We halted an hour after sunset, under a sand hill about 16 miles distant from the creek, without having succeeded in our search for water, for although we passed several muddy pools at which the birds still continued to drink they were too thick for our animals.
The prospect7 from the top of the sand hill under which we had formed our bivouac, was the most cheerless and I may add the most forbidding of any that our eyes had wandered over, during this long and anxious journey. To the west and north-west there were lines of heavy sand ridges8, so steep and rugged10 as to deter11 me from any attempt to cross them with my jaded12 horses. To the north and north-east a dark green plain covered with samphire bushes (amidst which the dry beds of small salt lagoons13, as white as snow, formed a singular and striking contrast) was to be seen extending for about eight miles. This plain was bounded by distant hills, the bright red tops of which gleamed, even in the twilight15. I was here really puzzled what course to pursue, one only indeed was open to me — the north — unless I should determine to fall back on the creek; but I thought it better to advance, in the hope of being able to maintain my ground, and with the intention of halting for a few days at the first favourable16 point at which we should arrive, for my mind was filled with anxiety. It had pained me for some time, to see Mr. Browne daily suffering more and more, and although he continued to render me the most valuable assistance, a gloom hung over him; he seldom spoke17, his hands were constantly behind him, pressing or supporting his back, and he appeared unfit to ride. My men were also beginning to feel the effects of constant exposure, of ceaseless journeying, and of poverty of food, for all we had was 5 lbs. of flour and 2 oz. of tea per week; it is true we occasionally shot a pigeon or a duck, but the wildness of the birds of all kinds was perfectly18 unaccountable. The horses living chiefly on pulpy19 vegetation had little stamina20, and were incapable21 of enduring much privation or hardship. No rain had fallen since July, nor was there any present indication of a change. Much as I desired it, I yet dreaded22 having to traverse such a country as that into which I was now about to plunge23, in a wet state. With a soil of stiff tenacious24 clay, already soft from the moisture produced by the mixture of salt in it, I foresaw that in the event of heavy rain, I should be involved in almost inextricable difficulties, but there was no alternative.
On the morning of the 7th I sent Mr. Browne to the westward25, to ascertain26 the nature of the country, and if by any chance he could again find the creek, and in case I had inadvertently mistaken the real creek for a tributary27, I myself pushed on to the north, in the hope of intersecting it. Mr. Browne had not, however, been absent more than three-quarters of an hour, when he returned to inform me that he had been stopped by a salt creek, coming direct from the north, the bed of which was too soft for him to cross. He said that its channel was white as snow, and that every reed and blade of grass on its banks, was encrusted with salt. Under an impression that as long as I should continue in the neighbourhood of, and on a course nearly parallel to this creek, I could not hope for any favourable change, I decided28 on crossing it, and with that view turned to the west; but finding the bed of the creek still too soft to admit of our doing so, I traced it upwards29 to the north, along a sandy ridge9.
As Mr. Browne had informed me, its channel was glittering white, and thickly encrusted with salt, nor was there any water visible, but on going down to examine it in several places where the salt had the appearance of broken and rotten ice, we found that there were deep pools of perfect brine underneath30, on which the salt floated, to the thickness of three or four inches. The marks of flood on the side of the sand hill shewed a rise of 12 feet above its ordinary level. At about a mile and a half we descended31 the sand hill on which we had previously32 kept, and ascended33 another, when we saw the basin of the creek immediately below us, but quite dry, and surrounded by sand hills. Crossing just below it, we proceeded on a course of 331 degrees over extensive plains, covered with samphire, excepting where the beds of dry salt lagoons occurred. The ground was spongy and soft, and the cart wheels consequently sank deep into it. The plain was surrounded on all sides by sand hills, and that towards which we were advancing appeared to run athwart our course instead of nearly parallel to it as heretofore. On gaining the summit, we found that other ridges extended from it in parallel lines, the ridge on which we stood forming the head of the respective valleys. A line of acacia, a species we had never found near water, was growing down the centre of each, and the fall of the country seemed again to be to the N.N.W.
Pushing down one of the valleys, the descent of which was very gradual, and keeping on such clear ground as there was, the ridges rose higher and higher on either side of us as we advanced, all grass and other vegetation disappeared, and at length both valley and sand ridge became thickly coated with spinifex.
At noon I halted, in the hope of obtaining a meridian34 altitude, but was disappointed, as also at night, the sky continuing obscured. At half-past two I pulled up, to consider whether or not it would be prudent35 to push on any farther. I calculated that we were now 34 miles from the creek, our only place of refuge. The horses had not tasted water from the early part of the day before, and we could not reasonably expect to get back to the salt lagoon14 under a day and a half. Our poor animals were not in a condition to endure much fatigue36, although by going on steadily37 we had managed to get over a good deal of ground. It is, however, probable that I should not have had much consideration for them on this occasion, if other matters had not weighed on my mind and influenced my decision. My men were all three unwell, and had been so for some days prior to this, and Mr. Browne’s sufferings were such that I hesitated subjecting him to exertions38 greater than those he was necessarily obliged to submit to, and by which I felt assured he would ultimately be overcome. The treacherous39 character of the disease by which he had been attacked was well understood. I had no hope of any improvement in his condition until such time as he could procure40 change of food. So far from this I dreaded every day that he might be laid prostrate41 as Mr. Poole had been, that I should have to carry him about in a state of helplessness, and that he would ultimately sink as his unfortunate companion had done. Had other considerations, therefore, not influenced me, I could not make up my mind to persevere42, and see my only remaining companion perish at my side, and that, too, under the most trying, I had almost said the most appalling43 circumstances, for no one who has not seen the scurvy44 in its worst character can form an idea of it. I could not run the risk of being obliged to lay and leave one, in that gloomy desert, whose attention and kindness to me had been uniform, and whose life I knew was valuable to very many. The time has now passed, and I thank God that Mr. Browne, who embarked45 in this expedition in reliance on my discretion46, is now restored to health and strength; but although he has regained47 his elasticity48 of spirits, and would, I have no doubt, again encounter even the same risks, he will yet remember Central Australia, and all that both of us there suffered.
The question for me however was, how far I should be justified49 in pushing forward under the almost certainty of inextricable embarrassment50. I was now within reach of water, but another fifteen miles would have put it out of my reach; and though I felt I had the power, I did not see the advantage of perseverance51, with so many difficulties staring me in the face. Our distance from the creek may appear to be short; but it will be borne in mind that our horses had now been more than a year living upon dry grass and salsolaceous plants; that from the time of our leaving the Depot52, they had been ridden from sunrise to sunset; and that at night they had been tethered and confined to a certain range, within which there was not sufficient for them to eat. They had already been too long without water or food, and therefore that which would have been a trifling53 journey to them under ordinary circumstances, under existing ones was beyond their strength. Nevertheless, though thus convincing my understanding, I felt that it required greater moral firmness to determine me to retrace54 my steps than to proceed onwards.
Regarding our situation in its most favourable point of view, my advancing would have been attended with extreme risk. If I had advanced, and had found water, all would have been well for the time at least — if not, the extent of our misfortunes would only have been tested by their results. The first would have been the certain loss of all our horses, and I know not if one of us would ever have returned to the Depot, then more than 400 miles distant, to tell the fate of his companions to those we had left there. On mature deliberation then, I resolved to fall back on the creek, and as my progress was arrested in this direction, to make that the centre of my movements, in trying every other point where I thought there might be a chance of success.
I saw clearly indeed that there was no help for this measure. We had penetrated55 to a point at which water and feed had both failed. Spinifex and a new species of mesembryanthemum, with light pink flowers on a slender stalk, were the only plants growing in that wilderness56, if I except a few withered57 acacia trees about four feet high. The spinifex was close and matted, and the horses were obliged to lift their feet straight up to avoid its sharp points. From the summit of a sandy undulation close upon our right, we saw that the ridges extended northwards in parallel lines beyond the range of vision, and appeared as if interminable. To the eastward58 and westward they succeeded each other like the waves of the sea. The sand was of a deep red colour, and a bright narrow line of it marked the top of each ridge, amidst the sickly pink and glaucous coloured vegetation around. I fear I have already wearied the reader by a description of such scenes, but he may form some idea of the one now placed before him, when I state, that, familiar as we had been to such, my companion involuntarily uttered an exclamation59 of amazement60 when he first glanced his eye over it. “Good Heavens,” said he, “did ever man see such country!” Indeed, if it was not so gloomy, it was more difficult than the Stony61 Desert itself; yet I turned from it with a feeling of bitter disappointment. I was at that moment scarcely a degree from the Tropic, and within 150 miles of the centre of the continent. If I had gained that spot my task would have been performed, my most earnest wish would have been gratified, but for some wise purpose this was denied to me; yet I may truly say, that I should not thus have abandoned my position, if it had not been a measure of urgent and imperative62 necessity.
After what I have said, the feelings with which, on the morning of the 8th, we unloosed our horses from the bushes, to which they had all night been fastened, will easily be imagined. Just as we were about to mount, a flight of crested63 parroquets on rapid wing and with loud shriek64 flew over us, coming directly from the north, and making for the creek to which we were going — it was a singular occurrence just at that moment, and so I regarded it, for I had well nigh turned again. It proved, however, that to the very last, we had followed the line of migration65 with unerring precision. What would I not have given for the powers of those swift wanderers of the air? But as it was I knew not how long they had been on the wing, or how far it was to the spot where they had last rested.
We passed the salt lagoon about 10 a.m. of the 9th, and stopped at a shallow but fresh water pond, a little below it, no less thankful than our exhausted66 animals that we were relieved from want, and the anxiety attendant on the last few days. On passing the lagoon we saw two natives digging for roots, but did not disturb them. In the afternoon, however, Joseph and Lewis saw twenty, who exhibited some unfriendly symptoms, and would not allow them to approach. They were not armed, but carried red bags. The food of the natives here, as in other parts of the interior, appeared to be seeds of various kinds. They had even been amongst the spinifex gathering67 the seed of the mesembryanthemum, of which they must obtain an abundant harvest. The weather, a little before this time, had been very cold, but was now getting warmer every day. As we had been advancing northwards towards the Tropics, I was not surprised at this. The sky also was clear, generally speaking, but we had observed for the last two or three months that it was invariably more cloudy at the full of the moon than at any other period.
As our recent journey proved that in going to the westward on the 5th inst., we had wandered from the creek, and that instead of holding on in that direction, it had changed its course considerably68 to the eastward of north, I determined69, after we should all have had a day of rest, to trace the channel upwards, in order to satisfy myself as to what became of it. On the 10th, therefore, Mr. Browne and myself with Flood, mounted our horses, with the intention of tracing it up until we should have ascertained70 to what point it led. We passed through some very pretty scenery in the proximity71 of the lagoon where it was lightly wooded, with an abundance of grass; and I could not help reflecting with how much more buoyant and pleasurable feelings we should have explored such a country, when compared with the monotonous72 and sterile73 region we had wandered over. The transition however from the rich to the barren, from the picturesque74 to the contrary, was instantaneous. From the grassy woodland we had been riding through, we debouched upon a barren plain without any vegetation, and after crossing a small channel, intersected a second much larger, a little beyond it. Both creeks75 evidently traversed different parts of a large plain to the north, to which they had no apparent inlet. There was a long tongue of sand, rather elevated, and running up into the plain, to the termination of which we rode, and then found ourselves, as it were, in the centre of an area, that was of great extent, and appeared to be bounded on all sides, excepting that by which we had entered, by sand hills. Unconnected lines of trees marked the courses of the channels traversing it in different directions, but as the evening had far advanced, and my object had been rather to look round about me than to make any lengthened76 excursion, we returned to our little bivouac, with the intention of devoting another day to the fuller examination of the neighbourhood.
On the following day I proceeded with the whole party to the westward, anticipating that the salt formation existing to the north-west was merely local, and that by thus turning a few degrees from the course on which we had before gone, we should altogether avoid it. I should not, however, have taken Joseph and Lewis with the cart, if I had not been somewhat apprehensive77 that the natives might visit the camp during my absence, and some misunderstanding be the consequence; for as we had hitherto found the country to the westward worse than at any other point, I was after all doubtful how far I should be able to push on.
We left the creek on a W. by N. course, the direction of the sandy ridges being to the N.N.W., so that we were obliged to cross them successively. I soon found that the country was infinitely78 worse than I expected. We had scarcely passed a kind of marsh79 at some little distance from the creek, when we once more crossed salty valleys, between high sandy ridges. The wind blowing fresh from the south, peppered us with showers of sand as we ascended the last, and carried the salt in the valleys like drifting snow from one end of them to the other, filling our eyes and entering the pores of the skin, so as to cause us much annoyance80. Before noon we had crossed eighteen of these sandy undulations, and were on the top of another, having fairly tired the horses in the ascent81, and I consequently pulled up, to wait for the cart, but the heavy nature of the country had so shaken it, that the men were obliged to stop; and on examining the spokes82 of the wheels, I really wondered how they could have got on so far, and expected that in another half mile every one of them would be shaken out, and the cart itself fall to the ground. The spokes had shrunk to such a degree that they did not hold in the felloes and axles by more than two or three 10ths of an inch. I felt it necessary therefore to turn back to the creek, to get new spokes of such wood as we could procure, there not being a tree of any kind visible near us; but it was late ere we got back to water, and once more took up our position on the same ground we had quitted in the morning. The country we had passed was certainly such as to deter me from making a second attempt in the same quarter, and to confirm my impression that from some cause or other the interior to the westward was worse than anywhere else. Lewis, the moment we got back to the creek, set to work in good earnest, with Joseph’s assistance, to repair the cart, but it necessarily delayed us longer than prudence83 would have allowed; in the meantime, however, we were at least deriving84 benefit from rest.
点击收听单词发音
1 grassy | |
adj.盖满草的;长满草的 | |
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2 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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3 denser | |
adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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4 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
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5 creek | |
n.小溪,小河,小湾 | |
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6 anomalous | |
adj.反常的;不规则的 | |
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7 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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8 ridges | |
n.脊( ridge的名词复数 );山脊;脊状突起;大气层的)高压脊 | |
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9 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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10 rugged | |
adj.高低不平的,粗糙的,粗壮的,强健的 | |
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11 deter | |
vt.阻止,使不敢,吓住 | |
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12 jaded | |
adj.精疲力竭的;厌倦的;(因过饱或过多而)腻烦的;迟钝的 | |
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13 lagoons | |
n.污水池( lagoon的名词复数 );潟湖;(大湖或江河附近的)小而浅的淡水湖;温泉形成的池塘 | |
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14 lagoon | |
n.泻湖,咸水湖 | |
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15 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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16 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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17 spoke | |
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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18 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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19 pulpy | |
果肉状的,多汁的,柔软的; 烂糊; 稀烂 | |
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20 stamina | |
n.体力;精力;耐力 | |
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21 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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22 dreaded | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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23 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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24 tenacious | |
adj.顽强的,固执的,记忆力强的,粘的 | |
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25 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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26 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
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27 tributary | |
n.支流;纳贡国;adj.附庸的;辅助的;支流的 | |
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28 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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29 upwards | |
adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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30 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
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31 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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32 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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33 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34 meridian | |
adj.子午线的;全盛期的 | |
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35 prudent | |
adj.谨慎的,有远见的,精打细算的 | |
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36 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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37 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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38 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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39 treacherous | |
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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40 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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41 prostrate | |
v.拜倒,平卧,衰竭;adj.拜倒的,平卧的,衰竭的 | |
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42 persevere | |
v.坚持,坚忍,不屈不挠 | |
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43 appalling | |
adj.骇人听闻的,令人震惊的,可怕的 | |
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44 scurvy | |
adj.下流的,卑鄙的,无礼的;n.坏血病 | |
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45 embarked | |
乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 ); 装载; 从事 | |
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46 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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47 regained | |
复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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48 elasticity | |
n.弹性,伸缩力 | |
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49 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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50 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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51 perseverance | |
n.坚持不懈,不屈不挠 | |
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52 depot | |
n.仓库,储藏处;公共汽车站;火车站 | |
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53 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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54 retrace | |
v.折回;追溯,探源 | |
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55 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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56 wilderness | |
n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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57 withered | |
adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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58 eastward | |
adv.向东;adj.向东的;n.东方,东部 | |
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59 exclamation | |
n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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60 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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61 stony | |
adj.石头的,多石头的,冷酷的,无情的 | |
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62 imperative | |
n.命令,需要;规则;祈使语气;adj.强制的;紧急的 | |
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63 crested | |
adj.有顶饰的,有纹章的,有冠毛的v.到达山顶(或浪峰)( crest的过去式和过去分词 );到达洪峰,达到顶点 | |
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64 shriek | |
v./n.尖叫,叫喊 | |
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65 migration | |
n.迁移,移居,(鸟类等的)迁徙 | |
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66 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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67 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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68 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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69 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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70 ascertained | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71 proximity | |
n.接近,邻近 | |
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72 monotonous | |
adj.单调的,一成不变的,使人厌倦的 | |
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73 sterile | |
adj.不毛的,不孕的,无菌的,枯燥的,贫瘠的 | |
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74 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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75 creeks | |
n.小湾( creek的名词复数 );小港;小河;小溪 | |
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76 lengthened | |
(时间或空间)延长,伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77 apprehensive | |
adj.担心的,恐惧的,善于领会的 | |
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78 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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79 marsh | |
n.沼泽,湿地 | |
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80 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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81 ascent | |
n.(声望或地位)提高;上升,升高;登高 | |
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82 spokes | |
n.(车轮的)辐条( spoke的名词复数 );轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 | |
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83 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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84 deriving | |
v.得到( derive的现在分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
参考例句: |
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