Little Zu-zu Pearce, who, since his rescue of Tom, had adopted him as her own especial hero, came up to him, as he was standing4 by the schoolhouse steps, and looking at him gravely, said:
“Does it hurt you awful, Ned?”
“I don’t believe you’d say, even if it was killing7 you,” asserted Zu-zu, admiringly. “And you were awful brave not to let go of that rope and be killed!”
“Well, I don’t care—you didn’t let go, anyway,” returned Zu-zu; and she skipped back to the other girls, leaving Ned red and embarrassed, but nevertheless gazing after her with a pleased expression in his eyes and a kindly9 warmth in his heart.
But, as in the case of many a badge of honor, the cane presently became irksome. Ned wanted a gun, and he knew that it was no use to aspire10 to be a hunter if he couldn’t walk and run. So he dropped the cane, now unnecessary, and fell to teasing his father for a shotgun.
Living as they did beside the Mississippi, which is a great thoroughfare for wild fowl11 in their flights from north to south, and from south to north, each fall and spring the Beauforters were given splendid duck-shooting.
All the men who liked hunting, and nearly all the older boys, and some of the younger whose folks did not care, had guns. Hunting played as important a part in a Beaufort boy’s program as did swimming and rowing.
Although Ned had mastered the two sports last mentioned, it did not seem to his mother that she ever could consent to his taking up the first—hunting with a gun.
Time had proved to her that there were plenty of dangers to which Ned was exposed, without adding to the list powder and lead.
Ned argued for; his mother pleaded against; Mr. Miller12 listened and smiled, and was strictly13 non-committal. Down deep in his mind he knew that in the end Ned would win the day.
“Well, Helen, I don’t see but what we’ll have to give the boy the gun,” he remarked to his wife, when they were alone, one evening.
“But you see, my dear, it will be very hard to keep him from being with other boys who have guns,” explained her husband, “and it would be better to let him have a gun of his own, and understand how to use it, than to leave him to pick up what he can, and maybe get injured through his ignorance.”
“Oh, Will!” again appealed Mrs. Miller. “It doesn’t seem as though I could agree to it.”
Then mother-like, that her boy might live his strong, sturdy life, she consented.
“Ned,” spoke15 Mr. Miller, the next noon, “supposing we let you have a gun, will you promise to do exactly as we say?”
“Of course,” assured Ned.
He half-way expected that his father would take him straight down town and buy a gun; but he was disappointed. There were farther preliminaries.
“All right,” said his father. “But before you get the gun, I want to be sure that you know how to handle it. I don’t want you shooting yourself, or shooting anybody else, which would be about as bad. So I’ve arranged with Mr. Russell to take you out and show you a few things.”
Mr. Russell lived across the street. He was a great hunter, and had all manner of shooting stuff. He was known as a very steady, prudent19 man, and Mr. and Mrs. Miller felt that they could safely trust Ned to him.
As for Ned, his disappointment was not keen, after all. Going out with Mr. Russell, whom he regarded as the finest hunter in town, was next best thing to having a gun, oneself.
“I mean—when are we going?” resumed Ned, too excited to offer other apology. “And will he help me train Bob to be a hunting dog?”
“He’ll let you know when he’s ready,” stated Mr. Miller. “And until then you must wait, and not bother either him or us, about gun or dog.”
Ned strove to walk his paths with patience, and soon was rewarded. The twentieth of September, and the first frost had just passed, and hazelnuts and hickory-nuts were ripe for gathering23, when Mr. Russell sent over word for Ned to be ready that night after school, and they would go out for a little while.
“Hurrah24!” shouted Ned, capering25 through the sitting-room26. “Did he say to take a lunch, father? Will you put it up, mother? How long are we to stay? Where are we going? Can I stay as long as he does?”
“Oh, Neddie!” protested his mother, placing her hands over her ears.
“Ned, be still!” ordered his father. “I don’t think you’ll need a lunch—although, judging from your appetite, you ought to carry one with you all the time. No, Mr. Russell said that he was merely going out on the flats for an hour, to shoot off some old shells, and that you could help him, if you liked.”
“Oh!” responded Ned, a bit crestfallen27. “Shall I take Bob?”
“If neither Mr. Russell nor Bob objects, I’m sure I don’t,” laughed Mr. Miller.
As soon as school was out Ned scurried28 to Mr. Russell’s, and found him sorting over shells, and stuffing some into his coat pockets. Ned was a little surprised to note that he was dressed just as usual, and evidently did not intend to wear his business-like hunting coat, with its stains from game and weather, and its pockets with here and there a mysterious feather; or his boots; or even his brown cap with slanting29 visor.
“Hello, young man,” greeted Mr. Russell.
“Hello,” replied Ned. “Are we going to kill anything?”
“Why, yes; take him along, if you wish to,” answered Mr. Russell, surveying Bob, who was wagging his tail near by. “He’s pretty old to train, now, but we can see if there’s any good in him, maybe.”
Bob, who, at the stroke of the bell for the close of school always hied out upon the front walk to wait for his master, and thus, this afternoon, had caught him ere he entered the Russell gate, had been uneasily sniffing32 at the gun case, and eyeing Mr. Russell’s preparations. He whined33, vaguely34 and uncertainly. There was something that he didn’t like.
In spite of Mr. Russell’s ordinary garb35 Ned was as proud as a peacock when they started up the street together, while Bob, with worried air, trotted36 behind.
The flats for which they were bound lay just west of the town; they were a wide stretch of low, level land, pasture and shallow marsh37, given over to cows and frogs.
Ned and Mr. Russell scrambled38 over a fence, and stopped in a field where there were no cattle or persons within range.
Mr. Russell took the gun from its case, and snapped it together.
“Say—is that your gun?” demanded Ned, surprised. “I thought you had a double-barrel!”
“This is a new one,” replied Mr. Russell. “See, how it comes apart?” and he unsnapped the fore-end, and took off the barrel. “Now you try,” he bade, passing the parts to Ned.
Without hesitation39 Ned fitted them together. Then he handled the piece fondly.
It was a compact little single-barrel, twelve-bore, with low, rebounding40 hammer, pistol grip, barrel of bronzed twist, stock of polished walnut41, and all the metal trimmings blued, to prevent rust20, and avoid alarming game by flashes of sun; in fact, from the sight bead42 to the rubber butt43 plate it seemed a perfect little gun.
“My!” sighed Ned, boldly putting it to his shoulder, and aiming into space. “It is choke-bore, Mr. Russell?”
“Yes, siree,” assured Mr. Russell, who had been watching him with a twinkle in his eyes. “Shall I show you?” and he extended his hand.
With a final loving pat of the breech Ned regretfully turned the gun over to him, and awaited the next number on the program.
Mr. Russell inserted a shell, and said:
“Now go off from me about thirty yards, and throw up this tin can, and let’s see what I can do to it.”
Ned obeyed. He ran out, close followed by Bob, until Mr. Russell told him to stop.
“Throw it high, and away from you,” called Mr. Russell.
Up sailed the can. “Bang!” went the gun. “Clink!” sounded the shot cutting the tin. The can jumped in its arc, and striking the ground rolled over and over as though it had been mortally wounded.
Ned raced to pick it up. It was now a sorry looking can; and he brought it to Mr. Russell, counting the shot holes as he did so.
“That’s very fair,” commented Mr. Russell, carelessly glancing at it. “There goes your dog,” he added, pointing across the field.
Sure enough; there was Bob, two hundred yards away, and making a bee-line for home. He never looked back. His tail was between his legs and his back was humped, and even at that distance his whole mien46 told of outraged47 feelings.
“Here, Bob! Here, Bob!” called Ned; but he called and whistled in vain.
“No use, Ned,” remarked Mr. Russell, laughing. “He’s gun-shy. Somebody must have shot at him, once; or fired off a gun close to his ears; and now, you see, he’s afraid when he hears a report.”
“Won’t he get over it?” asked Ned, astonished and puzzled.
“No, I don’t think he will,” answered Mr. Russell. “He’s spoiled for hunting.”
“Well,” said Ned, gazing after poor Bob, now a speck48 townward. “It isn’t his fault, anyway. He can’t help it.”
“Supposing you try a shot,” proposed Mr. Russell, handing the gun and a shell to him.
Bob’s failure to toe the scratch, in this, the only particular, vanished from Ned’s mind. He gladly seized gun and shell.
“No, that’s not the right way to put in a cartridge,” corrected Mr. Russell, kindly. “You have the muzzle49 pointed18 exactly at my stomach! And when you close the breech, that will bring the muzzle about at my mouth! Let me show you a better way.”
“There!” he continued, returning the weapon to Ned. “When you load, always be sure that nobody is in line with the piece. The chances are that the shell won’t explode, but if it should, even once in a thousand times, or in ten thousand, and there be an accident, you’d never forgive yourself. It’s impossible to be too cautious, and it’s very easy not to be cautious enough, Ned.”
Ned, somewhat abashed50, but impressed by the earnestness of Mr. Russell’s voice, this time loaded more carefully, and Mr. Russell had him repeat the operation to make certain that the lesson was learned.
“One small mistake might ruin your whole life, Ned,” warned Mr. Russell. “So start right. And now for a mark,” he proceeded. “I’ll set a can on that fence post, yonder, and I’ll wager51 that you can’t put as many shot in it as I did in that other can on the fly. Did you ever shoot a gun?”
“Once,” confessed Ned, reluctantly. “A long time ago. And it kicked me over, and made my lip bleed, and when I came home, and father found out he said it served me right. It was Chuck Donahue’s; his big muzzle loader.”
“Did you hit anything?” queried Mr. Russell, smiling as he walked away.
“N-n-no,” admitted Ned. “At least, there was only one shot-hole, and Chuck said he made it. But I’ve aimed lots of times,” he added, to prove that he was not lacking in experience.
“Here!” called Mr. Russell, looking back. “Keep that gun pointed toward the ground until you’re taking aim! I don’t want to be speckled all over with lead.”
“It isn’t cocked,” explained Ned.
“That makes no difference,” retorted Mr. Russell. “Always handle a gun, empty or loaded, cocked or not, as though you expected that it would go off at any moment. That should become a fixed52 habit. Will you remember—or shall we stop?”
“Oh, I’ll remember,” pledged Ned.
Mr. Russell balanced the smooth round can on the fence post, and walked to one side.
“All ready,” he announced.
“Why not cock your gun?” inquired Mr. Russell, quizzically.
Ned blushed. What a number of blunders he had made! Mr. Russell would think him very stupid.
He aimed again.
“Bang!”
The stock of the gun flew up and jarred his head, but he didn’t mind. He peered through the thin smoke. The can had disappeared.
“I hit it! I hit it! I know I hit it!” he cried, setting out on the dead run.
“I should say you did!” assured Mr. Russell, delighted, picking up the can and examining it. “Bravo! Fifteen—sixteen, seventeen! You beat me by one!”
Ned clutched the can, and delivered the gun into cooler keeping. He scanned his trophy55 inch by inch, and gloated over the many holes. Mr. Russell noted56 his puffed57 lip, and smiled.
“If you hadn’t taken in me, too, when you swung your gun, to aim,” he commented, “you might not have been punished by that lip.”
“Oh!” uttered Ned, a little taken aback, and becoming conscious of his bump.
“Next time you’ll hold the gun tighter against your shoulder—and be more careful in that other respect, too,” said Mr. Russell, simply.
They stayed on the flats for an hour and a half, and used up all of Mr. Russell’s cartridges58; and when Ned went home he fairly was bursting with information. He carried with him that riddled59 tin can, and with no small degree of pride showed it to the family and to the boys of the neighborhood. He had hit other cans, during the lesson, but this was the result of his first shot!
Bob was waiting for him, at the front gate. He greeted his master with a sheepish, apologetic manner, as though to say:
“I didn’t mean to act so silly; but you know, I can’t help it.”
“That’s all right, Bob,” comforted Ned. “I understand. You shan’t go again.”
Whereupon Bob whined wistfully, as much as to say:
“Well, I don’t think you ought to go, then, either.”
During the next week Ned went out several times with Mr. Russell, and began to feel like quite a veteran. He not only could hit stationary61 cans, but he learned to hit things tossed into the air. To tell the truth, he was a fine pupil.
“Ned, Mr. Russell thinks that the public won’t suffer if we go ahead now and trust you alone with a gun,” observed Mr. Miller, one evening, at the supper table. “He says you’re learning well, and that all you need do is remember.”
“I can hit a little piece of bark thrown up forty yards away,” asserted Ned, confidently.
“Very good,” responded his father, pushing back from the table. “But I didn’t get Mr. Russell to teach you that, so much as to teach you not to hit some objects more important!”
He went into the bedroom, and came back, bearing a gun case.
“How do you like it?” he said, giving it to Ned.
With feverish62 fingers Ned unbuckled the straps63. The case had looked familiar; the gun was still more familiar.
“Say——” he burst out. “Is it mine? Did Mr. Russell give it to me? Did you buy it of him? It’s the very same gun!”
“So it is,” replied his father, pleased to see him so pleased. “I had Mr. Russell pick it out for me the day after you and your mother and I talked together; so you’ve been using it all this time, and now you’re acquainted with it. It’s yours.”
“Not yet,” interrupted Mrs. Miller. “Wait a moment. Give the gun to me, Ned.”
Ned wonderingly surrendered the treasure.
“Neddie,” she declared, holding it behind her back, and trying not to laugh, “you can’t have it unless you promise not to use that dreadful ‘say’ any more!”
“Won’t what?” insisted his mother.
“Won’t say ‘say’ any more,” cried Ned.
“Or as much,” restricted his mother, firmly.
“I won’t say it at all,” promised Ned.
With a kiss his mother restored the gun to his eager grasp.
The only personage within Ned’s circle of relatives and friends who did not rejoice with him in his new gun was Bob. Poor Bob! The weapon was an eye-sore to him. When his master brought it out Bob gazed at him reproachfully, and slunk off, dejected, woebegone. No coaxing65 could lift his spirits, or induce him to come outside the yard, when the gun was in sight.
The gun was the only break that ever occurred in the relationship between Ned and his dog.
Ned speedily waxed to be a crack shot among his fellows. He practiced incessantly67, to the death of countless68 tin cans, and the disappearance69 of his savings70.
Mr. Miller did not object, but he outlined his views in a little lecture on shooting in general.
“Destroy all the cans you want to, Ned,” he laughed. “They’re fair game.” Then he grew graver: “That’s right. I want you to learn to shoot straight, so as to kill when you intend to. But don’t shoot for practice at innocent birds. They love to live, as well as you. Don’t risk shots at game when the chances are that you can merely wound. Shoot straight, and kill outright71. Better let a duck go, than maim72 it, so that it is liable to linger and suffer for hours or days. That is why I gave you a single-barrel, and had it heavily choked. You will be more careful than if you had a second barrel to fall back upon, and when the load hits a bird, it will hit to kill.”
“Oh, Neddie! I do wish that you would be content to shoot at cans and such things, like you are doing now,” pleaded his mother.
“So far as eating is concerned, Ned,” spoke his father, drily, [131]“we shan’t go back on our butcher just yet, even though you have got a gun! We might need him.”
Of all the boys who accompanied Ned, to throw cans and blocks about at his bidding, Tom Pearce was the most faithful, although Hal likewise went quite often, and was trying to have his father get him a gun, also.
The frosty nights and the soft, delicious days of Indian summer arrived; with them arrived the ducks, who well knew that winter was near at hand, in ambush74 on the borders of autumn.
Ned’s neck was stiff from perpetually searching the heavens to discover scurrying75 flocks. He talked ducks from morn to eve, and dreamed ducks from eve to morn, and the family assured him that he certainly would turn into one, if he didn’t let up.
And so far, despite his hunting excursions, and his tales of “big mallards” that he “almost” got, the family table was still innocent of game.
The tenth of November, and behold76 Ned, and Tom, his squire77, across the river, trudging78 among the winding79 sloughs80 that formed a popular Beaufort hunting-ground. They had started from home at four in the morning—as was their custom; and had been tramping ever since—as, again, was their custom; and had not shot a single duck—which, alas81, also was their custom. Ducks were much more crafty82 than tin cans.
Yet the boys thought that tramping all a long day, laden83 with gun and shells and boots, through swamp and over fields; with a few mouthfuls of cold breakfast, and a cold lunch hastily gobbled; and at the
last not a feather to reward them, was much less work than piling wood, for instance, or going down town for a yeast-cake!
Perseverance84 has its reward. On this tenth of November Ned and Tom had stopped in a fence corner to eat their lunch, which consisted mainly of bread and butter and sugar, hard boiled eggs, and cookies. They had stiffly arisen, and had walked forward not twenty paces, when up from under the high bank of a narrow inlet just in front of them, jumped straight into the air, with a quack85 and a sputter86, a panic-stricken something, and was off like a bullet.
“Bang!” spoke the gun.
Down to turf upon the other side of the inlet plumped the something, magically stopped in mid-flight.
“You got him! You got him! Hurrah!” howled Tom, dashing through the water, up over his knees—and boots.
“Hurrah!” cheered Ned, in his wake.
It had happened so quickly that he was quite beside himself. He had no recollection of taking aim. He had no recollection of anything save a feathered blurr in the air, his gun banging—and the feathered blurr had disappeared.
Through the shallow inlet they plashed, reckless of consequences. On the way Ned ejected the empty shell and inserted, with trembling fingers, a new one, to be ready in case the victim should suddenly make off!
The precaution was unnecessary. The victim was past all “making off.” Tom reached it first, where it lay, a shapeless, pathetic little lump of down and quill88, twenty yards from the water’s edge, and grabbed it with the zeal89 of a retriever.
“’Tain’t, either,” he said, scornfully. “It’s a green-wing teal. See there.”
The boys turned the limp bunch—no larger than a pigeon, but, nevertheless, their first prize—over and over in their hands, marking its every feature.
Unlucky duckling; its life, begun only that summer, had quickly ended.
At last Ned tucked it in the pocket of his hunting-coat, and on they strode, feeling now on the highway to slaughter93.
Every few minutes Ned caressingly94 fingered the warm, soft ball hanging against his left hip66. He hoped that it would make a bloody95 spot on the canvas of the pocket. Although he had done his best, the coat was still altogether too fresh.
No more game fell to his gun that day; but neither he nor Tom cared. They were not to go home empty-handed.
All the way through the streets Ned wondered if people suspected what he was carrying concealed96 in that pocket; and he bore, without caring, the gibes97 of sundry98 hateful urchins99:
“Aw, didn’t get nothin’! Didn’t get nothin’! Ain’t he a big hunter, though!”
Tom stayed and helped him clean the teal. They sat in the barn door, and scattered100 the feathers into the alley101, while Bob sniffed102 and sniffed at their operations. The smell of the duck seemed to revive in his blood old instincts, inherited from his parents, and he was unhappy and puzzled.
“You didn’t kill that all at once, did you?” laughed a man, driving past.
Well, it had not been very big, with the feathers on, and it was very much smaller, with the feathers off. But it was a duck!
The boys counted the shot-holes, and traced where each pellet had gone in and come out. They agreed that Ned’s aim had been exactly right and that the gun was a wonder.
Into the midst of their pleasure crept an undercurrent of pity which stopped just short of regret.
“Seems kind of too bad, to kill it, doesn’t it,” commented Tom, weighing the wee, cold, bare morsel103 in his palm.
“Y-y-yes,” admitted Ned. “But I guess he never knew what struck him.”
The wings, with their band of shiny emerald, had been put aside, to keep.
“Here,” said Ned, holding them out to Tom, as that stanch104 follower105 was on the point of going home. “Take ’em.”
“No, you keep ’em,” insisted Tom.
“Give ’em to Zu-zu, then,” blushed Ned, as if that was a second thought. “She can wear ’em in a hat.”
Ned was duly congratulated on his success by the family. The duck went to the ice-box, and was roasted and served to him for dinner the next day.
“Oh, Neddie!” exclaimed his mother, as the teal, now, after cooking, was smaller than ever. “Do you mean to say that it took two boys and a gun and nearly a whole day to kill a poor little bird like that?”
“It’s good, anyway,” excused Ned, his mouth full.
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收听单词发音
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1
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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3
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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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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scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sprain
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| n.扭伤,扭筋 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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aspire
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| vi.(to，after)渴望，追求，有志于 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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15
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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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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capering
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| v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的现在分词 )；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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scurried
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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35
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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36
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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37
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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38
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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39
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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40
rebounding
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| 蹦跳运动 | |
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41
walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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42
bead
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| n.念珠；(pl.)珠子项链；水珠 | |
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43
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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44
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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45
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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46
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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48
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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49
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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52
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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53
lapses
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| n.失误，过失( lapse的名词复数 )；小毛病；行为失检；偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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54
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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trophy
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| n.优胜旗，奖品，奖杯，战胜品，纪念品 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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58
cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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riddled
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| adj.布满的；充斥的；泛滥的v.解谜，出谜题(riddle的过去分词形式) | |
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60
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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68
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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maim
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| v.使残废，使不能工作，使伤残 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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76
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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77
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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80
sloughs
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| n.沼泽( slough的名词复数 )；苦难的深渊；难以改变的不良心情；斯劳(Slough)v.使蜕下或脱落( slough的第三人称单数 )；舍弃；除掉；摒弃 | |
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81
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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82
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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83
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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84
perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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85
quack
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| n.庸医；江湖医生；冒充内行的人；骗子 | |
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86
sputter
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| n.喷溅声；v.喷溅 | |
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87
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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89
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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90
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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91
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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92
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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93
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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94
caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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95
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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96
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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97
gibes
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| vi.嘲笑，嘲弄（gibe的第三人称单数形式） | |
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98
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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99
urchins
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| n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 )；淘气鬼；猬；海胆 | |
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100
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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101
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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102
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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103
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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104
stanch
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| v.止住（血等）；adj.坚固的；坚定的 | |
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follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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