Everybody had Fuzzies now, and Pappy Jack7 only had Baby. He was lying on the floor of the parlor8, teaching Baby to tie knots in a piece of string. Gus Brannhard, who spent most of the day in the office in the Central Courts building which had been furnished to him as special prosecutor9, was lolling in an armchair in red-and-blue pajamas10, smoking a cigar, drinking coffee—his whisky consumption was down to a couple of drinks a day—and studying texts on two reading screens at once, making an occasional remark into a stenomemophone. Gerd was at the desk, spoiling notepaper in an effort to work something out by symbolic11 logic12. Suddenly he crumpled13 a sheet and threw it across the room, cursing. Brannhard looked away from his screens.
“Trouble, Gerd?”
Gerd cursed again. “How the devil can I tell whether Fuzzies generalize?” he demanded. “How can I tell whether they form abstract ideas? How can I prove, even, that they have ideas at all? Hell’s blazes, how can I even prove, to your satisfaction, that I think consciously?”
“Working on that idea I mentioned?” Brannhard asked.
“I was. It seemed like a good idea but….”
“Suppose we go back to specific instances of Fuzzy behavior, and present them as evidence of sapience14?” Brannhard asked. “That funeral, for instance.”
“They’ll still insist that we define sapience.”
The communication screen began buzzing. Baby Fuzzy looked up disinterestedly15, and then went back to trying to untie16 a figure-eight knot he had tied. Jack shoved himself to his feet and put the screen on. It was Max Fane, and for the first time that he could remember, the Colonial Marshal was excited.
“Jack, have you had any news on the screen lately?”
“No. Something turn up?”
“God, yes! The cops are all over the city hunting the Fuzzies; they have orders to shoot on sight. Nick Emmert was just on the air with a reward offer—five hundred sols apiece, dead or alive.”
It took a few seconds for that to register. Then he became frightened. Gus and Gerd were both on their feet and crowding to the screen behind him.
“They have some bum17 from that squatters’ camp over on the East Side who claims the Fuzzies beat up his ten-year-old daughter,” Fane was saying. “They have both of them at police headquarters, and they’ve handed the story out to Zarathustra News, and Planetwide Coverage18. Of course, they’re Company-controlled; they’re playing it for all it’s worth.”
“Have they been veridicated?” Brannhard demanded.
“No, and the city cops are keeping them under cover. The girl says she was playing outdoors and these Fuzzies jumped her and began beating her with sticks. Her injuries are listed as multiple bruises19, fractured wrist and general shock.”
“I don’t believe it! They wouldn’t attack a child.”
“I want to talk to that girl and her father,” Brannhard was saying. “And I’m going to demand that they make their statements under veridication. This thing’s a frameup, Max; I’d bet my ears on it. Timing’s just right; only a week till the trial.”
Maybe the Fuzzies had wanted the child to play with them, and she’d gotten frightened and hurt one of them. A ten-year-old human child would look dangerously large to a Fuzzy, and if they thought they were menaced they would fight back savagely20.
They were still alive and in the city. That was one thing. But they were in worse danger than they had ever been; that was another. Fane was asking Brannhard how soon he could be dressed.
“Five minutes? Good, I’ll be along to pick you up,” he said. “Be seeing you.”
Jack hurried into the bedroom he and Brannhard shared; he kicked off his moccasins and began pulling on his boots. Brannhard, pulling his trousers up over his pajama pants, wanted to know where he thought he was going.
“With you. I’ve got to find them before some dumb son of a Khooghra shoots them.”
“You stay here,” Gus ordered. “Stay by the communication screen, and keep the viewscreen on for news. But don’t stop putting your boots on; you may have to get out of here fast if I call you and tell you they’ve been located. I’ll call you as soon as I get anything definite.”
Gerd had the screen on for news, and was getting Planetwide, openly owned and operated by the Company. The newscaster was wrought21 up about the brutal22 attack on the innocent child, but he was having trouble focusing the blame. After all, who’d let the Fuzzies escape in the first place? And even a skilled semanticist had trouble in making anything called a Fuzzy sound menacing. At least he gave particulars, true or not.
The child, Lolita Lurkin, had been playing outside her home at about twenty-one hundred when she had suddenly been set upon by six Fuzzies, armed with clubs. Without provocation23, they had dragged her down and beaten her severely24. Her screams had brought her father, and he had driven the Fuzzies away. Police had brought both the girl and her father, Oscar Lurkin, to headquarters, where they had told their story. City police, Company police and constabulary troopers and parties of armed citizens were combing the eastern side of the city; Resident General Emmert had acted at once to offer a reward of five thousand sols apiece….
“The kid’s lying, and if they ever get a veridicator on her, they’ll prove it”, he said. “Emmert, or Grego, or the two of them together, bribed25 those people to tell that story.”
“Oh, I take that for granted,” Gerd said. “I know that place. Junktown. Ruth does a lot of work there for juvenile26 court.” He stopped briefly27, pain in his eyes, and then continued: “You can hire anybody to do anything over there for a hundred sols, especially if the cops are fixed28 in advance.”
He shifted to the Interworld News frequency; they were covering the Fuzzy hunt from an aircar. The shanties29 and parked airjalopies of Junktown were floodlighted from above; lines of men were beating the brush and poking30 among them. Once a car passed directly below the pickup31, a man staring at the ground from it over a machine gun.
“Wooo! Am I glad I’m not in that mess!” Gerd exclaimed. “Anybody sees something he thinks is a Fuzzy and half that gang’ll massacre32 each other in ten seconds.”
“I hope they do!”
Interworld News was pro-Fuzzy; the commentator33 in the car was being extremely sarcastic34 about the whole thing. Into the middle of one view of a rifle-bristling line of beaters somebody in the studio cut a view of the Fuzzies, taken at the camp, looking up appealingly while waiting for breakfast. “These,” a voice said, “are the terrible monsters against whom all these brave men are protecting us.”
A few moments later, a rifle flash and a bang, and then a fusillade brought Jack’s heart into his throat. The pickup car jetted toward it; by the time it reached the spot, the shooting had stopped, and a crowd was gathering35 around something white on the ground. He had to force himself to look, then gave a shuddering36 breath of relief. It was a zaragoat, a three-horned domesticated37 ungulate.
“Oh-Oh! Some squatter’s milk supply finished.” The commentator laughed. “Not the first one tonight either. Attorney General—former Chief Prosecutor—O’Brien’s going to have quite a few suits against the administration to defend as a result of this business.”
“He’s going to have a goddamn thundering big one from Jack Holloway!”
The communication screen buzzed; Gerd snapped it on.
“I just talked to Judge Pendarvis,” Gus Brannhard reported out of it. “He’s issuing an order restraining Emmert from paying any reward except for Fuzzies turned over alive and uninjured to Marshal Fane. And he’s issuing a warning that until the status of the Fuzzies is determined38, anybody killing39 one will face charges of murder.”
“That’s fine, Gus! Have you seen the girl or her father yet?”
Brannhard snarled40 angrily. “The girl’s in the Company hospital, in a private room. The doctors won’t let anybody see her. I think Emmert’s hiding the father in the Residency. And I haven’t seen the two cops who brought them in, or the desk sergeant41 who booked the complaint, or the detective lieutenant42 who was on duty here. They’ve all lammed out. Max has a couple of men over in Junktown, trying to find out who called the cops in the first place. We may get something out of that.”
The Chief Justice’s action was announced a few minutes later; it got to the hunters a few minutes after that and the Fuzzy hunt began falling apart. The City and Company police dropped out immediately. Most of the civilians43, hoping to grab five thousand sols’ worth of live Fuzzy, stayed on for twenty minutes, and so, apparently44 to control them, did the constabulary. Then the reward was cancelled, the airborne floodlights went off and the whole thing broke up.
Gus Brannhard came in shortly afterward45, starting to undress as soon as he heeled the door shut after him. When he had his jacket and neckcloth off, he dropped into a chair, filled a water tumbler with whisky, gulped46 half of it and then began pulling off his boots.
“If that drink has a kid sister, I’ll take it,” Gerd muttered. “What happened, Gus?”
Brannhard began to curse. “The whole thing’s a fake; it stinks48 from here to Nifflheim. It would stink47 on Nifflheim.” He picked up a cigar butt49 he had laid aside when Fane’s call had come in and relighted it. “We found the woman who called the police. Neighbor; she says she saw Lurkin come home drunk, and a little later she heard the girl screaming. She says he beats her up every time he gets drunk, which is about five times a week, and she’d made up her mind to stop it the next chance she got. She denied having seen anything that even looked like a Fuzzy anywhere around.”
The excitement of the night before had incubated a new brood of Fuzzy reports; Jack went to the marshal’s office to interview the people making them. The first dozen were of a piece with the ones that had come in originally. Then he talked to a young man who had something of different quality.
“I saw them as plain as I’m seeing you, not more than fifty feet away,” he said. “I had an autocarbine, and I pulled up on them, but gosh, I couldn’t shoot them. They were just like little people, Mr. Holloway, and they looked so scared and helpless. So I held over their heads and let off a two-second burst to scare them away before anybody else saw them and shot them.”
“Well, son, I’d like to shake your hand for that. You know, you thought you were throwing away a lot of money there. How many did you see?”
“Well, only four. I’d heard that there were six, but the other two could have been back in the brush where I didn’t see them.”
He pointed50 out on the map where it had happened. There were three other people who had actually seen Fuzzies; none were sure how many, but they were all positive about locations and times. Plotting the reports on the map, it was apparent that the Fuzzies were moving north and west across the outskirts51 of the city.
Brannhard showed up for lunch at the hotel, still swearing, but half amusedly.
“They’ve exhumed52 Ham O’Brien, and they’ve put him to work harassing53 us,” he said. “Whole flock of civil suits and dangerous-nuisance complaints and that sort of thing; idea’s to keep me amused with them while Leslie Coombes is working up his case for the trial. Even tried to get the manager here to evict54 Baby; I threatened him with a racial-discrimination suit, and that stopped that. And I just filed suit against the Company for seven million sols on behalf of the Fuzzies—million apiece for them and a million for their lawyer.”
“This evening,” Jack said, “I’m going out in a car with a couple of Max’s deputies. We’re going to take Baby, and we’ll have a loud-speaker on the car.” He unfolded the city map. “They seem to be traveling this way; they ought to be about here, and with Baby at the speaker, we ought to attract their attention.”
They didn’t see anything, though they kept at it till dusk. Baby had a wonderful time with the loud-speaker; when he yeeked into it, he produced an ear-splitting noise, until the three humans in the car flinched55 every time he opened his mouth. It affected56 dogs too; as the car moved back and forth57, it was followed by a chorus of howling and baying on the ground.
The next day, there were some scattered58 reports, mostly of small thefts. A blanket spread on the grass behind a house had vanished. A couple of cushions had been taken from a porch couch. A frenzied59 mother reported having found her six-year-old son playing with some Fuzzies; when she had rushed to rescue him, the Fuzzies had scampered60 away and the child had begun weeping. Jack and Gerd rushed to the scene. The child’s story, jumbled61 and imagination-colored, was definite on one point—the Fuzzies had been nice to him and hadn’t hurt him. They got a recording62 of that on the air at once.
When they got back to the hotel, Gus Brannhard was there, bubbling with glee.
“The Chief Justice gave me another job of special prosecuting,” he said. “I’m to conduct an investigation63 into the possibility that this thing, the other night, was a frame-up, and I’m to prepare complaints against anybody who’s done anything prosecutable64. I have authority to hold hearings, and subpoena65 witnesses, and interrogate66 them under veridication. Max Fane has specific orders to cooperate. We’re going to start, tomorrow, with Chief of Police Dumont and work down. And maybe we can work up, too, as far as Nick Emmert and Victor Grego.” He gave a rumbling67 laugh. “Maybe that’ll give Leslie Coombes something to worry about.”
Gerd brought the car down beside the rectangular excavation68. It was fifty feet square and twenty feet deep, and still going deeper, with a power shovel69 in it and a couple of dump scows beside. Five or six men in coveralls and ankle boots advanced to meet them as they got out.
“Good morning, Mr. Holloway,” one of them said. “It’s right down over the edge of the hill. We haven’t disturbed anything.”
“Mind running over what you saw again? My partner here wasn’t in when you called.”
The foreman turned to Gerd. “We put off a couple of shots about an hour ago. Some of the men, who’d gone down over the edge of the hill, saw these Fuzzies run out from under that rock ledge70 down there, and up the hollow, that way.” He pointed. “They called me, and I went down for a look, and saw where they’d been camping. The rock’s pretty hard here, and we used pretty heavy charges. Shock waves in the ground was what scared them.”
They started down a path through the flower-dappled tall grass toward the edge of the hill, and down past the gray outcropping of limestone71 that formed a miniature bluff72 twenty feet high and a hundred in length. Under an overhanging ledge, they found two cushions, a red-and-gray blanket, and some odds73 and ends of old garments that looked as though they had once been used for polishing rags. There was a broken kitchen spoon, and a cold chisel74, and some other metal articles.
“That’s it, all right. I talked to the people who lost the blanket and the cushions. They must have made camp last night, after your gang stopped work; the blasting chased them out. You say you saw them go up that way?” he asked, pointing up the little stream that came down from the mountains to the north.
The stream was deep and rapid, too much so for easy fording by Fuzzies; they’d follow it back into the foothills. He took everybody’s names and thanked them. If he found the Fuzzies himself and had to pay off on an information-received basis, it would take a mathematical genius to decide how much reward to pay whom.
“Gerd, if you were a Fuzzy, where would you go up there?” he asked.
Gerd looked up the stream that came rushing down from among the wooded foothills.
“There are a couple more houses farther up,” he said. “I’d get above them. Then I’d go up one of those side ravines, and get up among the rocks, where the damnthings couldn’t get me. Of course, there are no damnthings this close to town, but they wouldn’t know that.”
“We’ll need a few more cars. I’ll call Colonel Ferguson and see what he can do for me. Max is going to have his hands full with this investigation Gus started.”
Piet Dumont, the Mallorysport chief of police, might have been a good cop once, but for as long as Gus Brannhard had known him, he had been what he was now—an empty shell of unsupported arrogance75, with a sagging76 waistline and a puffy face that tried to look tough and only succeeded in looking unpleasant. He was sitting in a seat that looked like an old fashioned electric chair, or like one of those instruments of torture to which beauty-shop customers submit themselves. There was a bright conical helmet on his head, and electrodes had been clamped to various portions of his anatomy77. On the wall behind him was a circular screen which ought to have been a calm turquoise78 blue, but which was flickering80 from dark blue through violet to mauve. That was simple nervous tension and guilt81 and anger at the humiliation82 of being subjected to veridicated interrogation. Now and then there would be a stabbing flicker79 of bright red as he toyed mentally with some deliberate misstatement of fact.
“You know, yourself, that the Fuzzies didn’t hurt that girl,” Brannhard told him.
“I don’t know anything of the kind,” the police chief retorted. “All I know’s what was reported to me.”
That had started out a bright red; gradually it faded into purple. Evidently Piet Dumont was adopting a rules-of-evidence definition of truth.
“Who told you about it?”
“Luther Woller. Detective lieutenant on duty at the time.”
The veridicator agreed that that was the truth and not much of anything but the truth.
“But you know that what really happened was that Lurkin beat the girl himself, and Woller persuaded them both to say the Fuzzies did it,” Max Fane said.
“I don’t know anything of the kind!” Dumont almost yelled. The screen blazed red. “All I know’s what they told me; nobody said anything else.” Red and blue, juggling83 in a typical quibbling pattern. “As far as I know, it was the Fuzzies done it.”
“Now, Piet,” Fane told him patiently. “You’ve used this same veridicator here often enough to know you can’t get away with lying on it. Woller’s making you the patsy for this, and you know that, too. Isn’t it true, now, that to the best of your knowledge and belief those Fuzzies never touched that girl, and it wasn’t till Woller talked to Lurkin and his daughter at headquarters that anybody even mentioned Fuzzies?”
The screen darkened to midnight blue, and then, slowly, it lightened.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Dumont admitted. He avoided their eyes, and his voice was surly. “I thought that was how it was, and I asked Woller. He just laughed at me and told me to forget it.” The screen seethed84 momentarily with anger. “That son of a Khooghra thinks he’s chief, not me. One word from me and he does just what he damn pleases!”
“Now you’re being smart, Piet,” Fane said. “Let’s start all over….”
A constabulary corporal was at the controls of the car Jack had rented from the hotel: Gerd had taken his place in one of the two constabulary cars. The third car shuttled between them, and all three talked back and forth by radio.
“Mr. Holloway.” It was the trooper in the car Gerd had been piloting. “Your partner’s down on the ground; he just called me with his portable. He’s found a cracked prawn-shell.”
“Keep talking; give me direction,” the corporal at the controls said, lifting up.
In a moment, they sighted the other car, hovering85 over a narrow ravine on the left bank of the stream. The third car was coming in from the north. Gerd was still squatting86 on the ground when they let down beside him. He looked up as they jumped out.
“This is it, Jack” he said. “Regular Fuzzy job.”
So it was. Whatever they had used, it hadn’t been anything sharp; the head was smashed instead of being cleanly severed87. The shell, however, had been broken from underneath88 in the standard manner, and all four mandibles had been broken off for picks. They must have all eaten at the prawn, share alike. It had been done quite recently.
They sent the car up, and while all three of them circled about, they went up the ravine on foot, calling: “Little Fuzzy! Little Fuzzy!” They found a footprint, and then another, where seepage89 water had moistened the ground. Gerd was talking excitedly into the portable radio he carried slung90 on his chest.
“One of you, go ahead a quarter of a mile, and then circle back. They’re in here somewhere.”
“I see them! I see them!” a voice whooped91 out of the radio. “They’re going up the slope on your right, among the rocks!”
“Keep them in sight; somebody come and pick us up, and we’ll get above them and head them off.”
The rental92 car dropped quickly, the corporal getting the door open. He didn’t bother going off contragravity; as soon as they were in and had pulled the door shut behind them, he was lifting again. For a moment, the hill swung giddily as the car turned, and then Jack saw them, climbing the steep slope among the rocks. Only four of them, and one was helping93 another. He wondered which ones they were, what had happened to the other two and if the one that needed help had been badly hurt.
The car landed on the top, among the rocks, settling at an awkward angle. He, Gerd and the pilot piled out and started climbing and sliding down the declivity94. Then he found himself within reach of a Fuzzy and grabbed. Two more dashed past him, up the steep hill. The one he snatched at had something in his hand, and aimed a vicious blow at his face with it; he had barely time to block it with his forearm. Then he was clutching the Fuzzy and disarming95 him; the weapon was a quarter-pound ballpeen hammer. He put it in his hip96 pocket and then picked up the struggling Fuzzy with both hands.
“You hit Pappy Jack!” he said reproachfully. “Don’t you know Pappy any more? Poor scared little thing!”
The Fuzzy in his arms yeeked angrily. Then he looked, and it was no Fuzzy he had ever seen before—not Little Fuzzy, nor funny, pompous97 Ko-Ko, nor mischievous98 Mike. It was a stranger Fuzzy.
“Well, no wonder; of course you didn’t know Pappy Jack. You aren’t one of Pappy Jack’s Fuzzies at all!”
At the top, the constabulary corporal was sitting on a rock, clutching two Fuzzies, one under each arm. They stopped struggling and yeeked piteously when they saw their companion also a captive.
“Your partner’s down below, chasing the other one,” the corporal said. “You better take these too; you know them and I don’t.”
“Hang onto them; they don’t know me any better than they do you.”
With one hand, he got a bit of Extee Three out of his coat and offered it; the Fuzzy gave a cry of surprised pleasure, snatched it and gobbled it. He must have eaten it before. When he gave some to the corporal, the other two, a male and a female, also seemed familiar with it. From below, Gerd was calling:
“I got one, It’s a girl Fuzzy; I don’t know if it’s Mitzi or Cinderella. And, my God, wait till you see what she was carrying.”
Gerd came into sight, the fourth Fuzzy struggling under one arm and a little kitten, black with a white face, peeping over the crook99 of his other elbow. He was too stunned100 with disappointment to look at it with more than vague curiosity.
“They aren’t our Fuzzies, Gerd. I never saw any of them before.”
“Jack, are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!” He was indignant. “Don’t you think I know my own Fuzzies? Don’t you think they’d know me?”
“God knows. They must have picked it up somewhere. She was carrying it in her arms, like a baby.”
“They’re somebody’s Fuzzies. They’ve been fed Extee Three. We’ll take them to the hotel. Whoever it is, I’ll bet he misses them as much as I do mine.”
His own Fuzzies, whom he would never see again. The full realization102 didn’t hit him until he and Gerd were in the car again. There had been no trace of his Fuzzies from the time they had broken out of their cages at Science Center. This quartet had appeared the night the city police had manufactured the story of the attack on the Lurkin girl, and from the moment they had been seen by the youth who couldn’t bring himself to fire on them, they had left a trail that he had been able to pick up at once and follow. Why hadn’t his own Fuzzies attracted as much notice in the three weeks since they had vanished?
Because his own Fuzzies didn’t exist any more. They had never gotten out of Science Center alive. Somebody Max Fane hadn’t been able to question under veridication had murdered them. There was no use, any more, trying to convince himself differently.
“We’ll stop at their camp and pick up the blanket and the cushions and the rest of the things. I’ll send the people who lost them checks,” he said. “The Fuzzies ought to have those things.”
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abatement
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| n.减(免)税，打折扣，冲销 | |
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prawn
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| n.对虾，明虾 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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crates
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| n. 板条箱, 篓子, 旧汽车 vt. 装进纸条箱 | |
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flora
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fauna
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| n.(一个地区或时代的)所有动物，动物区系 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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parlor
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prosecutor
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pajamas
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symbolic
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logic
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crumpled
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sapience
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disinterestedly
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untie
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bum
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coverage
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bruises
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savagely
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wrought
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brutal
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provocation
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severely
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bribed
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juvenile
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briefly
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fixed
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shanties
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poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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31
pickup
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| n.拾起，获得 | |
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32
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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33
commentator
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| n.注释者，解说者；实况广播评论员 | |
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34
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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35
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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36
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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37
domesticated
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| adj.喜欢家庭生活的；（指动物）被驯养了的v.驯化( domesticate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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39
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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40
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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41
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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42
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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43
civilians
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| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
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44
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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45
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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46
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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47
stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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48
stinks
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| v.散发出恶臭( stink的第三人称单数 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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49
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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50
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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51
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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52
exhumed
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| v.挖出，发掘出( exhume的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
harassing
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| v.侵扰，骚扰( harass的现在分词 )；不断攻击（敌人） | |
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54
evict
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| vt.驱逐，赶出，撵走 | |
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55
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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57
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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58
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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60
scampered
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
jumbled
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| adj.混乱的；杂乱的 | |
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62
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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63
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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prosecutable
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| [法] 可提起公诉的 | |
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subpoena
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| n.（法律）传票；v.传讯 | |
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interrogate
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| vt.讯问，审问，盘问 | |
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67
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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68
excavation
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| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
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69
shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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72
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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73
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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74
chisel
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| n.凿子；v.用凿子刻，雕，凿 | |
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75
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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76
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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77
anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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78
turquoise
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| n.绿宝石；adj.蓝绿色的 | |
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79
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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80
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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81
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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82
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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83
juggling
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| n. 欺骗, 杂耍(=jugglery) adj. 欺骗的, 欺诈的 动词juggle的现在分词 | |
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84
seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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85
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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86
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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87
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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88
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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89
seepage
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| n.泄漏 | |
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90
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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91
whooped
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| 叫喊( whoop的过去式和过去分词 )； 高声说； 唤起 | |
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92
rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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93
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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94
declivity
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| n.下坡，倾斜面 | |
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95
disarming
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| adj.消除敌意的，使人消气的v.裁军( disarm的现在分词 )；使息怒 | |
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96
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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97
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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98
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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99
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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100
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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101
pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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102
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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