to tell me which way they’d gone, even though they’d gone off in a lightnin’ hurry. But p’raps they didn’t. The reptiles40 may have comed on ’em unawares, an’ left ’em no time to do anything. Of course they can’t have killed ’em. Nobody ever could catch Paul Bevan asleep—no, not the sharpest redskin in the land. That’s quite out o’ the question.”
Though out of the question, however, the bare thought of such a catastrophe41 caused little Trevor’s under lip to tremble, a mist to obscure his vision, and a something-or-other to fill his throat, which he had to swallow with a gulp42. Moreover, he went back to the ruined hut and began to pull about the wreck with a fluttering heart, lest he should come on some evidence that his friends had been murdered. Then he went to the highest part of the rock to rest a little, and consider what had best be done next.
While seated there, gazing on the scene of silent desolation, which the pale moonlight rendered more ghastly, the poor boy’s spirit failed him a little. He buried his face in his hands and burst into tears.
Soon this weakness, as he deemed it, passed away. He dried his eyes, roughly, and rose to resume his search, and it is more than probable that he would ere long have bethought him of the cave where Betty had left her note, if his attention had not been suddenly arrested by a faint glimmer43 of ruddy light in a distant part of the forest. The robbers were stirring up their fires, and sending a tell-tale glow into the sky.
“O-ho!” exclaimed Tolly Trevor.
He said nothing more, but there was a depth of meaning in the tone and look accompanying that “O-ho!” which baffles description.
Tightening44 his belt, he at once glided45 down the slope, flitted across the rivulet, skimmed over the open space, and melted into the forest after the most approved method of Red Indian tactics.
The expedition from which he had just returned having been peaceful, little Trevor carried no warlike weapons—for the long bowie-knife at his side, and the little hatchet46 stuck in his girdle, were, so to speak, merely domestic implements47, without which he never moved abroad. But as war was not his object, the want of rifle and revolver mattered little. He soon reached the neighbourhood of the robbers’ fire, and, when close enough to render extreme caution necessary, threw himself flat on the ground and advanced à la “snake-in-the-grass.”
Presently he came within earshot, and listened attentively48, though without much interest, to a deal of boastful small talk with which the marauders beguiled49 the time, while they fumigated50 their mouths and noses preparatory to turning in for the night.
At last the name of Paul Bevan smote51 his ear, causing it, metaphorically52, to go on full cock.
“I’m sartin sure,” said one of the speakers, “that the old screw has gone right away to Simpson’s Gully.”
“If I thought that, I’d follow him up, and make a dash at the Gully itself,” said Stalker, plucking a burning stick from the fire to rekindle53 his pipe.
“If you did you’d get wopped,” remarked Goff, with a touch of sarcasm54, for the lieutenant55 of the band was not so respectful to his commander as a well-disciplined man should be.
“What makes you think so?” demanded the chief.
“The fact that the diggers are a sight too many for us,” returned Goff. “Why, we’d find ’em three to one, if not four.”
“Well, that, coupled with the uncertainty56 of his having gone to Simpson’s Gully,” said the chief, “decides me to make tracks down south to the big woods on the slopes of the Sawback Hills. There are plenty of parties travelling thereabouts with lots of gold, boys, and difficulties enough in the way of hunting us out o’ the stronghold. I’ll leave you there for a short time and make a private excursion to Simpson’s Gully, to see if my enemy an’ the beautiful Betty are there.”
“An’ get yourself shot or stuck for your pains,” said Goff. “Do you suppose that such a hulking, long-legged fellow as you are, can creep into a camp like an or’nary man without drawin’ attention?”
“Perhaps not,” returned Stalker; “but are there not such things as disguises? Have you not seen me with my shootin’-coat and botanical box an’ blue spectacles, an’ my naturally sandy hair.”
“No, no, captain!” cried Goff, with a laugh, “not sandy; say yellow, or golden.”
“Well, golden, then, if you will. You’ve seen it dyed black, haven’t you?”
“Oh yes! I’ve seen you in these humblin’ circumstances before now,” returned the lieutenant, “and I must say your own mother wouldn’t know you. But what’s the use o’ runnin’ the risk, captain?”
“Because I owe Bevan a grudge57!” said the chief, sternly, “and mean to be revenged on him. Besides, I want the sweet Betty for a wife, and intend to have her, whether she will or no. She’ll make a capital bandit’s wife—after a little while, when she gets used to the life. So now you know some of my plans, and you shall see whether the hulking botanist58 won’t carry all before him.”
“O-ho!” muttered the snake-in-the-grass, very softly; and there was something so compound and significant in the tone of that second “O-ho!” soft though it was, that it not only baffles description, but—really, you know, it would be an insult to your understanding, good reader, to say more in the way of explanation! There was also a heaving of the snake’s shoulders, which, although unaccompanied by sound, was eminently59 suggestive.
Feeling that he had by that time heard quite enough, Tolly Trevor effected a masterly retreat, and returned to the place where he had left the horses. On the way he recalled with satisfaction the fact that Paul Bevan had once pointed60 out to him the exact direction of Simpson’s Gully at a time when he meant to send him on an errand thither61. “You’ve on’y to go over there, lad,” Paul had said, pointing towards the forest in rear of his hut, “and hold on for two days straight as the crow flies till you come to it. You can’t well miss it.”
Tolly knew that there was also an easier though longer route by the plains, but as he was not sure of it he made up his mind to take to the forest.
The boy was sufficiently62 trained in woodcraft to feel pretty confident of finding his way, for he knew the north side of trees by their bark, and could find out the north star when the sky was clear, besides possessing a sort of natural aptitude63 for holding on in a straight line. He mounted the obstinate horse, therefore, took the rein of the obedient pony on his right arm, and, casting a last look of profound regret on Bevan’s desolated64 homestead, rode swiftly away. So eager was he that he took no thought for the morrow. He knew that the wallet slung65 at his saddle-bow contained a small supply of food—as much, probably, as would last three days with care. That was enough to render Tolly Trevor the most independent and careless youth in Oregon.
While these events were occurring in the neighbourhood of Bevan’s Gully, three red men, in all the glory of vermilion, charcoal66, and feathers, were stalking through the forest in the vicinity of the spot where poor Tom Brixton had laid him down to die. These children of the wilderness67 stalked in single file—from habit we presume, for there was ample space for them to have walked abreast68 if so inclined. They seemed to be unsociable beings, for they also stalked in solemn silence.
Suddenly the first savage69 came to an abrupt70 pause, and said, “Ho!” the second savage said, “He!” and the third said, “Hi!” After which, for full a minute, they stared at the ground in silent wonder and said nothing. They had seen a footprint! It did not by any means resemble that deep, well developed, and very solitary71 footprint at which Robinson Crusoe is wont72 to stare in nursery picture-books. No; it was a print which was totally invisible to ordinary eyes, and revealed itself to these children of the woods in the form of a turned leaf and a cracked twig73. Such as it was, it revealed a track which the three children followed up until they found Tom Brixton—or his body—lying on the ground near to the little spring.
Again these children said, “Ho!” “He!” and “Hi!” respectively, in varying tones according to their varied74 character. Then they commenced a jabber75, which we are quite unable to translate, and turned Tom over on his back. The motion awoke him, for he sat up and stared.
Even that effort proved too much for him in his weak state, for he fell back and fainted.
The Indians proved to be men of promptitude. They lifted the white man up; one got Tom’s shoulders on his back, another put his legs over his shoulders, and thus they stalked away with him. When the first child of the wood grew tired, the unburdened one stepped in to his relief; when the second child grew tired, the first one went to his aid; when all the children grew tired, they laid their burden on the ground and sat down beside it. Thus, by easy stages, was Tom Brixton conveyed away from the spot where he had given himself up as hopelessly lost.
Now, it could not have been more than six hours after Tom had thus been borne away that poor Tolly Trevor came upon the same scene. We say “poor” advisedly, for he had not only suffered the loss of much fragmentary clothing in his passage through that tangled76 wood, but also most of the food with which he had started, and a good deal of skin from his shins, elbows, knuckles77, and knees, as well as the greater part of his patience. Truly, he was in a pitiable plight78, for the forest had turned out to be almost impassable for horses, and in his journey he had not only fallen off, and been swept out of the saddle by overhanging branches frequently, but had to swim swamps, cross torrents79, climb precipitous banks, and had stuck in quagmires80 innumerable.
As for the horses—their previous owner could not have recognised them. It is true they were what is styled “all there,” but there was an inexpressible droop81 of their heads and tails, a weary languor82 in their eyes, and an abject83 waggle about their knees which told of hope deferred84 and spirit utterly85 gone. The pony was the better of the two. Its sprightly86 glance of amiability87 had changed into a gaze of humble88 resignation, whereas the aspect of the obstinate horse was one of impotent ill-nature. It would have bitten, perhaps, if strength had permitted, but as to its running away—ha!
Well, Tolly Trevor approached—it could hardly be said he rode up to—the spring before mentioned, where he passed the footprints in stupid blindness.
He dismounted, however, to drink and rest a while.
“Come on—you brute89!” he cried, almost savagely90, dragging the horse to the water.
The creature lowered its head and gazed as though to say, “What liquid is that?”
As the pony, however, at once took a long and hearty91 draught92 it also condescended93 to drink, while Tolly followed suit. Afterwards he left the animals to graze, and sat down under a neighbouring tree to rest and swallow his last morsel94 of food.
It was sad to see the way in which the poor boy carefully shook out and gathered up the few crumbs95 in his wallet so that not one of them should be lost; and how slowly he ate them, as if to prolong the sensation of being gratified! During the two days which he had spent in the forest his face had grown perceptibly thinner, and his strength had certainly diminished. Even the reckless look of defiant96 joviality97, which was one of the boy’s chief characteristics, had given place to a restless anxiety that prevented his seeing humour in anything, and induced a feeling of impatience98 when a joke chanced irresistibly99 to bubble up in his mind. He was once again reduced almost to the weeping point, but his sensations were somewhat different for, when he had stood gazing at the wreck of Bevan’s home, the nether100 lip had trembled because of the sorrows of friends, whereas now he was sorrowing because of an exhausted101 nature, a weakened heart, and a sinking spirit. But the spirit had not yet utterly given way!
“Come!” he cried, starting up. “This won’t do, Tolly. Be a man! Why, only think—you have got over two days and two nights. That was the time allowed you by Paul, so your journey’s all but done—must be. Of course those brutes—forgive me, pony, that brute, I mean—has made me go much slower than if I had come on my own legs, but notwithstanding, it cannot be—hallo! what’s that!”
The exclamation102 had reference to a small dark object which lay a few yards from the spot on which he sat. He ran and picked it up. It was Tom Brixton’s cap—with his name rudely written on the lining103. Beside it lay a piece of bark on which was pencil-writing.
With eager, anxious haste the boy began to peruse104 it, but he was unaccustomed to read handwriting, and when poor Tom had pencilled the lines his hand was weak and his brain confused, so that the characters were doubly difficult to decipher. After much and prolonged effort the boy made out the beginning. It ran thus:
“This is probably the last letter that I, Tom Brixton, shall ever write. (I put down my name now, in case I never finish it.) O dearest mother!—”
Emotion had no doubt rendered the hand less steady at this point, for here the words were quite illegible—at least to little Trevor—who finally gave up the attempt in despair. The effect of this discovery, however, was to send the young blood coursing wildly through the veins, so that a great measure of strength returned, as if by magic.
The boy’s first care was naturally to look for traces of the lost man, and he set about this with a dull fear at his heart, lest at any moment he should come upon the dead body of his friend. In a few minutes he discovered the track made by the Indians, which led him to the spot near to the spring where Tom had fallen. To his now fully-awakened senses Trevor easily read the story, as far as signs could tell it.
Brixton had been all but starved to death. He had lain down under a tree to die—the very tree under which he himself had so recently given way to despair. While lying there he—Brixton—had scrawled105 his last words on the bit of birch-bark. Then he had tried to reach the spring, but had fainted either before reaching it or after leaving. This he knew, because the mark of Tom’s coat, part of his waist-belt and the handle of his bowie-knife were all impressed on the softish ground with sufficient distinctness to be discerned by a sharp eye. The moccasined footprints told of Indians having found Brixton—still alive, for they would not have taken the trouble to carry him off if he had been dead. The various sizes of the moccasined feet told that the party of Indians numbered three; and the trail of the red men, with its occasional halting-places, pointed out clearly the direction in which they had gone. Happily this was also the direction in which little Trevor was going.
Of course the boy did not read this off as readily as we have written it all down. It cost him upwards106 of an hour’s patient research; but when at last he did arrive at the result of his studies he wasted no time in idle speculation107. His first duty was to reach Simpson’s Gully, discover his friend Paul Bevan, and deliver to him the piece of birch-bark he had found, and the information he had gleaned108.
By the time Tolly had come to this conclusion his horse and pony had obtained both rest and nourishment109 enough to enable them to raise their drooping110 heads and tails an inch or two, so that when the boy mounted the former with some of his old dash and energy, it shook its head, gave a short snort, and went off at a fair trot111.
Fortunately the ground improved just beyond this point, opening out into park-like scenery, which, in another mile or two, ran into level prairie land. This Trevor knew from description was close to the mountain range, in which lay the gully he was in quest of. The hope which had begun to rise increased, and communicating itself, probably by sympathetic electricity, to the horse, produced a shuffling112 gallop4, which ere long brought them to a clump113 of wood. On rounding this they came in sight of the longed-for hills.
Before nightfall Simpson’s Gully was reached, and little Trevor was directed to the tent of Paul Bevan, who had arrived there only the day before.
“It’s a strange story, lad,” said Paul, after the boy had run rapidly over the chief points of the news he had to give, to which Betty, Fred, and Flinders sat listening with eager interest.
“We must be off to search for him without delay,” said Fred Westly, rising.
“It’s right ye are, sor,” cried Flinders, springing up. “Off to-night an’ not a moment to lose.”
“We’ll talk it over first, boys,” said Paul. “Come with me. I’ve a friend in the camp as’ll help us.”
“Did you not bring the piece of bark?” asked Betty of the boy, as the men went out.
“Oh! I forgot. Of course I did,” cried Trevor, drawing it from his breast-pocket. “The truth is I’m so knocked up that I scarce know what I’m about.”
“Lie down here on this deer-skin, poor boy, and rest while I read it.”
Tolly Trevor flung himself on the rude but welcome couch, and almost instantly fell asleep, while Betty Bevan, spreading the piece of birch-bark on her knee, began to spell out the words and try to make sense of Tom Brixton’s last epistle.
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1
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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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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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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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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rivulet
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| n.小溪，小河 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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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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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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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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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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docility
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| n.容易教，易驾驶，驯服 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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cipher
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| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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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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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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45
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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46
hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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47
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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49
beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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50
fumigated
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| v.用化学品熏（某物）消毒( fumigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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52
metaphorically
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| adv. 用比喻地 | |
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53
rekindle
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| v.使再振作；再点火 | |
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54
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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56
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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57
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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58
botanist
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| n.植物学家 | |
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59
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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62
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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63
aptitude
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| n.(学习方面的)才能，资质，天资 | |
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desolated
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| adj.荒凉的，荒废的 | |
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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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66
charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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67
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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73
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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jabber
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| v.快而不清楚地说；n.吱吱喳喳 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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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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droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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95
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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97
joviality
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| n.快活 | |
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98
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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99
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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100
nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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101
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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102
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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103
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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104
peruse
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| v.细读，精读 | |
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105
scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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107
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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108
gleaned
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| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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109
nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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110
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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111
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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112
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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113
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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