During August and September they stayed at different country houses; and Fortune being in a kindly4 mood, the money remained untouched. In the middle of October they came to London to their usual rooms in the Hotel Cecil; and Sir Tancred was one morning at breakfast disagreeably surprised to receive from Mr. Robert Lambert a demand for the immediate payment of 1450 pounds. At first he thought it was a mistake, then he remembered that he had paid Mr. Lambert in notes; and that Mr. Lambert had promised to get at once from his bank the promissory note on which the money had been borrowed, and send it to him. The promissory note had not come, and the matter had passed from Sir Tancred's mind. Now, he perceived that, if Mr. Lambert chose to deny that payment, he was in no little of a plight6.
After breakfast, therefore, he took a hansom, and drove to Mr. Lambert's office. The worthy7 money-lender received him at once, and with no less delay began to deny with every appearance of honest indignation that he had been paid the debt. Sir Tancred grew exceedingly disagreeable; he set forth8 with perfect frankness his opinion of Mr. Lambert's character, declared that he would rather go to that uncomfortable abode9 of contemptuous debtors10, Holloway, than be swindled in so barefaced11 a fashion; and exclaiming, "You may go to your native Jericho, before I pay you a farthing, you thieving rascal12!" went out of the office, and banged the door behind him.
The worthy money-lender smiled an uncomfortable and malignant13 smile at the banged door, and at once gave instructions to his manager to take proceedings14. Sir Tancred explained the transaction to Tinker; warned him against laxness in matters of business; prepared for immediate flight; and they caught the midnight mail from Euston. By the time an indefatigable15 bailiff had ascertained16 next day that they had left London, they were eating their dinner, in a secure peace, at Ardrochan Lodge17 in Ardrochan forest, which Sir Tancred had borrowed for the while from his friend Lord Crosland.
Hildebrand Anne was used to long periods unenlivened by companions of his own age; and he began forthwith to make the best of the forest. Some days he stalked the red deer with his father; some days were devoted18 to his education, fencing, boxing, and gymnastics; and on the others he explored the forest on a shaggy pony19. It was of a comfortable size, forty square miles or thereabouts, stretches of wild heath, broken by strips of wood, craggy hills, and swamps, full of streams, and abounding20 in many kinds of animals. It was an admirable place for Indians, outlaws21, brigands22, and robber barons23, and Tinker practised all these professions in turn, with the liveliest satisfaction.
At first it was something of a tax on his imagination to be a whole band of these engaging persons himself; with one companion it would have been easy enough, but his imagination presently compassed the task. And when he found his way to the Deil's Den5, a low stone tower on a hill some six miles from Ardrochan, his favourite occupation was that of robber baron24. It would have been more proper to put the tower to its old use of a lair25 of a Highland26 cateran; but, to his shame, Tinker funked the dialect with which such a person must necessarily be cursed.
The Deil's Den had earned its name in earlier centuries from the bloody27 deeds of its first owners. No gillie would go within a mile of it, even in bright sunshine. Tinker's carelessness of its ghosts, a headless woman and a redheaded man with his throat cut, had won him the deepest respect of the village, or rather hamlet, of Ardrochan. Twice he had constrained28 himself to wait in the tower till dusk, in the hope that his fearful, but inquiring, spirit would be gratified by the sight of one or other of these psychic29 curiosities.
It was a two-storied building, and its stone seemed likely to last as long as the hills from which it had been quarried30. In some thought that it might be used as a watch-tower by his keepers, Lord Crosland had repaired its inside, and fitted it with a stout31 door and two ladders, one running to the second story and another to the roof. From here the keen eyes of Hildebrand Anne, Baron of Ardrochan, scanned often the countryside, looking for travelling merchants or wandering knights32; while his gallant33 steed Black Rudolph, whose coat was drab and dingy34, waited saddled and bridled35 below, and Blazer the bloodhound sniffed36 about the burn hard by. Blazer had a weakness for rats quite uncommon37 in bloodhounds.
Tinker cherished but a faint hope that Fortune would ever send him a prisoner, even a braw, shock-headed lad, or sonsie, savage38 lassie of the country. But he did not do justice to that goddess's love of mischief39. It was she who inspired into Mr. Robert Lambert the desire to shine in the Great World; and it was she who gave him the idea of taking for the season Lord Hardacre's house and forest of Tullispaith, in lieu of the cash which he would never get. Thither40 he invited certain spirited young clients, who had practically only the choice of being Mr. Lambert's guests at Tullispaith or King Edward's at Holloway. Thither he came, a week beforehand, to make ready for them.
At once he set about becoming an accomplished41 deer-stalker. For three days he rode, or tramped, about the forest of Tullispaith, in search of red deer which, in quite foolish estimate of their peril42, insisted always on putting a hill between themselves and his rifle. On the fourth day he rested, for though his spirit was willing, his legs were weak. This inactivity irked him, for he knew the tireless energy of the English sportsman; and at noon Fortune inspired him with the most disastrous43 idea of all, the idea of taking a stroll by himself. He took his rifle and a packet of sandwiches, and set out. Now to the unpractised eye any one brae, or glen, or burn of bonnie Scotland is exactly like any other brae, or glen, or burn of that picturesque44 land. He had not gone two miles before he had lost his way.
He did not mind, for he was sure that he knew his direction. He was wrong; he may have been like his Oriental ancestors in some of his qualities, but he lacked their ingrained sense of orientation45; and he was walking steadily46 away from the house of Tullispaith. He rested often and he looked often at his watch. He passed over the border of Tullispaith into the forest of Ardrochan, and wandered wearily on and on. The autumn sun was moving down the western sky at a disquieting47 speed, when at last he caught sight of the Dell's Den, and with a new energy hurried towards it.
At about the same time Hildebrand Anne, the robber baron of Ardrochan, caught sight of him, mounted Black Rudolph, and rode down to meet him, ready to drag or lure48 him to his stronghold. The angel face of Tinker had never looked more angelic to human being than it looked to the weary money-lender. He had never seen him before; therefore, he had no reason to suppose that that face was not the index to an angelic nature. Unfortunately, Tinker knew by sight most of his father's friends and enemies, and at the first glance he recognised the squat49 figure, the thick, square nose, and muddy complexion50 of Mr. Robert Lambert.
"My lad," said the money-lender, failing to perceive that he was addressing one of the worst kind of man in all romance, "I've lost my way. I want to get to the house of Tullispaith. Which is the road?"
"There is no road; and it's eight miles away," said Tinker, knitting his brow into the gloomy and forbidding frown of a robber baron.
"Eight miles! What am I to do? Where is the nearest place I can get a conveyance51?"
"It would be a twenty-mile drive if you got a cart, and there's no cart nearer than Ardrochan, and that's six miles away."
"Well, then, a horse, or a pony, and a guide?"
"You could get a pony at Hamish Beg's; and one of his sons could guide you."
"Where does he live? How can I get there?"
"Three miles the other side of that tower."
"Will you show me the way? I'll give you—I'll give you half-a-crown."
"Hildebrand Anne of Ardrochan is not the hired varlet of every wandering chapster," said Tinker with a splendid air.
"I'm not a wandering chapster," said the money-lender. "I'm a gentleman of London. I'll give you five shillings—half a sovereign—a pound!"
"The offer of money to one in whose veins53 flows the proudest blood of the North is an insult!" said Tinker in a terrible voice.
"No offence! No offence!" said Mr. Lambert, cursing what he believed to be the penniless Highland pride under his breath.
Suddenly Tinker saw his way. "From the top of yon tower I can show you the path to Hamish Beg's. Follow me," he said, turned his pony, and led the way up the hill with a sinister54 air.
With a groan55, the money-lender, quite unobservant of the sinister air, breasted the ascent56. He set down his rifle by the door of the tower, and followed Tinker up the ladders.
"You see those two pine trees between those two far hills?" said Tinker.
Mr. Lambert drew round his field-glasses, and after long fumbling57, focussed them on the pines. "Well?" he said.
There was no answer; he turned to his angel guide, and found himself alone on the tower. He ran to the top of the ladder and looked down. At the bottom stood Tinker regarding him with an excellent sardonic58 smile: "Ha! ha!" he cried in a gruff, triumphant59 voice, "Trapped—trapped!" And he turned on his heel.
The money-lender heard the door slam and the key turn in the lock. He ran to the parapet, and saw Tinker mounting his pony with an easy grace and the air of one who has performed a meritorious60 action.
"Hi! Hullo! What are you up to?" cried Mr. Lambert.
"Foul61 extortioner! Your crimes have found you out! You have consigned62 many a poor soul to the dungeon64, it is your turn now," said Tinker with admirable grandiloquence65. Then, dropping to his ordinary voice, he added plaintively66: "Of course it's not really a dungeon; it ought to be underground—with rats. But we must make the best of it."
"Look here, my lad," said Mr. Lambert thickly. "I don't want any of your silly games! I shall be late enough home as it is. You unlock that door, and show me the way to this Beg's at once! D'ye hear?"
Tinker laughed a good scornful laugh. "Lambert of London," he said, returning to the romantic vein52, "to-night reflect on your misdeeds. To-morrow we will treat of your ransom67. Hans Breithelm and Jorgan Schwartz, ye answer for this caitiff's safe keeping with your heads! I charge ye watch him well. To horse, my brave men. We ride to Ardrochan!" And he turned his pony.
The money-lender broke into threats and abuse; then, as the pony drew further away, he passed to entreaties68. Tinker never turned his head; he rode on, brimming with joyous69 triumph; he had a real prisoner.
Mr. Lambert shouted after him till he was hoarse70, he shouted after him till his voice was a wheezy croak71. Tinker passed out of sight without a glance back, and, for a while, that iron-hearted, inexorable man of many loans, sobbed72 like a child with mingled73 rage and fear. Then he scrambled74 down the ladder, and tried the door. There was no chance of his bursting it open; that was a feat75 far beyond his strength; and though he might have worked the rusted76 bars out of the window, he could never have forced his rotundity through it. Then he bethought himself of passers-by, and hurried to the top of the tower. There was no one in sight. He shouted and shouted till he lost his voice again; the echoes died away among the empty hills. He leaned upon the parapet waiting, with the faintest hope that the diabolical77 boy would tire of his joke, return, and set him free. Again and again he asked himself who was this boy who had recognised him in this Scotch78 desert.
The dusk gathered till he could not see a hundred yards from the tower. Then he came down, struck a match, and examined the bottom room; it was being borne in upon him that he was destined79 to spend the night in it. It was some twelve feet square, and the stone floor was clean. In one corner was a pile of heather; but there was no way of stopping up the window, and the night was setting in chill.
He went back to the top of the tower; it was dark now. He shouted again. The conviction of the hopelessness of his plight was taking a strong hold upon him, and he was growing hungry. He stamped wearily round the top of the tower to warm his chilling body, pondering a hundred futile80 plans of escape, breaking off to consign63 to perdition the deceptive81 angel child, and meditating82 many different revenges. At the end of an hour he went down the ladder, and flung himself on the pile of heather in a paroxysm of despair.
Till nearly ten o'clock he went now and again to the top of the tower, and shouted. He was beginning to grow very hungry. At ten o'clock he buried himself in the heather, and slept for an hour. He awoke cold and stiff, and his sensitive stomach, used to the tenderest indulgence, was clamouring angrily. He was learning what the cold and hunger, which, by a skilful83 manipulation of the laws of his adopted country, he had been able to mete84 out to many foolish innocents with no grudging85 hand, really were. He went to the top of the tower, and shouted fruitlessly; he warmed himself by stamping up and down; then he came and slept again. This was his round all the night through: snatches of uneasy sleep, cold and hungry awakenings, shoutings, and stampings round the top of the tower.
Meanwhile Tinker had ridden joyously86 home, and shown himself in such cheerful spirits during dinner that Sir Tancred had observed him with no little suspicion, wondering if it could really be that he had found opportunities of mischief even in a deer-forest. After dinner Tinker went into the kitchen, where he found Hamish Beg supping. He talked to him for a while, on matters of sport; then he said, "I say, you told me about the headless woman and the red-headed man with his throat cut, at the Deil's Den, but you never told me about the man in brown who shouts and waves from the top of the tower, and when you come to it, it's empty."
Hamish, the cook, and the two maids burst into a torrent87 of exclamations88 in their strange language. "Yes," said Tinker, "a man in brown who shouts and waves from the top of the tower, and when you come to it, no one's there."
He kept his story to this, and presently came back to his father, assured that the more loudly Mr. Lambert yelled, and the more wildly he waved, the further would any inhabitant of Ardrochan fly from the Deil's Den. He went to bed in a gloating joy, which kept him awake a while; and it was during those wakeful moments that a memory of "Monte Cristo" suggested that he should gain a practical advantage from what had so far been merely an act of abstract justice.
It was past eleven when Tinker came riding over the hills at the head of his merry, but imaginary men. Horribly hungry, but warmed by the sun to a quite passable malignity89, the money-lender watched his coming from the top of the tower, pondering how to catch him and thrash him within an inch of his life. He did not know that far more active men than he had cherished vainly that arrogant90 ambition, but Tinker's cheerful and confident air afforded little encouragement to his purpose.
"Halt!" cried the robber baron, reining91 up his pony. "Hans and Jorgan, is your captive safe? Good. Bring him forth." He turned to his invisible band. "To your quarters, varlets! I would confer alone with the usurious"—he rolled the satisfying word finely off his tongue—"rogue92."
He turned, and frowned splendidly on the prisoner. "What think ye of our hospitality, Lambert of London?" he said.
Suddenly Tinker dropped the robber baron, and became his frank and engaging self: "I'm sorry to be so late," he said with a charming air of apology, "but I had to send a message to Tullispaith to say that you would not be back till Saturday, or perhaps Monday."
"What!" screamed Mr. Lambert. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I didn't want them to hunt for you. I'm going to keep you here till you do what I want," said Tinker with a seraphic smile.
"You young rascal! You mean to try and keep me here!" screamed Mr. Lambert, jumping about in a light, but ungainly fashion. "Oh, I'll teach you! I'll make you repent95 this till your dying day! You think you can keep me here! You shall see. The first shepherd, the first keeper who passes will let me out. And I won't rest"—and he swore an oath quite unfit for boyish ears—"till I've hunted you down!"
"No one will come within a mile of the Deil's Den," said the unruffled Tinker. "It's haunted by a headless woman and a redheaded man with his throat cut. But perhaps you've seen them. Besides, I've told them that there's a man in brown who shouts and waves, and then disappears when anyone comes to the tower. Why, if they see you, they'll run for their lives." He spoke96 with a convicting quietness.
"You're not going to leave here till you give me a letter for your clerk, telling him to hand over Sir Tancred Beauleigh's promissory note," said Tinker.
Mr. Lambert rejected the suggestion in extravagant99 language.
"You bandy words with me!" cried the Baron Hildebrand Anne of Ardrochan. "Lambert of London, beware! Think, rash rogue, on your grinders! Hans and Jorgan, prepare the red-hot pincers! You have a quarter of an hour to reflect, Lambert."
He flung himself off his pony, tethered it, strode down to the spring which trickled100 out of the hillside some forty yards away, and came back bearing a big jug101 full of water.
Mr. Lambert watched him in a bursting fury, at whiles scanning the empty hills with a raging eye. Suddenly light dawned on him: "Are you the boy who stole the flying-machine?" he cried.
"You mind your own business!" said Tinker tartly102; it was his cherished belief that he had borrowed the flying-machine.
Mr. Lambert understood at last with whom he had to deal; and the knowledge was not cheering. His angry stomach clamoured at him to come to terms, but his greed was still too strong for it.
"The time is up, Lambert of London!" said Tinker presently, very sternly. "Will you ransom your base carcase?"
The money-lender turned his back on him with a lofty dignity.
"Ha! ha! Hunger shall tame that proud spirit!" said the Baron of Ardrochan.
Suddenly the money-lender heard the door opened, and he dashed for the ladder. He scrambled down it in time to hear the key turn again, but the jug of water stood inside. He took it up and drank a deep draught103. He had not known that he was so thirsty, never dreamed that water could be so appetising. He heard Tinker summon his men, and when he came back to the top of the tower, he was riding away. He watched him go with a sinking heart, and, since he was so empty, it had a good depth to sink to. Twice he opened his mouth to call him back, but greed prevailed.
The day wore wearily through. His spoilt stomach was now raving104 at him in a savage frenzy105. Now and again he shouted, but less often as the afternoon drew on, for he knew surely that it was hopeless.
As the dusk fell, he found himself remembering Tinker's words about the headless woman and the redheaded man, and began to curse his folly106 in not having come to terms. At times his hunger was a veritable anguish. This night was a thousand times worse than the night before. His hunger gave him little rest, and he awoke from his brief sleep in fits of abject107 terror, fancying that the redheaded man was staring in through the window; he saw his gashed108 throat quite plainly. He grew colder and colder, for he was too faint with hunger to stamp about the top of the tower. Later he must have grown delirious109, for he saw the headless woman climbing up the ladder to the second story. It must have been delirium110, for the figure he saw wore an ordinary nightrail, whereas the lady of the legend wore a russet gown. Some years later, as it seemed to him, the dawn came. It grew warmer; and he huddled111 into the pile of heather and slept.
He was awakened112 by a shout of "Lambert of London, awake!" and tottering113 to the window, groaning114, he beheld115 a cold grouse116, a three-pound chunk117 of venison, two loaves, and a small bottle of whiskey neatly118 set out on a napkin. His mouth opened and shut, and opened and shut.
"The letter, rogue! Are you going to give me the letter?" shouted the Baron Hildebrand Anne fiercely.
Mr. Lambert tore himself from the window, and flung himself down on the heather, sobbing119. "Fourteen hundred and fifty pounds!" he moaned, "Fourteen hundred and fifty pounds!—and costs!" Suddenly his wits cleared … What a fool he'd been!… Why shouldn't he give the boy the letter, and wire countermanding120 his instructions?… Oh, he had been a fool!
He hurried to the window, and cried, "Yes, yes, I'll give it you! Give me the paper. I've got a fountain pen!"
"You'd better have a drink of whiskey first; your hand will be too shaky to write your usual handwriting," said the thoughtful Tinker, handing him the bottle along with the note-paper.
Mr. Lambert took a drink, and indeed it steadied his hand. Sure that he could make it useless, he wrote a careful and complete letter, lying at full length on the floor, his only possible writing table.
He scrambled up, and thrust it through the window, crying, "Here you are! Let me out!"
Tinker spelled the letter carefully through, and put it into another letter he had already prepared to send to Sir Tancred's solicitors122. Then he handed the money-lender a thick venison sandwich, cut while he had been writing.
"Don't wolf it!" said Tinker sternly. "Starving men should feed slowly."
Mr. Lambert had no restraint; he did wolf it. Then he asked for more.
"In a quarter of an hour," said Tinker, and he gave him nothing sooner for all his clamorous124 entreaties.
After a second sandwich the money-lender was another man, and Tinker, seeing that he was not ill, said, "I must be going; I have a long ride to post this letter"; and he began to hand in the rest of the food through the window.
"Be careful not to eat it all up at once," he said. "It's got to last you till to-morrow."
"What's this! What's this!" cried Mr. Lambert. "You promised to release me when you got the letter!"
The money-lender snarled125 like a dog; his brilliant idea had proved of no good. He stormed and stormed; Tinker was cheerful, but indifferent. He thrust a rug he had brought with him through the window, summoned his phantom126 band, and rode away.
Mr. Lambert spent a gloomy, but, thanks to the soothing127 of his stomach, a not uncomfortable day. He was very sad that he had lost the chance of swindling Sir Tancred Beauleigh out of 1450 pounds; and his sadness and an occasional twinge of rheumatism128 filled him with thoughts of revenge. Slowly he formed a plan of disabling Tinker by an unexpected kick when he opened the door, thrashing him within an inch of his life, riding off on his pony, and leaving him helpless, to starve or not, according as he might be found. This plan was a real comfort to him. He passed an unhaunted night; and next morning Tinker brought him more food. For some hours he played at robber baron, and now and again held conversations about the money-lender with his band. None of them contained compliments. Mr. Lambert watched him with a sulky malignity, and matured his plan.
The next morning he awoke late, but very cheerful at the prospect129 of freedom and revenge. He came to the window rubbing his hands joyfully130, and saw a little parcel hanging from the bars. He opened it, and found the key of the door, a little compass, and a letter. Swearing at his vanished chance of revenge, he opened it; it ran:
Fly at once. Steer131 N. E. for Tulyspathe. Hamish believes you are uncanny, and has molded a silver bullet out of a half crown to lay your resless spirrit with. His rifel is oldfashuned, but he will not miss and waist the half crown he is so thriffty.
A SEKRET WORNER.
Mr. Lambert steered132 N.E. at once; he went not like the wind, but as much like the wind as his soft, short legs would carry him. He scanned every bush and gully with fearful eyes; he gave every thicket133 a wide berth134, and every time he saw Hamish, and he saw him behind a thousand bushes and boulders135, he shouted: "I'm Mr. Lambert from London, I'm not a spirit!"
It was, indeed, a wasted and dirty money-lender who reached Tullispaith late in the day. He had but one thought in his mind, to fly immediately after dinner from this expansive and terrifying country. He wired to his guests not to come; he discharged his servants; and as he crossed the border next day, he bade farewell to the stern and wild Caledonia in a most impressive malediction136.
When Sir Tancred Beauleigh received his lawyer's letter containing the promissory note, he was not a little bewildered; Tinker was quick to enlighten him; and he heard that angel child's explanation of his application of mediaeval German methods to a modern monetary137 difficulty with a grateful astonishment138.
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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debtors
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| n.债务人，借方( debtor的名词复数 ) | |
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barefaced
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| adj.厚颜无耻的，公然的 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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abounding
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| adj.丰富的，大量的v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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barons
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| 男爵( baron的名词复数 )； 巨头； 大王； 大亨 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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quarried
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| v.从采石场采得( quarry的过去式和过去分词 )；从（书本等中）努力发掘（资料等）；在采石场采石 | |
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32
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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33
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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34
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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35
bridled
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| 给…套龙头( bridle的过去式和过去分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
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36
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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37
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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38
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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39
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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40
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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41
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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42
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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43
disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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44
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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45
orientation
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| n.方向，目标；熟悉，适应，情况介绍 | |
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46
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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47
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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48
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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49
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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50
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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51
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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52
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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53
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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54
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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55
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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56
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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57
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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58
sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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59
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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60
meritorious
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| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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61
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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62
consigned
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| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的过去式和过去分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
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63
consign
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| vt.寄售（货品），托运，交托，委托 | |
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64
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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65
grandiloquence
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| n.夸张之言，豪言壮语，豪语 | |
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66
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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67
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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68
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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69
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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70
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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71
croak
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| vi.嘎嘎叫，发牢骚 | |
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72
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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73
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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74
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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75
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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76
rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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78
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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79
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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80
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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81
deceptive
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| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
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82
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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83
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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84
mete
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| v.分配；给予 | |
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85
grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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86
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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87
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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88
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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89
malignity
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| n.极度的恶意，恶毒；（病的）恶性 | |
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90
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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91
reining
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的现在分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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92
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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93
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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94
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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96
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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97
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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98
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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99
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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100
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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101
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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102
tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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103
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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104
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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105
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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106
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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107
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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108
gashed
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| v.划伤，割破( gash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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110
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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111
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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112
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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113
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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114
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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115
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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116
grouse
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| n.松鸡；v.牢骚，诉苦 | |
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117
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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118
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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119
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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120
countermanding
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| v.取消（命令），撤回( countermand的现在分词 ) | |
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121
solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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122
solicitors
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| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
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123
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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124
clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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125
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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126
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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127
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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128
rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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129
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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130
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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131
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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132
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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133
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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134
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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135
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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136
malediction
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| n.诅咒 | |
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137
monetary
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| adj.货币的，钱的；通货的；金融的；财政的 | |
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138
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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