On every hand was activity. Women and children were in the fields as well as men. The land was turned endlessly over and over. They seemed never to let it rest. And it rewarded them. It must reward them, or their children would not be able to go to school, nor would so many of them be able to drive by in rattletrap, second-hand5 buggies or in stout6 light wagons7.
“Look at their faces,” Saxon said. “They are happy and contented9. They haven't faces like the people in our neighborhood after the strikes began.”
“Oh, sure, they got a good thing,” Billy agreed. “You can see it stickin' out all over them. But they needn't get chesty with ME, I can tell you that much—just because they've jiggerooed us out of our land an' everything.”
“No, they're not, come to think of it. All the same, they ain't so wise. I bet I could tell 'em a few about horses.”
It was sunset when they entered the little town of Niles. Billy, who had been silent for the last half mile, hesitantly ventured a suggestion.
“Say... I could put up for a room in the hotel just as well as not. What d 'ye think?”
But Saxon shook her head emphatically.
“How long do you think our twenty dollars will last at that rate? Besides, the only way to begin is to begin at the beginning. We didn't plan sleeping in hotels.”
“All right,” he gave in. “I'm game. I was just thinkin' about you.”
“Then you'd better think I'm game, too,” she flashed forgivingly. “And now we'll have to see about getting things for supper.”
They bought a round steak, potatoes, onions, and a dozen eating apples, then went out from the town to the fringe of trees and brush that advertised a creek11. Beside the trees, on a sand bank, they pitched camp. Plenty of dry wood lay about, and Billy whistled genially12 while he gathered and chopped. Saxon, keen to follow his every mood, was cheered by the atrocious discord13 on his lips. She smiled to herself as she spread the blankets, with the tarpaulin14 underneath15, for a table, having first removed all twigs16 from the sand. She had much to learn in the matter of cooking over a camp-fire, and made fair progress, discovering, first of all, that control of the fire meant far more than the size of it. When the coffee was boiled, she settled the grounds with a part-cup of cold water and placed the pot on the edge of the coals where it would keep hot and yet not boil. She fried potato dollars and onions in the same pan, but separately, and set them on top of the coffee pot in the tin plate she was to eat from, covering it with Billy's inverted17 plate. On the dry hot pan, in the way that delighted Billy, she fried the steak. This completed, and while Billy poured the coffee, she served the steak, putting the dollars and onions back into the frying pan for a moment to make them piping hot again.
“What more d'ye want than this?” Billy challenged with deep-toned satisfaction, in the pause after his final cup of coffee, while he rolled a cigarette. He lay on his side, full length, resting on his elbow. The fire was burning brightly, and Saxon's color was heightened by the flickering18 flames. “Now our folks, when they was on the move, had to be afraid for Indians, and wild animals and all sorts of things; an' here we are, as safe as bugs20 in a rug. Take this sand. What better bed could you ask? Soft as feathers. Say—you look good to me, heap little squaw. I bet you don't look an inch over sixteen right now, Mrs. Babe-in-the-Woods.”
“Don't I?” she glowed, with a flirt21 of the head sideward and a white flash of teeth. “If you weren't smoking a cigarette I'd ask you if your mother knew you're out, Mr. Babe-in-the-Sandbank.”
“Say,” he began, with transparently22 feigned23 seriousness. “I want to ask you something, if you don't mind. Now, of course, I don't want to hurt your feelin's or nothin', but just the same there's something important I'd like to know.”
“Well, what is it?” she inquired, after a fruitless wait.
“Well, it's just this, Saxon. I like you like anything an' all that, but here's night come on, an' we're a thousand miles from anywhere, and—well, what I wanta know is: are we really an' truly married, you an' me?”
“Really and truly,” she assured him. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing; but I'd kind a-forgotten, an' I was gettin' embarrassed, you know, because if we wasn't, seein' the way I was brought up, this'd be no place—”
“That will do you,” she said severely24. “And this is just the time and place for you to get in the firewood for morning while I wash up the dishes and put the kitchen in order.”
He started to obey, but paused to throw his arm about her and draw her close. Neither spoke25, but when he went his way Saxon's breast was fluttering and a song of thanksgiving breathed on her lips.
The night had come on, dim with the light of faint stars. But these had disappeared behind clouds that seemed to have arisen from nowhere. It was the beginning of California Indian summer. The air was warm, with just the first hint of evening chill, and there was no wind.
“I've a feeling as if we've just started to live,” Saxon said, when Billy, his firewood collected, joined her on the blankets before the fire. “I've learned more to-day than ten years in Oakland.” She drew a long breath and braced27 her shoulders. “Farming's a bigger subject than I thought.”
Billy said nothing. With steady eyes he was staring into the fire, and she knew he was turning something over in his mind.
“What is it,” she asked, when she saw he had reached a conclusion, at the same time resting her hand on the back of his.
“Just been framin' up that ranch28 of ourn,” he answered. “It's all well enough, these dinky farmlets. They'll do for foreigners. But we Americans just gotta have room. I want to be able to look at a hilltop an' know it's my land, and know it's my land down the other side an' up the next hilltop, an' know that over beyond that, down alongside some creek, my mares are most likely grazin', an' their little colts grazin' with 'em or kickin' up their heels. You know, there's money in raisin29' horses—especially the big workhorses that run to eighteen hundred an' two thousand pounds. They're payin' for 'em, in the cities, every day in the year, seven an' eight hundred a pair, matched geldings, four years old. Good pasture an' plenty of it, in this kind of a climate, is all they need, along with some sort of shelter an' a little hay in long spells of bad weather. I never thought of it before, but let me tell you that this ranch proposition is beginnin' to look good to ME.”
Saxon was all excitement. Here was new information on the cherished subject, and, best of all, Billy was the authority. Still better, he was taking an interest himself.
“There'll be room for that and for everything on a quarter section,” she encouraged.
“Sure thing. Around the house we'll have vegetables an' fruit and chickens an' everything, just like the Porchugeeze, an' plenty of room beside to walk around an' range the horses.”
“But won't the colts cost money, Billy?”
“Not much. The cobblestones eat horses up fast. That's where I'll get my brood mares, from the ones knocked out by the city. I know THAT end of it. They sell 'em at auction31, an' they're good for years an' years, only no good on the cobbles any more.”
There ensued a long pause. In the dying fire both were busy visioning the farm to be.
“It's pretty still, ain't it?” Billy said, rousing himself at last. He gazed about him. “An' black as a stack of black cats.” He shivered, buttoned his coat, and tossed several sticks on the fire. “Just the same, it's the best kind of a climate in the world. Many's the time, when I was a little kid, I've heard my father brag32 about California's bein' a blanket climate. He went East, once, an' staid a summer an' a winter, an' got all he wanted. Never again for him.”
“My mother said there never was such a land for climate. How wonderful it must have seemed to them after crossing the deserts and mountains. They called it the land of milk and honey. The ground was so rich that all they needed to do was scratch it, Cady used to say.”
“And wild game everywhere,” Billy contributed. “Mr. Roberts, the one that adopted my father, he drove cattle from the San Joaquin to the Columbia river. He had forty men helpin' him, an' all they took along was powder an' salt. They lived off the game they shot.”
“The hills were full of deer, and my mother saw whole herds33 of elk34 around Santa Rosa. Some time we'll go there, Billy. I've always wanted to.”
“And when my father was a young man, somewhere up north of Sacramento, in a creek called Cache Slough35, the tules was full of grizzlies36. He used to go in an' shoot 'em. An' when they caught 'em in the open, he an' the Mexicans used to ride up an' rope them—catch them with lariats, you know. He said a horse that wasn't afraid of grizzlies fetched ten times as much as any other horse. An' panthers!—all the old folks called 'em painters an' catamounts an' varmints. Yes, we'll go to Santa Rosa some time. Maybe we won't like that land down the coast, an' have to keep on hikin'.”
By this time the fire had died down, and Saxon had finished brushing and braiding her hair. Their bed-going preliminaries were simple, and in a few minutes they were side by side under the blankets. Saxon closed her eyes, but could not sleep. On the contrary, she had never been more wide awake. She had never slept out of doors in her life, and by no exertion37 of will could she overcome the strangeness of it. In addition, she was stiffened38 from the long trudge39, and the sand, to her surprise, was anything but soft. An hour passed. She tried to believe that Billy was asleep, but felt certain he was not. The sharp crackle of a dying ember startled her. She was confident that Billy had moved slightly.
“Billy,” she whispered, “are you awake?”
“Yep,” came his low answer, “—an' thinkin' this sand is harder'n a cement floor. It's one on me, all right. But who'd a-thought it?”
Both shifted their postures40 slightly, but vain was the attempt to escape from the dull, aching contact of the sand.
An abrupt41, metallic42, whirring noise of some nearby cricket gave Saxon another startle. She endured the sound for some minutes, until Billy broke forth43.
“Say, that gets my goat whatever it is.”
“Do you think it's a rattlesnake?” she asked, maintaining a calmness she did not feel.
“Just what I've been thinkin'.”
“I saw two, in the window of Bowman's Drug Store. An' you know, Billy, they've got a hollow fang44, and when they stick it into you the poison runs down the hollow.”
“Br-r-r-r,” Billy shivered, in fear that was not altogether mockery. “Certain death, everybody says, unless you're a Bosco. Remember him?”
“He eats 'em alive! He eats 'em alive! Bosco! Bosco!” Saxon responded, mimicking45 the cry of a side-show barker. “Just the same, all Bosco's rattlers had the poison-sacs cut outa them. They must a-had. Gee30! It's funny I can't get asleep. I wish that damned thing'd close its trap. I wonder if it is a rattlesnake.”
“Then where did Bosco get his?” Billy demanded with unimpeachable47 logic48. “An' why don't you get to sleep?”
“Because it's all new, I guess,” was her reply. “You see, I never camped out in my life.”
“Neither did I. An' until now I always thought it was a lark49.” He changed his position on the maddening sand and sighed heavily. “But we'll get used to it in time, I guess. What other folks can do, we can, an' a mighty50 lot of 'em has camped out. It's all right. Here we are, free an' independent, no rent to pay, our own bosses—”
He stopped abruptly51. From somewhere in the brush came an intermittent52 rustling53. When they tried to locate it, it mysteriously ceased, and when the first hint of drowsiness54 stole upon them the rustling as mysteriously recommenced.
“It sounds like something creeping up on us,” Saxon suggested, snuggling closer to Billy.
“Well, it ain't a wild Indian, at all events,” was the best he could offer in the way of comfort. He yawned deliberately55. “Aw, shucks! What's there to be scared of? Think of what all the pioneers went through.”
“I was just thinkin' of a yarn57 my father used to tell about,” he explained. “It was about old Susan Kleghorn, one of the Oregon pioneer women. Wall-Eyed Susan, they used to call her; but she could shoot to beat the band. Once, on the Plains, the wagon8 train she was in, was attacked by Indians. They got all the wagons in a circle, an' all hands an' the oxen inside, an' drove the Indians off, killin' a lot of 'em. They was too strong that way, so what'd the Indians do, to draw 'em out into the open, but take two white girls, captured from some other train, an' begin to torture 'em. They done it just out of gunshot, but so everybody could see. The idea was that the white men couldn't stand it, an' would rush out, an' then the Indians'd have 'em where they wanted 'em.
“The white men couldn't do a thing. If they rushed out to save the girls, they'd be finished, an' then the Indians'd rush the train. It meant death to everybody. But what does old Susan do, but get out an old, long-barreled Kentucky rifle. She rams58 down about three times the regular load of powder, takes aim at a big buck59 that's pretty busy at the torturin', an' bangs away. It knocked her clean over backward, an' her shoulder was lame19 all the rest of the way to Oregon, but she dropped the big Indian deado. He never knew what struck 'm.
“But that wasn't the yarn I wanted to tell. It seems old Susan liked John Barleycorn. She'd souse herself to the ears every chance she got. An' her sons an' daughters an' the old man had to be mighty careful not to leave any around where she could get hands on it.”
“On what?” asked Saxon.
“On John Barleycorn.—Oh, you ain't on to that. It's the old fashioned name for whisky. Well, one day all the folks was goin' away—that was over somewhere at a place called Bodega, where they'd settled after comin' down from Oregon. An' old Susan claimed her rheumatics was hurtin' her an' so she couldn't go. But the family was on. There was a two-gallon demijohn of whisky in the house. They said all right, but before they left they sent one of the grandsons to climb a big tree in the barnyard, where he tied the demijohn sixty feet from the ground. Just the same, when they come home that night they found Susan on the kitchen floor dead to the world.”
“And she'd climbed the tree after all,” Saxon hazarded, when Billy had shown no inclination60 of going on.
“Not on your life,” he laughed jubilantly. “All she'd done was to put a washtub on the ground square under the demijohn. Then she got out her old rifle an' shot the demijohn to smithereens, an' all she had to do was lap the whisky outa the tub.”
Again Saxon was drowsing, when the rustling sound was heard, this time closer. To her excited apprehension61 there was something stealthy about it, and she imagined a beast of prey62 creeping upon them. “Billy,” she whispered.
“Yes, I'm a-listenin' to it,” came his wide awake answer.
“Mightn't that be a panther, or maybe... a wildcat?”
“It can't be. All the varmints was killed off long ago. This is peaceable farmin' country.”
A vagrant63 breeze sighed through the trees and made Saxon shiver. The mysterious cricket-noise ceased with suspicious abruptness64. Then, from the rustling noise, ensued a dull but heavy thump65 that caused both Saxon and Billy to sit up in the blankets. There were no further sounds, and they lay down again, though the very silence now seemed ominous66.
“Huh,” Billy muttered with relief. “As though I don't know what it was. It was a rabbit. I've heard tame ones bang their hind26 feet down on the floor that way.”
In vain Saxon tried to win sleep. The sand grew harder with the passage of time. Her flesh and her bones ached from contact with it. And, though her reason flouted67 any possibility of wild dangers, her fancy went on picturing them with unflagging zeal68.
A new sound commenced. It was neither a rustling nor a rattling69, and it tokened some large body passing through the brush. Sometimes twigs crackled and broke, and, once, they heard bush-branches press aside and spring back into place.
“If that other thing was a panther, this is an elephant,” was Billy's uncheering opinion. “It's got weight. Listen to that. An' it's comin' nearer.”
There were frequent stoppages, then the sounds would begin again, always louder, always closer. Billy sat up in the blankets once more, passing one arm around Saxon, who had also sat up.
“I ain't slept a wink,” he complained. “—There it goes again. I wish I could see.”
“It makes a noise big enough for a grizzly,” Saxon chattered70, partly from nervousness, partly from the chill of the night.
“It ain't no grasshopper71, that's sure.”
Billy started to leave the blankets, but Saxon caught his arm.
“What are you going to do?”
“Oh, I ain't scairt none,” he answered. “But, honest to God, this is gettin' on my nerves. If I don't find what that thing is, it'll give me the willies. I'm just goin' to reconnoiter. I won't go close.”
So intensely dark was the night, that the moment Billy crawled beyond the reach of her hand he was lost to sight. She sat and waited. The sound had ceased, though she could follow Billy's progress by the cracking of dry twigs and limbs. After a few moments he returned and crawled under the blankets.
“I scared it away, I guess. It's got better ears, an' when it heard me comin' it skinned out most likely. I did my dangdest, too, not to make a sound.—O Lord, there it goes again.”
They sat up. Saxon nudged Billy.
“There,” she warned, in the faintest of whispers. “I can hear it breathing. It almost made a snort.”
A dead branch cracked loudly, and so near at hand, that both of them jumped shamelessly.
“I ain't goin' to stand any more of its foolin',” Billy declared wrathfully. “It'll be on top of us if I don't.”
“Yell the top of my head off. I'll get a fall outa whatever it is.”
He drew a deep breath and emitted a wild yell.
The result far exceeded any expectation he could have entertained, and Saxon's heart leaped up in sheer panic. On the instant the darkness erupted into terrible sound and movement. There were trashings of underbrush and lunges and plunges73 of heavy bodies in different directions. Fortunately for their ease of mind, all these sounds receded74 and died away.
“An' what d'ye think of that?” Billy broke the silence.
“Gee! all the fight fans used to say I was scairt of nothin'. Just the same I'm glad they ain't seein' me to-night.”
This was easy. Under the ashes were live embers which quickly ignited the wood he threw on. A few stars were peeping out in the misty76 zenith. He looked up at them, deliberated, and started to move away.
“Where are you going now?” Saxon called.
“Oh, I've got an idea,” he replied noncommittally, and walked boldly away beyond the circle of the firelight.
Saxon sat with the blankets drawn77 closely under her chin, and admired his courage. He had not even taken the hatchet78, and he was going in the direction in which the disturbance79 had died away.
“The sons-of-guns, they got my goat all right. I'll be scairt of my own shadow next.—What was they? Huh! You couldn't guess in a thousand years. A bunch of half-grown calves81, an' they was worse scairt than us.”
He smoked a cigarette by the fire, then rejoined Saxon under the blankets.
“A hell of a farmer I'll make,” he chafed82, “when a lot of little calves can scare the stuffin' outa me. I bet your father or mine wouldn't a-batted an eye. The stock has gone to seed, that's what it has.”
“No, it hasn't,” Saxon defended. “The stock is all right. We're just as able as our folks ever were, and we're healthier on top of it. We've been brought up different, that's all. We've lived in cities all our lives. We know the city sounds and thugs, but we don't know the country ones. Our training has been unnatural83, that's the whole thing in a nutshell. Now we're going in for natural training. Give us a little time, and we'll sleep as sound out of doors as ever your father or mine did.”
“But not on sand,” Billy groaned.
“We won't try. That's one thing, for good and all, we've learned the very first time. And now hush84 up and go to sleep.”
Their fears had vanished, but the sand, receiving now their undivided attention, multiplied its unyieldingness. Billy dozed85 off first, and roosters were crowing somewhere in the distance when Saxon's eyes closed. But they could not escape the sand, and their sleep was fitful.
At the first gray of dawn, Billy crawled out and built a roaring fire. Saxon drew up to it shiveringly. They were hollow-eyed and weary. Saxon began to laugh. Billy joined sulkily, then brightened up as his eyes chanced upon the coffee pot, which he immediately put on to boil.
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1
diverge
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| v.分叉，分歧，离题，使...岔开，使转向 | |
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cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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7
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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9
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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demurred
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| v.表示异议，反对( demur的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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13
discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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transparently
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| 明亮地，显然地，易觉察地 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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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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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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raisin
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| n.葡萄干 | |
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gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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auction
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| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
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brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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elk
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| n.麋鹿 | |
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slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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grizzlies
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| 北美洲灰熊( grizzly的名词复数 ) | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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trudge
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| v.步履艰难地走；n.跋涉，费力艰难的步行 | |
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postures
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| 姿势( posture的名词复数 )； 看法； 态度； 立场 | |
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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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42
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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44
fang
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| n.尖牙，犬牙 | |
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mimicking
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的现在分词 )；酷似 | |
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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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unimpeachable
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| adj.无可指责的；adv.无可怀疑地 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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54
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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rams
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| n.公羊( ram的名词复数 )；(R-)白羊（星）座；夯；攻城槌v.夯实（土等）( ram的第三人称单数 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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abruptness
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| n. 突然，唐突 | |
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thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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flouted
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| v.藐视，轻视( flout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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grasshopper
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| n.蚱蜢，蝗虫，蚂蚱 | |
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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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plunges
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| n.跳进，投入vt.使投入，使插入，使陷入vi.投入，跳进，陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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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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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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83
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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84
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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85
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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