Midway in the office room, he pressed a button and a series of book-freightened shelves swung on a pivot4, revealing a tiny spiral stairway of steel, which he descended5 with care that his spurs might not catch, the bookshelves swinging into place behind him.
At the foot of the stairway, a press on another button pivoted6 more shelves of books and gave him entrance into a long low room shelved with books from floor to ceiling. He went directly to a case, directly to a shelf, and unerringly laid his hand on the book he sought. A minute he ran the pages, found the passage he was after, nodded his head to himself in vindication7, and replaced the book.
A door gave way to a pergola of square concrete columns spanned with redwood logs and interlaced with smaller trunks of redwood, all rough and crinkled velvet8 with the ruddy purple of the bark.
It was evident, since he had to skirt several hundred feet of concrete walls of wandering house, that he had not taken the short way out. Under wide-spreading ancient oaks, where the long hitching-rails, bark-chewed, and the hoof9-beaten gravel10 showed the stamping place of many horses, he found a pale-golden, almost tan-golden, sorrel mare11. Her well-groomed spring coat was alive and flaming in the morning sun that slanted12 straight under the edge of the roof of trees. She was herself alive and flaming. She was built like a stallion, and down her backbone13 ran a narrow dark strip of hair that advertised an ancestry14 of many range mustangs.
She laid back the tiniest ears that ever a horse possessed—ears that told of some thoroughbred’s wild loves with wild mares among the hills—and snapped at Forrest with wicked teeth and wicked-gleaming eyes.
She sidled and attempted to rear as he swung into the saddle, and, sidling and attempting to rear, she went off down the graveled road. And rear she would have, had it not been for the martingale that held her head down and that, as well, saved the rider’s nose from her angry-tossing head.
So used was he to the mare, that he was scarcely aware of her antics. Automatically, with slightest touch of rein2 against arched neck, or with tickle16 of spur or press of knee, he kept the mare to the way he willed. Once, as she whirled and danced, he caught a glimpse of the Big House. Big it was in all seeming, and yet, such was the vagrant17 nature of it, it was not so big as it seemed. Eight hundred feet across the front face, it stretched. But much of this eight hundred feet was composed of mere18 corridors, concrete-walled, tile-roofed, that connected and assembled the various parts of the building. There were patios19 and pergolas in proportion, and all the walls, with their many right-angled juts20 and recessions, arose out of a bed of greenery and bloom.
Spanish in character, the architecture of the Big House was not of the California-Spanish type which had been introduced by way of Mexico a hundred years before, and which had been modified by modern architects to the California-Spanish architecture of the day. Hispano-Moresque more technically21 classified the Big House in all its hybridness, although there were experts who heatedly quarreled with the term.
Spaciousness23 without austerity and beauty without ostentation24 were the fundamental impressions the Big House gave. Its lines, long and horizontal, broken only by lines that were vertical25 and by the lines of juts and recesses26 that were always right-angled, were as chaste27 as those of a monastery28. The irregular roof-line, however, relieved the hint of monotony.
Low and rambling29, without being squat30, the square upthrusts of towers and of towers over-topping towers gave just proportion of height without being sky-aspiring. The sense of the Big House was solidarity31. It defied earthquakes. It was planted for a thousand years. The honest concrete was overlaid by a cream-stucco of honest cement. Again, this very sameness of color might have proved monotonous32 to the eye had it not been saved by the many flat roofs of warm-red Spanish tile.
In that one sweeping33 glance while the mare whirled unduly34, Dick Forrest’s eyes, embracing all of the Big House, centered for a quick solicitous35 instant on the great wing across the two-hundred-foot court, where, under climbing groups of towers, red-snooded in the morning sun, the drawn36 shades of the sleeping-porch tokened that his lady still slept.
About him, for three quadrants of the circle of the world, arose low-rolling hills, smooth, fenced, cropped, and pastured, that melted into higher hills and steeper wooded slopes that merged38 upward, steeper, into mighty39 mountains. The fourth quadrant was unbounded by mountain walls and hills. It faded away, descending40 easily to vast far flatlands, which, despite the clear brittle41 air of frost, were too vast and far to scan across.
The mare under him snorted. His knees tightened42 as he straightened her into the road and forced her to one side. Down upon him, with a pattering of feet on the gravel, flowed a river of white shimmering43 silk. He knew it at sight for his prize herd44 of Angora goats, each with a pedigree, each with a history. There had to be a near two hundred of them, and he knew, according to the rigorous selection he commanded, not having been clipped in the fall, that the shining mohair draping the sides of the least of them, as fine as any human new-born baby’s hair and finer, as white as any human albino’s thatch45 and whiter, was longer than the twelve-inch staple46, and that the mohair of the best of them would dye any color into twenty-inch switches for women’s heads and sell at prices unreasonable47 and profound.
The beauty of the sight held him as well. The roadway had become a flowing ribbon of silk, gemmed48 with yellow cat-like eyes that floated past wary49 and curious in their regard for him and his nervous horse. Two Basque herders brought up the rear. They were short, broad, swarthy men, black-eyed, vivid-faced, contemplative and philosophic50 of expression. They pulled off their hats and ducked their heads to him. Forrest lifted his right hand, the quirt dangling51 from wrist, the straight forefinger52 touching53 the rim54 of his Baden Powell in semi-military salute55.
The mare, prancing56 and whirling again, he held her with a touch of rein and threat of spur, and gazed after the four-footed silk that filled the road with shimmering white. He knew the significance of their presence. The time for kidding was approaching and they were being brought down from their brush-pastures to the brood-pens and shelters for jealous care and generous feed through the period of increase. And as he gazed, in his mind, comparing, was a vision of all the best of Turkish and South African mohair he had ever seen, and his flock bore the comparison well. It looked good. It looked very good.
He rode on. From all about arose the clacking whir of manure-spreaders. In the distance, on the low, easy-sloping hills, he saw team after team, and many teams, three to a team abreast57, what he knew were his Shire mares, drawing the plows58 back and forth59 across, contour-plowing, turning the green sod of the hillsides to the rich dark brown of humus-filled earth so organic and friable60 that it would almost melt by gravity into fine-particled seed-bed. That was for the corn—and sorghum-planting for his silos. Other hill-slopes, in the due course of his rotation61, were knee-high in barley62; and still other slopes were showing the good green of burr clover and Canada pea.
Everywhere about him, large fields and small were arranged in a system of accessibility and workability that would have warmed the heart of the most meticulous63 efficiency-expert. Every fence was hog64-tight and bull-proof, and no weeds grew in the shelters of the fences. Many of the level fields were in alfalfa. Others, following the rotations65, bore crops planted the previous fall, or were in preparation for the spring-planting. Still others, close to the brood barns and pens, were being grazed by rotund Shropshire and French-Merino ewes, or were being hogged66 off by white Gargantuan67 brood-sows that brought a flash of pleasure in his eyes as he rode past and gazed.
He rode through what was almost a village, save that there were neither shops nor hotels. The houses were bungalows68, substantial, pleasing to the eye, each set in the midst of gardens where stouter69 blooms, including roses, were out and smiling at the threat of late frost. Children were already astir, laughing and playing among the flowers or being called in to breakfast by their mothers.
Beyond, beginning at a half-mile distant to circle the Big House, he passed a row of shops. He paused at the first and glanced in. One smith was working at a forge. A second smith, a shoe fresh-nailed on the fore-foot of an elderly Shire mare that would disturb the scales at eighteen hundred weight, was rasping down the outer wall of the hoof to smooth with the toe of the shoe. Forrest saw, saluted70, rode on, and, a hundred feet away, paused and scribbled72 a memorandum73 in the notebook he drew from his hip-pocket.
He passed other shops—a paint-shop, a wagon-shop, a plumbing74 shop, a carpenter-shop. While he glanced at the last, a hybrid22 machine, half-auto, half-truck, passed him at speed and took the main road for the railroad station eight miles away. He knew it for the morning butter-truck freighting from the separator house the daily output of the dairy.
The Big House was the hub of the ranch75 organization. Half a mile from it, it was encircled by the various ranch centers. Dick Forrest, saluting76 continually his people, passed at a gallop77 the dairy center, which was almost a sea of buildings with batteries of silos and with litter carriers emerging on overhead tracks and automatically dumping into waiting manure-spreaders. Several times, business-looking men, college-marked, astride horses or driving carts, stopped him and conferred with him. They were foremen, heads of departments, and they were as brief and to the point as was he. The last of them, astride a Palomina three-year-old that was as graceful78 and wild as a half-broken Arab, was for riding by with a bare salute, but was stopped by his employer.
“Good morning, Mr. Hennessy, and how soon will she be ready for Mrs. Forrest?” Dick Forrest asked.
“I’d like another week,” was Hennessy’s answer. “She’s well broke now, just the way Mrs. Forrest wanted, but she’s over-strung and sensitive and I’d like the week more to set her in her ways.”
Forrest nodded concurrence79, and Hennessy, who was the veterinary, went on:
“There are two drivers in the alfalfa gang I’d like to send down the hill.”
“What’s the matter with them?”
“One, a new man, Hopkins, is an ex-soldier. He may know government mules80, but he doesn’t know Shires.”
Forrest nodded.
“The other has worked for us two years, but he’s drinking now, and he takes his hang-overs out on his horses—”
“That’s Smith, old-type American, smooth-shaven, with a cast in his left eye?” Forrest interrupted.
The veterinary nodded.
“I’ve been watching him,” Forrest concluded. “He was a good man at first, but he’s slipped a cog recently. Sure, send him down the hill. And send that other fellow—Hopkins, you said?—along with him. By the way, Mr. Hennessy.” As he spoke81, Forrest drew forth his pad book, tore off the last note scribbled, and crumpled82 it in his hand. “You’ve a new horse-shoer in the shop. How does he strike you?”
“He’s too new to make up my mind yet.”
“Well, send him down the hill along with the other two. He can’t take your orders. I observed him just now fitting a shoe to old Alden Bessie by rasping off half an inch of the toe of her hoof.”
“He knew better.”
“Send him down the hill,” Forrest repeated, as he tickled83 his champing mount with the slightest of spur-tickles and shot her out along the road, sidling, head-tossing, and attempting to rear.
Much he saw that pleased him. Once, he murmured aloud, “A fat land, a fat land.” Divers84 things he saw that did not please him and that won a note in his scribble71 pad. Completing the circle about the Big House and riding beyond the circle half a mile to an isolated85 group of sheds and corrals, he reached the objective of the ride: the hospital. Here he found but two young heifers being tested for tuberculosis86, and a magnificent Duroc Jersey87 boar in magnificent condition. Weighing fully88 six hundred pounds, its bright eyes, brisk movements, and sheen of hair shouted out that there was nothing the matter with it. Nevertheless, according to the ranch practice, being a fresh importation from Iowa, it was undergoing the regular period of quarantine. Burgess Premier89 was its name in the herd books of the association, age two years, and it had cost Forrest five hundred dollars laid down on the ranch.
Proceeding90 at a hand gallop along a road that was one of the spokes91 radiating from the Big House hub, Forrest overtook Crellin, his hog manager, and, in a five-minute conference, outlined the next few months of destiny of Burgess Premier, and learned that the brood sow, Lady Isleton, the matron of all matrons of the O. I. C.’s and blue-ribboner in all shows from Seattle to San Diego, was safely farrowed of eleven. Crellin explained that he had sat up half the night with her and was then bound home for bath and breakfast.
“I hear your oldest daughter has finished high school and wants to enter Stanford,” Forrest said, curbing92 the mare just as he had half-signaled departure at a gallop.
Crellin, a young man of thirty-five, with the maturity93 of a long-time father stamped upon him along with the marks of college and the youthfulness of a man used to the open air and straight-living, showed his appreciation94 of his employer’s interest as he half-flushed under his tan and nodded.
“Think it over,” Forrest advised. “Make a statistic95 of all the college girls—yes, and State Normal girls—you know. How many of them follow career, and how many of them marry within two years after their degrees and take to baby farming.”
“Do you remember when I had my appendix out?” Forrest queried. “Well, I had as fine a nurse as I ever saw and as nice a girl as ever walked on two nice legs. She was just six months a full-fledged nurse, then. And four months after that I had to send her a wedding present. She married an automobile97 agent. She’s lived in hotels ever since. She’s never had a chance to nurse—never a child of her own to bring through a bout37 with colic. But... she has hopes... and, whether or not her hopes materialize, she’s confoundedly happy. But... what good was her nursing apprenticeship98?”
Just then an empty manure-spreader passed, forcing Crellin, on foot, and Forrest, on his mare, to edge over to the side of the road. Forrest glanced with kindling99 eye at the off mare of the machine, a huge, symmetrical Shire whose own blue ribbons, and the blue ribbons of her progeny100, would have required an expert accountant to enumerate101 and classify.
“Look at the Fotherington Princess,” Forrest said, nodding at the mare that warmed his eye. “She is a normal female. Only incidentally, through thousands of years of domestic selection, has man evolved her into a draught102 beast breeding true to kind. But being a draught-beast is secondary. Primarily she is a female. Take them by and large, our own human females, above all else, love us men and are intrinsically maternal103. There is no biological sanction for all the hurly burly of woman to-day for suffrage104 and career.”
“But there is an economic sanction,” Crellin objected.
“True,” his employer agreed, then proceeded to discount. “Our present industrial system prevents marriage and compels woman to career. But, remember, industrial systems come, and industrial systems go, while biology runs on forever.”
Dick Forrest laughed incredulously.
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “There’s your wife for an instance. She with her sheepskin—classical scholar at that—well, what has she done with it?... Two boys and three girls, I believe? As I remember your telling me, she was engaged to you the whole last half of her senior year.”
“True, but—” Crellin insisted, with an eye-twinkle of appreciation of the point, “that was fifteen years ago, as well as a love-match. We just couldn’t help it. That far, I agree. She had planned unheard-of achievements, while I saw nothing else than the deanship of the College of Agriculture. We just couldn’t help it. But that was fifteen years ago, and fifteen years have made all the difference in the world in the ambitions and ideals of our young women.”
“Don’t you believe it for a moment. I tell you, Mr. Crellin, it’s a statistic. All contrary things are transient. Ever woman remains106 Avoman, everlasting107, eternal. Not until our girl-children cease from playing with dolls and from looking at their own enticingness in mirrors, will woman ever be otherwise than what she has always been: first, the mother, second, the mate of man. It is a statistic. I’ve been looking up the girls who graduate from the State Normal. You will notice that those who marry by the way before graduation are excluded. Nevertheless, the average length of time the graduates actually teach school is little more than two years. And when you consider that a lot of them, through ill looks and ill luck, are foredoomed old maids and are foredoomed to teach all their lives, you can see how they cut down the period of teaching of the marriageable ones.”
“A woman, even a girl-woman, will have her way where mere men are concerned,” Crellin muttered, unable to dispute his employer’s figures but resolved to look them up.
“And your girl-woman will go to Stanford,” Forrest laughed, as he prepared to lift his mare into a gallop, “and you and I and all men, to the end of time, will see to it that they do have their way.”
Crellin smiled to himself as his employer diminished down the road; for Crellin knew his Kipling, and the thought that caused the smile was: “But where’s the kid of your own, Mr. Forrest?” He decided108 to repeat it to Mrs. Crellin over the breakfast coffee.
Once again Dick Forrest delayed ere he gained the Big House. The man he stopped he addressed as Mendenhall, who was his horse-manager as well as pasture expert, and who was reputed to know, not only every blade of grass on the ranch, but the length of every blade of grass and its age from seed-germination as well.
At signal from Forrest, Mendenhall drew up the two colts he was driving in a double breaking-cart. What had caused Forrest to signal was a glance he had caught, across the northern edge of the valley, of great, smooth-hill ranges miles beyond, touched by the sun and deeply green where they projected into the vast flat of the Sacramento Valley.
The talk that followed was quick and abbreviated109 to terms of understanding between two men who knew. Grass was the subject. Mention was made of the winter rainfall and of the chance for late spring rains to come. Names occurred, such as the Little Coyote and Los Cuatos creeks110, the Yolo and the Miramar hills, the Big Basin, Round Valley, and the San Anselmo and Los Banos ranges. Movements of herds111 and droves, past, present, and to come, were discussed, as well as the outlook for cultivated hay in far upland pastures and the estimates of such hay that still remained over the winter in remote barns in the sheltered mountain valleys where herds had wintered and been fed.
Under the oaks, at the stamping posts, Forrest was saved the trouble of tying the Man-Eater. A stableman came on the run to take the mare, and Forrest, scarce pausing for a word about a horse by the name of Duddy, was clanking his spurs into the Big House.
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1
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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3
paraphernalia
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| n.装备；随身用品 | |
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pivot
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| v.在枢轴上转动；装枢轴，枢轴；adj.枢轴的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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pivoted
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| adj.转动的，回转的，装在枢轴上的v.（似）在枢轴上转动( pivot的过去式和过去分词 )；把…放在枢轴上；以…为核心，围绕（主旨）展开 | |
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7
vindication
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| n.洗冤，证实 | |
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8
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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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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16
tickle
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| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
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17
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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patios
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| n.露台，平台( patio的名词复数 ) | |
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juts
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| v.（使）突出( jut的第三人称单数 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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technically
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| adv.专门地，技术上地 | |
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hybrid
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| n.(动，植）杂种，混合物 | |
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spaciousness
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| n.宽敞 | |
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ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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27
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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28
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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30
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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solidarity
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| n.团结；休戚相关 | |
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32
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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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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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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38
merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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39
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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40
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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41
brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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42
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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43
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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44
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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45
thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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46
staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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47
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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48
gemmed
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| 点缀（gem的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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49
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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50
philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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51
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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52
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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55
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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56
prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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57
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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58
plows
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| n.犁( plow的名词复数 )；犁型铲雪机v.耕( plow的第三人称单数 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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friable
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| adj.易碎的 | |
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61
rotation
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| n.旋转；循环，轮流 | |
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62
barley
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| n.大麦，大麦粒 | |
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meticulous
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| adj.极其仔细的，一丝不苟的 | |
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hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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rotations
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| 旋转( rotation的名词复数 )； 转动； 轮流； 轮换 | |
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hogged
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| adj.（船）中拱的，（路）拱曲的 | |
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gargantuan
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| adj.巨大的，庞大的 | |
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bungalows
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| n.平房( bungalow的名词复数 )；单层小屋，多于一层的小屋 | |
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stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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scribble
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| v.潦草地书写，乱写，滥写；n.潦草的写法，潦草写成的东西，杂文 | |
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72
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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74
plumbing
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| n.水管装置；水暖工的工作；管道工程v.用铅锤测量（plumb的现在分词）；探究 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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concurrence
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| n.同意；并发 | |
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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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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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82
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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83
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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tuberculosis
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| n.结核病，肺结核 | |
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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premier
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| adj.首要的；n.总理，首相 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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spokes
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| n.（车轮的）辐条( spoke的名词复数 )；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 | |
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curbing
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| n.边石，边石的材料v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的现在分词 ) | |
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maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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statistic
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| n.统计量；adj.统计的，统计学的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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98
apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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99
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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100
progeny
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| n.后代，子孙；结果 | |
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101
enumerate
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| v.列举，计算，枚举，数 | |
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102
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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103
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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104
suffrage
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| n.投票，选举权，参政权 | |
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105
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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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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107
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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108
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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109
abbreviated
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| adj. 简短的，省略的 动词abbreviate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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110
creeks
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| n.小湾( creek的名词复数 )；小港；小河；小溪 | |
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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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