Beauty Smith slipped the chain from his neck and stepped back.
For once White Fang1 did not make an immediate2 attack. He stood still,ears pricked3 forward, alert and curious, surveying the strange animal thatfaced him. He had never seen such a dog before. Tim Keenan shoved thebull-dog forward with a muttered "Go to it." The animal waddled4 towardthe centre of the circle, short and squat5 and ungainly. He came to a stopand blinked across at White Fang.
There were cries from the crowd of, "Go to him, Cherokee! Sick 'm,Cherokee! Eat 'm up!"But Cherokee did not seem anxious to fight. He turned his head andblinked at the men who shouted, at the same time wagging his stump6 of atail good-naturedly. He was not afraid, but merely lazy. Besides, it did notseem to him that it was intended he should fight with the dog he sawbefore him. He was not used to fighting with that kind of dog, and he waswaiting for them to bring on the real dog.
Tim Keenan stepped in and bent8 over Cherokee, fondling him on bothsides of the shoulders with hands that rubbed against the grain of the hairand that made slight, pushing-forward movements. These were so manysuggestions. Also, their effect was irritating, for Cherokee began to growl9,very softly, deep down in his throat. There was a correspondence inrhythm between the growls10 and the movements of the man's hands. Thegrowl rose in the throat with the culmination11 of each forward-pushingmovement, and ebbed12 down to start up afresh with the beginning of thenext movement. The end of each movement was the accent of the rhythm,the movement ending abruptly13 and the growling15 rising with a jerk.
This was not without its effect on White Fang. The hair began to riseon his neck and across the shoulders. Tim Keenan gave a final shoveforward and stepped back again. As the impetus16 that carried Cherokeeforward died down, he continued to go forward of his own volition17, in aswift, bow-legged run. Then White Fang struck. A cry of startledadmiration went up. He had covered the distance and gone in more like acat than a dog; and with the same cat-like swiftness he had slashed19 withhis fangs20 and leaped clear.
The bull-dog was bleeding back of one ear from a rip in his thick neck.
He gave no sign, did not even snarl21, but turned and followed after WhiteFang. The display on both sides, the quickness of the one and thesteadiness of the other, had excited the partisan22 spirit of the crowd, and themen were making new bets and increasing original bets. Again, and yetagain, White Fang sprang in, slashed, and got away untouched, and stillhis strange foe23 followed after him, without too great haste, not slowly, butdeliberately and determinedly24, in a businesslike sort of way. There waspurpose in his method - something for him to do that he was intent upondoing and from which nothing could distract him.
His whole demeanour, every action, was stamped with this purpose. Itpuzzled White Fang. Never had he seen such a dog. It had no hairprotection. It was soft, and bled easily. There was no thick mat of fur tobaffle White Fang's teeth as they were often baffled by dogs of his ownbreed. Each time that his teeth struck they sank easily into the yieldingflesh, while the animal did not seem able to defend itself. Anotherdisconcerting thing was that it made no outcry, such as he had beenaccustomed to with the other dogs he had fought. Beyond a growl or agrunt, the dog took its punishment silently. And never did it flag in itspursuit of him.
Not that Cherokee was slow. He could turn and whirl swiftly enough,but White Fang was never there. Cherokee was puzzled, too. He had neverfought before with a dog with which he could not close. The desire toclose had always been mutual26. But here was a dog that kept at a distance,dancing and dodging27 here and there and all about. And when it did get itsteeth into him, it did not hold on but let go instantly and darted28 awayagain.
But White Fang could not get at the soft underside of the throat. Thebull-dog stood too short, while its massive jaws29 were an added protection.
White Fang darted in and out unscathed, while Cherokee's woundsincreased. Both sides of his neck and head were ripped and slashed. Hebled freely, but showed no signs of being disconcerted. He continued hisplodding pursuit, though once, for the moment baffled, he came to a fullstop and blinked at the men who looked on, at the same time wagging hisstump of a tail as an expression of his willingness to fight.
In that moment White Fang was in upon him and out, in passingripping his trimmed remnant of an ear. With a slight manifestation30 ofanger, Cherokee took up the pursuit again, running on the inside of thecircle White Fang was making, and striving to fasten his deadly grip onWhite Fang's throat. The bull-dog missed by a hair's-breadth, and cries ofpraise went up as White Fang doubled suddenly out of danger in theopposite direction.
The time went by. White Fang still danced on, dodging and doubling,leaping in and out, and ever inflicting31 damage. And still the bull-dog, withgrim certitude, toiled32 after him. Sooner or later he would accomplish hispurpose, get the grip that would win the battle. In the meantime, heaccepted all the punishment the other could deal him. His tufts of ears hadbecome tassels33, his neck and shoulders were slashed in a score of places,and his very lips were cut and bleeding - all from these lightning snapsthat were beyond his foreseeing and guarding.
Time and again White Fang had attempted to knock Cherokee off hisfeet; but the difference in their height was too great. Cherokee was toosquat, too close to the ground. White Fang tried the trick once too often.
The chance came in one of his quick doublings and counter-circlings. Hecaught Cherokee with head turned away as he whirled more slowly. Hisshoulder was exposed. White Fang drove in upon it: but his own shoulderwas high above, while he struck with such force that his momentumcarried him on across over the other's body. For the first time in hisfighting history, men saw White Fang lose his footing. His body turned ahalf-somersault in the air, and he would have landed on his back had henot twisted, catlike, still in the air, in the effort to bring his feet to the earth.
As it was, he struck heavily on his side. The next instant he was on his feet,but in that instant Cherokee's teeth closed on his throat.
It was not a good grip, being too low down toward the chest; butCherokee held on. White Fang sprang to his feet and tore wildly around,trying to shake off the bull-dog's body. It made him frantic34, this clinging,dragging weight. It bound his movements, restricted his freedom. It waslike the trap, and all his instinct resented it and revolted against it. It was amad revolt. For several minutes he was to all intents insane. The basic lifethat was in him took charge of him. The will to exist of his body surgedover him. He was dominated by this mere7 flesh-love of life. Allintelligence was gone. It was as though he had no brain. His reason wasunseated by the blind yearning36 of the flesh to exist and move, at allhazards to move, to continue to move, for movement was the expressionof its existence.
Round and round he went, whirling and turning and reversing, tryingto shake off the fifty-pound weight that dragged at his throat. The bull-dogdid little but keep his grip. Sometimes, and rarely, he managed to get hisfeet to the earth and for a moment to brace37 himself against White Fang.
But the next moment his footing would be lost and he would be draggingaround in the whirl of one of White Fang's mad gyrations. Cherokeeidentified himself with his instinct. He knew that he was doing the rightthing by holding on, and there came to him certain blissful thrills ofsatisfaction. At such moments he even closed his eyes and allowed hisbody to be hurled38 hither and thither39, willy-nilly, careless of any hurt thatmight thereby40 come to it. That did not count. The grip was the thing, andthe grip he kept.
White Fang ceased only when he had tired himself out. He could donothing, and he could not understand. Never, in all his fighting, had thisthing happened. The dogs he had fought with did not fight that way. Withthem it was snap and slash18 and get away, snap and slash and get away. Helay partly on his side, panting for breath. Cherokee still holding his grip,urged against him, trying to get him over entirely41 on his side. White Fangresisted, and he could feel the jaws shifting their grip, slightly relaxing andcoming together again in a chewing movement. Each shift brought the gripcloser to his throat. The bull-dog's method was to hold what he had, andwhen opportunity favoured to work in for more. Opportunity favouredwhen White Fang remained quiet. When White Fang struggled, Cherokeewas content merely to hold on.
The bulging42 back of Cherokee's neck was the only portion of his bodythat White Fang's teeth could reach. He got hold toward the base where theneck comes out from the shoulders; but he did not know the chewingmethod of fighting, nor were his jaws adapted to it. He spasmodicallyripped and tore with his fangs for a space. Then a change in their positiondiverted him. The bull-dog had managed to roll him over on his back, andstill hanging on to his throat, was on top of him. Like a cat, White Fangbowed his hind- quarters in, and, with the feet digging into his enemy'sabdomen above him, he began to claw with long tearing-strokes. Cherokeemight well have been disembowelled had he not quickly pivoted43 on hisgrip and got his body off of White Fang's and at right angles to it.
There was no escaping that grip. It was like Fate itself, and asinexorable. Slowly it shifted up along the jugular44. All that saved WhiteFang from death was the loose skin of his neck and the thick fur thatcovered it. This served to form a large roll in Cherokee's mouth, the fur ofwhich well-nigh defied his teeth. But bit by bit, whenever the chanceoffered, he was getting more of the loose skin and fur in his mouth. Theresult was that he was slowly throttling45 White Fang. The latter's breathwas drawn46 with greater and greater difficulty as the moments went by.
It began to look as though the battle were over. The backers ofCherokee waxed jubilant and offered ridiculous odds47. White Fang'sbackers were correspondingly depressed48, and refused bets of ten to oneand twenty to one, though one man was rash enough to close a wager49 offifty to one. This man was Beauty Smith. He took a step into the ring andpointed his finger at White Fang. Then he began to laugh derisively50 andscornfully. This produced the desired effect. White Fang went wild withrage. He called up his reserves of strength, and gained his feet. As hestruggled around the ring, the fifty pounds of his foe ever dragging on histhroat, his anger passed on into panic. The basic life of him dominated himagain, and his intelligence fled before the will of his flesh to live. Roundand round and back again, stumbling and falling and rising, evenuprearing at times on his hind-legs and lifting his foe clear of the earth, hestruggled vainly to shake off the clinging death.
At last he fell, toppling backward, exhausted51; and the bull-dogpromptly shifted his grip, getting in closer, mangling52 more and more of thefur-folded flesh, throttling White Fang more severely53 than ever. Shouts ofapplause went up for the victor, and there were many cries of "Cherokee!""Cherokee!" To this Cherokee responded by vigorous wagging of thestump of his tail. But the clamour of approval did not distract him. Therewas no sympathetic relation between his tail and his massive jaws. Theone might wag, but the others held their terrible grip on White Fang'sthroat.
It was at this time that a diversion came to the spectators. There was ajingle of bells. Dog-mushers' cries were heard. Everybody, save BeautySmith, looked apprehensively54, the fear of the police strong upon them. Butthey saw, up the trail, and not down, two men running with sled and dogs.
They were evidently coming down the creek55 from some prospecting56 trip.
At sight of the crowd they stopped their dogs and came over and joined it,curious to see the cause of the excitement. The dog-musher wore amoustache, but the other, a taller and younger man, was smooth-shaven,his skin rosy57 from the pounding of his blood and the running in the frostyair.
White Fang had practically ceased struggling. Now and again heresisted spasmodically and to no purpose. He could get little air, and thatlittle grew less and less under the merciless grip that ever tightened58. Inspite of his armour59 of fur, the great vein60 of his throat would have longsince been torn open, had not the first grip of the bull-dog been so lowdown as to be practically on the chest. It had taken Cherokee a long timeto shift that grip upward, and this had also tended further to clog61 his jawswith fur and skin-fold.
In the meantime, the abysmal62 brute63 in Beauty Smith had been risinginto his brain and mastering the small bit of sanity64 that he possessed65 atbest. When he saw White Fang's eyes beginning to glaze66, he knew beyonddoubt that the fight was lost. Then he broke loose. He sprang upon WhiteFang and began savagely67 to kick him. There were hisses68 from the crowdand cries of protest, but that was all. While this went on, and Beauty Smithcontinued to kick White Fang, there was a commotion69 in the crowd. Thetall young newcomer was forcing his way through, shouldering men rightand left without ceremony or gentleness. When he broke through into thering, Beauty Smith was just in the act of delivering another kick. All hisweight was on one loot, and he was in a state of unstable70 equilibrium71. Atthat moment the newcomer's fist landed a smashing blow full in his face.
Beauty Smith's remaining leg left the ground, and his whole body seemedto lift into the air as he turned over backward and struck the snow. Thenewcomer turned upon the crowd.
"You cowards!" he cried. "You beasts!"He was in a rage himself - a sane35 rage. His grey eyes seemed metallicand steel-like as they flashed upon the crowd. Beauty Smith regained72 hisfeet and came toward him, sniffling and cowardly. The new-comer did notunderstand. He did not know how abject73 a coward the other was, andthought he was coming back intent on fighting. So, with a "You beast!" hesmashed Beauty Smith over backward with a second blow in the face.
Beauty Smith decided74 that the snow was the safest place for him, and laywhere he had fallen, making no effort to get up.
"Come on, Matt, lend a hand," the newcomer called the dog-musher,who had followed him into the ring.
Both men bent over the dogs. Matt took hold of White Fang, ready topull when Cherokee's jaws should be loosened. This the younger manendeavoured to accomplish by clutching the bulldog's jaws in his handsand trying to spread them. It was a vain undertaking75. As he pulled andtugged and wrenched76, he kept exclaiming with every expulsion of breath,"Beasts!"The crowd began to grow unruly, and some of the men were protestingagainst the spoiling of the sport; but they were silenced when thenewcomer lifted his head from his work for a moment and glared at them.
"You damn beasts!" he finally exploded, and went back to his task.
"It's no use, Mr. Scott, you can't break 'm apart that way," Matt said atlast.
The pair paused and surveyed the locked dogs.
"Ain't bleedin' much," Matt announced. "Ain't got all the way in yet.""But he's liable to any moment," Scott answered. "There, did you seethat! He shifted his grip in a bit."The younger man's excitement and apprehension77 for White Fang wasgrowing. He struck Cherokee about the head savagely again and again.
But that did not loosen the jaws. Cherokee wagged the stump of his tail inadvertisement that he understood the meaning of the blows, but that heknew he was himself in the right and only doing his duty by keeping hisgrip.
"Won't some of you help?" Scott cried desperately78 at the crowd.
But no help was offered. Instead, the crowd began sarcastically79 tocheer him on and showered him with facetious80 advice.
"You'll have to get a pry81," Matt counselled.
The other reached into the holster at his hip82, drew his revolver, andtried to thrust its muzzle83 between the bull-dog's jaws. He shoved, andshoved hard, till the grating of the steel against the locked teeth could bedistinctly heard. Both men were on their knees, bending over the dogs.
Tim Keenan strode into the ring. He paused beside Scott and touched himon the shoulder, saying ominously84:
"Don't break them teeth, stranger.""Then I'll break his neck," Scott retorted, continuing his shoving andwedging with the revolver muzzle.
"I said don't break them teeth," the faro-dealer repeated moreominously than before.
But if it was a bluff85 he intended, it did not work. Scott never desistedfrom his efforts, though he looked up coolly and asked:
"Your dog?"The faro-dealer grunted86.
"Then get in here and break this grip.""Well, stranger," the other drawled irritatingly, "I don't mind tellingyou that's something I ain't worked out for myself. I don't know how toturn the trick.""Then get out of the way," was the reply, "and don't bother me. I'mbusy."Tim Keenan continued standing87 over him, but Scott took no furthernotice of his presence. He had managed to get the muzzle in between thejaws on one side, and was trying to get it out between the jaws on theother side. This accomplished88, he pried89 gently and carefully, loosening thejaws a bit at a time, while Matt, a bit at a time, extricated90 White Fang'smangled neck.
"Stand by to receive your dog," was Scott's peremptory91 order toCherokee's owner.
The faro-dealer stooped down obediently and got a firm hold onCherokee.
"Now!" Scott warned, giving the final pry.
The dogs were drawn apart, the bull-dog struggling vigorously.
"Take him away," Scott commanded, and Tim Keenan draggedCherokee back into the crowd.
White Fang made several ineffectual efforts to get up. Once he gainedhis feet, but his legs were too weak to sustain him, and he slowly wiltedand sank back into the snow. His eyes were half closed, and the surface ofthem was glassy. His jaws were apart, and through them the tongueprotruded, draggled and limp. To all appearances he looked like a dog thathad been strangled to death. Matt examined him.
"Just about all in," he announced; "but he's breathin' all right."Beauty Smith had regained his feet and come over to look at WhiteFang.
"Matt, how much is a good sled-dog worth?" Scott asked.
The dog-musher, still on his knees and stooped over White Fang,calculated for a moment.
"Three hundred dollars," he answered.
"And how much for one that's all chewed up like this one?" Scottasked, nudging White Fang with his foot.
"Half of that," was the dog-musher's judgment92. Scott turned uponBeauty Smith.
"Did you hear, Mr. Beast? I'm going to take your dog from you, andI'm going to give you a hundred and fifty for him."He opened his pocket-book and counted out the bills.
Beauty Smith put his hands behind his back, refusing to touch theproffered money.
"I ain't a-sellin'," he said.
"Oh, yes you are," the other assured him. "Because I'm buying. Here'syour money. The dog's mine."Beauty Smith, his hands still behind him, began to back away.
Scott sprang toward him, drawing his fist back to strike. Beauty Smithcowered down in anticipation93 of the blow.
"I've got my rights," he whimpered.
"You've forfeited94 your rights to own that dog," was the rejoinder. "Areyou going to take the money? or do I have to hit you again?""All right," Beauty Smith spoke95 up with the alacrity96 of fear. "But I takethe money under protest," he added. "The dog's a mint. I ain't a-goin' to berobbed. A man's got his rights.""Correct," Scott answered, passing the money over to him. "A man'sgot his rights. But you're not a man. You're a beast.""Wait till I get back to Dawson," Beauty Smith threatened. "I'll havethe law on you.""If you open your mouth when you get back to Dawson, I'll have yourun out of town. Understand?"Beauty Smith replied with a grunt25.
"Understand?" the other thundered with abrupt14 fierceness.
"Yes," Beauty Smith grunted, shrinking away.
"Yes what?""Yes, sir," Beauty Smith snarled97.
"Look out! He'll bite!" some one shouted, and a guffaw98 of laughterwent up.
Scott turned his back on him, and returned to help the dog-musher,who was working over White Fang.
Some of the men were already departing; others stood in groups,looking on and talking. Tim Keenan joined one of the groups.
"Who's that mug?" he asked.
"Weedon Scott," some one answered.
"And who in hell is Weedon Scott?" the faro-dealer demanded.
"Oh, one of them crackerjack minin' experts. He's in with all the bigbugs. If you want to keep out of trouble, you'll steer99 clear of him, that's mytalk. He's all hunky with the officials. The Gold Commissioner's a specialpal of his.""I thought he must be somebody," was the faro-dealer's comment.
"That's why I kept my hands offen him at the start."
收听单词发音 |
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fang
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| n.尖牙，犬牙 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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culmination
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| n.顶点；最高潮 | |
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ebbed
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的过去式和过去分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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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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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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inflicting
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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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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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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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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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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pivoted
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| adj.转动的，回转的，装在枢轴上的v.（似）在枢轴上转动( pivot的过去式和过去分词 )；把…放在枢轴上；以…为核心，围绕（主旨）展开 | |
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jugular
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| n.颈静脉 | |
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throttling
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| v.扼杀( throttle的现在分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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46
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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49
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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50
derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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51
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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52
mangling
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| 重整 | |
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53
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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55
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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56
prospecting
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| n.探矿 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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abysmal
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| adj.无底的，深不可测的，极深的；糟透的，极坏的；完全的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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glaze
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| v.因疲倦、疲劳等指眼睛变得呆滞，毫无表情 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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hisses
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| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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equilibrium
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| n.平衡，均衡，相称，均势，平静 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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81
pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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82
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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83
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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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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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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89
pried
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| v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的过去式和过去分词 )；撬开 | |
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90
extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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92
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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93
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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94
forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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96
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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97
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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98
guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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99
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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