Mr. Grigsby smiled grimly.
"They probably saw I was a Frémont man—may have heard us talking; and they took the chance. Naturally enough they'd guess that I knew the captain. All we early Americans in California knew him, and he stood ready to help us out. Well, sir, they left a clue, at any rate. We'll follow as fast as we can."
"Do you think we'll catch them?" asked Charley, eagerly.
"We'll do our best, whether we catch 'em or not," answered the Frémonter. "It's a big country, up yonder in the mountains, as they'll find out. Now, I'm thinking that we can't do better than to take the trail up the south branch of the American, to the saw-mill, and see Jim Marshall. He's been living right in the middle of things and may know something we'll want to hear."
"You mean the Marshall who discovered this California gold, for Americans?" queried2 Charley's father. "Well, I'd certainly like to see him, and have Charley see him; and the place, too."
"All right. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone," answered the Frémonter. "And from the mill we can work north, to the other branch of the American."
The baggage was undisturbed, on the levee. Charley held the burro, and his father and Mr. Grigsby proceeded to pack her. Mr. Grigsby had stopped at a store, on their way, and bought two crowbars, a new rope and a pack-saddle, and some dried-beef. The crowbars cost $1.50 each, the rope cost $5, and the pack-saddle, of oak and rawhide3 and shaped like two letter X's fastened together by the middle, cost $8. The meat was the cheapest. It came in long strips, and sold by the yard—six yards for fifty cents!
The Frémonter was of course an expert at packing a horse or mule4, and Mr. Adams knew considerable about it, from his army experience. Charley wondered at the neatness with which his comrades hoisted5 aboard all the variously shaped articles, and tied them fast so that they balanced.
"They call this the diamond hitch," grunted6 Mr. Grigsby, as he hauled tight, while the little burro stood with ears meekly7 drooped8. "Rope makes the shape of a diamond—see? But it's only the regular trappers' pack throw. I've used it a thousand times and more. Well, we're all ready; hurrah9 for the gold mines. Charley, you can lead the critter. I'll go ahead, to show the road."
As they left the hurly-burly of the embarcadero, and threaded their way through the bustling11 town, which was like another San Francisco, nobody appeared to notice their march. It probably was an old story, and besides, the people were too busy running about, bargaining in real estate, making money quick.
The dust was floating high, from the many feet; and as the street became a road out of the town, the dust was thicker than ever, from parties on before. It lay brown and powdery, ankle-deep and hot to the boots. The sun blazed down fiercely. Leading the little burro, in his heavy clothing Charley soon was streaming with perspiration12; before, tramped with long stride the Frémonter, a rifle on shoulder; at the rear stanchly limped Mr. Adams, well laden13 with gun and pistol and the few articles that he and Mr. Grigsby had divided.
The burro's pack displayed crowbars and shovels14 and picks and gold pans and camp equipage; and to Charley's mind the little procession looked very business-like.
After following the dusty road through a flat brown plain, in about a mile and a half they passed what Mr. Grigsby said was the famous Sutter's Fort. With its thick clay walls and square towers at the corners, pierced with loopholes, it did indeed look like a fort. Inside the walls were several clay buildings where the captain had lived and stored his goods and taught his Indians to do white man's work. He had erected15 his fort here in 1839, and had been given all the land about, by the Mexican government of California. But now the fort was deserted16; the doors and windows had been broken in, most of the wood had been torn out and carried off, and the fields about had been used as pasturage by the gold seekers. No wonder that the captain felt aggrieved17; and it was pretty hard on him, when really because of his saw-mill had gold been discovered. This was poor reward for having settled the country and built a saw-mill—and a flour mill besides.
"There's the Rio Americano," spoke18 Mr. Grigsby, pointing ahead, after they had passed old Fort Sutter.
About a quarter of a mile before on the left, a line of trees indicated the course of a river—the American. And a fine stream it proved to be, flowing clear and sparkling between wooded grassy19 banks. The road, still dusty, turned slightly, and ascended20 along the river, making toward the rolling brown foothills which shimmered21 in the blue distance, with the mighty22 snow-crests of the Sierra Nevada range glinting beyond them.
In the shallows and on the bars of the American parties of miners were at work digging away with spades and picks, and squatting23 to wash out the gold in their pans. They all were so busy that they seemed to note nothing on either side of them or overhead. Their eyes were glued to the sand and the holes and the pans. Other parties had halted by the way, for rest in the shade of trees; and these hailed the Adams party with the usual calls: "How far to the diggin's, strangers?" "This is the American, ain't it?" "Say! How much do you s'pose a man can dig in a day, up there?" "Where you folks from, and where you bound?" "Is it always this hot in Californy?" And so forth24, and so forth.
Several parties on their way back to Sacramento also were met; they were brown and hairy and rough and ragged25, and some of them limped weakly as if they could scarcely carry their weapons, picks, spades, crowbars and blanket-rolls. They all were received with a perfect volley of excited queries26 from the resting parties—to which they replied with wave of hand and sometimes with a triumphant27 flourish of a fat little sack.
But Mr. Grigsby paused not for the gold seekers in the river, or under the trees, or on the way down. He tramped stoutly28, with his long stride; Charley just as stoutly followed behind, leading the packed burro, and at the tail of the burro strode, a little unevenly29, the tall and soldierly Mr. Adams.
The dusty road continued through the wide rolling plain which formed the east half of the great Valley of the Sacramento. The herbage was short and brown, except at the margin30 of the streams, and the hot landscape was broken by occasional large spreading trees, singly and in clumps31. As the foothills gradually drew nearer, the number of miners became greater. Finally, at sunset, Mr. Grigsby halted at a grassy hollow, near the American, where there was a considerable camp of men, and even two women. A rude sign announced the title "Woodchuck's Delight."
"We'll camp, too, I reckon," he quoth, dropping his pack; and Charley was glad to hear the words. "How are you?" greeted Mr. Grigsby to the nearest miners, as he turned to unpack32 the burro.
"Howdy, strangers? Where you from and where you going?"
"Just coming in, or have you made one pile?"
"That's a burro, ain't it? Will you sell him?"
"What might your names be, strangers?"
To these and other queries Mr. Grigsby answered good-naturedly, as he and Mr. Adams stripped the little burro. The camp consisted of a few tents and of men who merely had thrown their blankets down here and there, as if to cook their suppers and rest till morning. The great majority had come afoot, many without even pack animals; a sprinkling of horses and mules33 were staked out, at pasture; and speedily Mr. Grigsby led the burro aside, to stake him out, too. He laid back his ears, stretched out his shaggy head, and made short runs at the other animals near him, until he had cleared a grazing spot all his own. Then he hee-hawed triumphantly34, and lay down for a luxurious35 roll.
Mr. Adams and Charley tossed the bedding to a place which appeared as good as any other, for sleeping, and got out the "grub" and cooking utensils36.
"Charley, you're expected to supply the wood and water, and help me with the camp chores generally," directed his father. "We'll let Grigsby do the hunting and camp locating and burro tending, and I'll cook and wash dishes. That will be our regular system. How about it, Grigsby?"
"Sounds like a pretty good arrangement," agreed the Frémonter, tersely37. "But I'm perfectly38 willing to chip in wherever necessary."
"Get some wood, Charley," bade Mr. Adams. "That's first. There's the axe39." And he proceeded to sort out the food, while Mr. Grigsby busied himself with the bedding.
Charley seized the axe from amidst other tools, and lustily chopped wood from a tree which already had been half demolished40 by other campers. In fact, it looked as though very soon no trees would be left, along this trail; which was a great pity.
Having brought enough wood, he took an iron kettle and trudged to the river. Several miners were at work, along the banks, and on a bar in the middle; one was working right where Charley arrived—a low place, like a miniature gully, where the soil was bare and sandy clay. He had dug a small trench41, and was shoveling some of the loose dirt into his gold pan.
Charley could not help but watch, for a moment.
"Are you getting anything?" he ventured.
The man appeared to be a rough fellow, unshaven and tanned red, in faded blue flannel42 shirt, old trousers belted with a leather strap43, and bare feet. But when he smiled, and pausing a second, answered, he spoke in a pleasant voice, with as good language as from Charley's father or any other cultured person.
"Oh, a few pinches. See——?" and he swirled45 his pan level full of water, until the water and much of the dirt had flowed out over the edges. He did this again—picked out a number of pebbles46 and large particles of dirt—swirled once more, and tilted47 the pan, almost empty, for Charley to see.
Hurrah! Sure enough, there was a thin seam of yellow, lying in the angle of sides and bottom! And breaking it, was a small irregular particle, of blackish hue48 tinted49 with the yellow in spots. Charley's eyes bulged50. Gold! Was this the way they did it?
The man picked out the small lump, and turned it in his fingers.
"One little nugget. Worth probably twenty dollars," he remarked. "The rest of the pans—these are two pans washed out—average about twelve cents." Then, at sight of Charley's excited face, he laughed heartily51. "You look as though you had the gold fever, boy, and had it bad," he said. "But these pans are nothing. They wouldn't sum up more than four dollars a day—and nobody in California would work long for four dollars a day. It's too low down on the river to pan out real wages. I'm just amusing myself. Got a pan? Come in and try your luck. The ground's free."
"I can't, now," stammered52 Charley. "I'm getting water for supper. Maybe I can later, though. Will you be here after a while?"
"Oh, as like as not," answered the man, calmly scraping out the yellow stuff with the point of his knife, and dropping it into the usual brown buckskin sack—which, Charley noted53, bulged a little at the bottom. "I used to be a preacher; now I seem to be a miner. What's your name and where'd you come from and where are you going, as the fashion of asking questions is."
Charley briefly54 told him (for he liked this ex-preacher immensely), but of course he didn't mention that they were on the trail of the Golden West claim. He simply said that they were bound up the American. Then he dipped his water and hastened back to the camp, where he found his father waiting.
"I saw a man panning gold," he announced.
"Getting anything?" asked Mr. Grigsby, not at all excited.
"Yes. A nugget and a lot of dust besides. He said he'd help me pan, if I'd come back after supper. Can I, dad?"
"Oh, I guess you can, if you have no chores," consented his father, with a smile at Mr. Grigsby.
Charley had no idea that his father was such a cook. Mr. Adams went at the matter in great shape—and even Mr. Grigsby, lying near, rewrapping a place on the pack saddle, apparently55 found nothing to criticise56.
Mr. Adams (and it looked odd to see him, a man, busy cooking!) had bread batter57 already started. He took one of the gold pans, dumped into it some flour, a pinch or two of saleratus, and a quart or two of the water. He mixed away with his hands, adding flour and water until the batter was correct, formed it into a loaf, laid it in another pan, well greased with bacon rind, covered it with the first pan, and set the "oven" well down among coals that he had raked out to one side. He poured a little water into the fry pan, or spider, laid in a lot of chunks58 and strips of dried-beef or jerky, and salted it and put it on the fire. He took out a handful of coffee beans that had been roasting in the fry pan before he used the pan for the stew59 (and how good they smelled!), crushed them in a piece of cloth between two stones, and turned them into the coffee-pot.
"You must have been there before," commented Mr. Grigsby.
"Well, I've been a soldier, you know," explained Mr. Adams. "This is soldiers' fare; that's all."
"Strangers, you're new to the diggin's, I reckon," asserted a caller, who strolled in and coolly sat down. He was an exceedingly powerful man—as tall as the Frémonter, broad and heavy, a veritable giant. His shaggy whiskers were bright red. He wore a broad-brimmed black hat, below which hung his red hair to mingle60 with his whiskers; his red shirt was open at the hairy throat, his stained coarse trousers were belted with a piece of rawhide, through which was thrust a knife and pistol, and he was barefooted. He certainly was the biggest and most ferocious-looking man that Charley had ever seen. Yet he acted very harmless.
"Why so?" queried Mr. Adams, examining his bread.
"'Cause you're bread eaters, 'stead o' bein' flap-jackers. By that I take it you've not been up into the flapjack country yon," and he jerked his head in the direction of the foothills and mountains. "When a man makes his squar' meals out o' flapjacks an' sow-belly, then he can call himself a miner."
"You've been there, in the flapjack country, I suppose," invited Mr. Adams.
"Have I, stranger? Wall, I should shout! I was one of the fust into the diggin's after Jim Marshall discivvered color. Fact is, I'm jest down from thar now, only stoppin' hyar at Woodchuck's Delight to rest my feet. They've got rheumatiz powerful bad, wadin' in the water so much."
Charley had noted that many of the men in the camp were barefooted, as if their feet were sore; evidently Woodchuck's Delight was a sort of a resting place.
"How are things at the saw-mill diggin's?" queried Mr. Grigsby.
"Peterin' out, stranger," replied the red-whiskered man. "Quiet as a Quaker Sunday. I was thar about a month ago."
"Is Marshall mining?"
"Not much. He's grumblin', mostly. Thar's a man, who when he struck a big thing jest natter'ly didn't know what to do with it. It made him pore instead o' rich. The rush o' people tromped an' dug all over him, an' he doesn't appear to have enough spunk61 to stand up for himself. He seems to think he owns the hull62 country, 'cause he was thar fust, an' 'cordin' to his notion nobody can mine without his leave. But as matter o' fact, he was too blamed slow to locate any claims; an' when the miners agreed to let him have 100 feet, he didn't get to work on it. He seems to expec' the Government to pay him for his discivvery, while he sits 'round waitin' an' grouchin'. But that sort o' thing doesn't go, out hyar, whar every man must look out for himself an' do his part."
"Nary Golden West, stranger; or any other quartz claim; 'cept that thar was a party through on the trail a day or two ago, inquirin' for that same name—the Golden West. But they didn't say whether it was lode64 or placer."
"Three men, with a bay mule—one man small and dark, long nose?" pursued Mr. Grigsby.
"You've got 'em, stranger."
"Which way were they bound?" asked Mr. Adams.
"I reckon they went on up the American."
Mr. Grigsby and Charley's father exchanged glances; then Mr. Adams spoke quickly, as if to drop the subject.
"Will you have supper with us, sir?" For the bread was done.
"No, thank 'ee; I'm well lined with flapjacks and sowbelly, to last me till mornin'," replied the red-whiskered man. However, he stayed while the party cleaned up everything that Mr. Adams had cooked.
Now it was near the close of twilight65; and Charley, fidgeting anxiously, wondered whether he might not try for gold, just once. His father must have read his thoughts, for he said suddenly:
"Get out your pan, Charley, if you want to, and try your luck. We'll tend to the chores."
Charley needed no second bidding. He grabbed the one clean pan, and down to the river he ran. He fancied that he heard the red-whiskered man call after him, with joking advice, and he knew that other campers, whom he passed, laughed at his eagerness; but who could tell—perhaps he would find gold as well as anybody.
The ex-preacher was still there, in his "diggin's," working away.
"Hello!" he welcomed, cheerily. "Come in and spell me. I'm tired. There's your dirt, all ready for you."
Into the shallow ditch jumped Charley, as bold as an old-timer, and scooped66 some dirt into his pan. The ex-preacher sat down on the side of the ditch and watched him.
"Don't put in too much dirt at once, boy," he cautioned. "Half full is enough. That's right. Now sink it to the rim1 in the water, and swirl44 it around and back again, so the current will carry the dirt off. Don't be afraid to keep it moving. That's it. The gold is heavy, you know; the dirt goes and the gold stays behind. Whoa'p! Let's see. No, it's all gone, this time. You've washed the pan clean. Try again. Take things easy."
That proved to be no easy job, though. The pan was large, the dirt and water weighted it down, and as Charley squatted67 and tried to swirl it around, at just the right level, presently his back and his arms were aching together.
"Slow, now," bade his instructor68, becoming interested. "Raise the pan a bit and swash the water—flip it out along with the dirt, a little at a time. Be careful of that black sand—it's heavy and carries the gold. Here; I'll get rid of the sand for you," and taking the pan he cleverly swirled it, occasionally dipping up more water, until the sand had flowed off.
"There you are!" he laughed, gaily69 thrusting the pan back into Charley's hands. "And there's your color, sure enough. See it? A ten-cent pan, the first time. Good!"
Charley anxiously peered. In the rounded angle of bottom and side, a narrow gleam of yellow! Could it be possible? Yes; there it was, the gold; actually, real gold, and he had washed it—or at least, he had washed most of it.
"Shall I try some more?" he asked, excitedly.
"Sure. Go ahead. We always wash several pans, before we clean up. Now do it all yourself. You know how."
This time Charley succeeded in getting rid of everything but a very little of the sand; and behold70, the yellow seam was deeper. After the third pan he could wait no longer; he out with his buckskin sack, and with the point of his knife scooped his gold in. A little sand went along with it, but who cared?
"We'd better quit for the night, I guess," remarked his new friend, who appeared as delighted as he. "I expect you've made as much as half a dollar. Now it's time for tenderfeet to go to bed."
Through the dusk Charley trudged back to the fire, with his pan and his gold, feeling much indeed like a regular Forty-niner.
His father and Mr. Grigsby were sitting by the fire, talking, when in he burst upon them.
"I got some! I got some!" panted Charley.
"Did you? All right. Show up."
"It's in my sack. See?" And Charley "showed." "I didn't stay to pan much. But I learned how."
"A trace of gold, and considerable sand," pronounced Mr. Grigsby. "But that's enough, for a starter—only you want to dry that stuff out, lad, and blow the sand away. Understand?"
"We've decided71 to push right along, Charley," said his father, just as if he and Mr. Grigsby considered Charley as much of a partner as they were, "up the trail to Marshall's place; then we can turn north for the north branch of the American, or for the Yuba and the Feather beyond. They're all mining districts. Do you agree?"
His father laughed.
"Certainly. By the time the mine is reached, may you'll have filled your sack."
Charley yawned mightily73. The future seemed golden bright—yet he felt as though he couldn't keep awake long enough to discuss it. His father yawned; so did Mr. Grigsby; already the majority of the campers were stretched out in their blankets, some of them snoring; and to bed went the Adams party, also.
Charley removed his boots and trousers and flannel shirt; and rolling himself in his army blanket used them as a pillow—the fashionable scheme, he noticed. He was asleep so soon, and slept so "fast," that he was perfectly astonished to wake into daylight and breakfast time.
The camp of Woodchuck's Delight was breaking apart, for a number of its tender-footed inhabitants had started on, up or down the trail. As his father and Mr. Grigsby were packing the burro, the red-whiskered giant of the evening before passed by, and waved an "Adios."
"It's almost time that we met some of the overland crowd, isn't it?" remarked Mr. Adams, as they took up the march, in the same order as before.
"Not quite," answered Mr. Grigsby. "That's a four months' trip, and I don't reckon any of 'em got away much before the middle of April. It'll be two or three weeks or more, yet, when the first of them cross the range."
"Will they all come this way?" appealed Charley. Thirty thousand there were, so people said; and what a procession they would make!
"No. There's that southern trail, around by the Gila, and to San Diego or up through Los Angeles. And the northern trail, to Oregon and then down. But the Eastern papers advised taking the Oregon trail up the Platte and across South Pass beyond Fort Laramie, to Fort Hall; then south to the Mary's River that Frémont named the Humboldt, down the Humboldt to the Sinks, over to the Truckee and across the Sierra to the head of the north fork of the American—the way we came in with Frémont in Forty-five. And there's that other way, about our trail of Forty-four: by the Carson River, which is south of the Truckee, over Carson's Pass of the Sierra, to the South Fork of the American—which would strike down this trail, like as not, to Sacramento. But in my opinion the trail up the Truckee to the North Fork is the best, and the bulk of the people will come that way."
So saying, Mr. Grigsby shouldered his long rifle, and strode out, to lead. Charley occupied the middle, with the burro. His father limped in the rear.
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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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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rawhide
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| n.生牛皮 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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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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shovels
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| n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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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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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shimmered
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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queries
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| n.问题( query的名词复数 )；疑问；询问；问号v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的第三人称单数 )；询问 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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unevenly
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| adv.不均匀的 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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unpack
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| vt.打开包裹（或行李），卸货 | |
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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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tersely
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| adv. 简捷地, 简要地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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demolished
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| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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bulged
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| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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criticise
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| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
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batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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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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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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spunk
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| n.勇气，胆量 | |
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hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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quartz
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| n.石英 | |
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lode
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| n.矿脉 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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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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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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