The waters rush and whirl
Down to the treasured pearl.
—GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE.
The days sped swiftly, and Scotty learned many things both in and out of school. In the latter department his chief instructor4 was his nearest neighbour. Peter Lauchie was fourteen, and a wonderful man of the world in Scotty's eyes; but in spite of the great disparity of years the two were much together. From his companion Scotty learned many great lessons. The first and cardinal5 principle laid down was that all who hailed from the Oa must wage internecine6 war upon the Flats and must despise and ignore all English and Lowlanders. Another was that one might as well make up one's mind to attend to business during McAllister's glacial period, but that, when a more genial7 atmosphere pervaded8 the school, the farther one went in inventing new forms of mischief9 the more likely was one to become a hero.
Peter Lauchie further explained that all Pat Murphy's crew were nothing but Fenians. He pronounced the evil word in a whisper, and added in a more sepulchral10 tone that the Caldwell boys and a lot more Irish from the Flats, yes, and "Hoak" Tucker's people, too, were Orangemen. These terrible disclosures filled Scotty with vague alarm; for, though he strove to keep his companionship a secret, there could be no doubt that most of his time at school was spent in the very pleasant company of Danny Murphy and "Hash" Tucker; and furthermore that, since the day she had saved him from old McAllister's clutches, Nancy Caldwell had been the bright, particular star of his existence. He had no doubt that Nancy returned his devotion, either; for she brought him big lumps of maple11 sugar and the rosiest12 apples, and was always anxious that he should share her cake. Of course, she was apt to exact payment for these favours, and would chase him all over the school and kiss him in spite of his fiercest struggles. But, nevertheless, Nancy held his heart. Surely she could not be anything very wicked. Fenians he knew something about; the Fenian Raids had been talked of in his home ever since he could remember. Orangemen might not be quite so bad. He made up his mind he would ask Hamish all about it.
There was quite a little circle of friends about the fire that evening; Long Lauchie MacDonald and three of his grown-up sons had come over for a chat, and of course Weaver14 Jimmie was there, having been turned out of Kirsty John's house at the point of the potato masher.
Like most of the Highlanders, Long Lauchie was aptly described by his name. He was a tall, thin, attenuated15 man. Everything about him seemed to run to a point and vanish; his long, thin hands, his flimsy pointed16 beard, even his long nose and ears helped out his character. He rarely indulged in conversation, coming out of an habitual17 reverie only occasionally to make a remark. Nevertheless he was of a sociable18 turn and was often seen at Big Malcolm's fireside.
The company sat round in a comfortable, hump-backed circle, emitting clouds of smoke and discussing the affairs of the Empire; for these men's affections were still set on the old land, and that which touched Britain was vital to them.
Then Old Farquhar started upon a tale, so long and rambling19 that Rory took his fiddle20 and strummed impatiently in the background. Scotty understood enough of Gaelic to gather that it was the story of a beautiful maiden21 who had died that night when her father and brother and lover lay slain23 in the bloody24 massacre25 of Glencoe.
Impatient of the high-flown Gaelic phrases, Scotty flew to Hamish, and his indulgent chum put aside the book and told him the story, and why the MacDonalds hated the name of Orange. Scotty went back to the fire, his cheeks aflame with excitement. Hereafter he would fight everything and anything remotely connected with the name of Orange. See if he wouldn't!
The conversation had turned to quite a different subject. Weaver Jimmie had the floor now, and had almost forgotten his embarrassing appendages26 in the thrill of relating his one great story; the story of how his brother fought the Fenians at Ridgeway.
"Eh, eh," sighed Long Lauchie, "it would maybe be what the prophets would be telling, indeed, about wars and rumours27 of wars!"
For Long Lauchie not only saw sermons in stones, and books in the running brooks28, but discerned in the everyday occurrences about him fulfilment of dire29 prophecy.
"Hooch!" cried Big Malcolm, "I would rather be having a Fenian raid any day than an Orangeman living in the same township."
Long Lauchie sadly shook his head and went off into a series of sighs and ejaculations, as was his way, receding30 farther and farther until his voice died away and he sat gazing into space.
"Aye, indeed, and mebby you'll be gettin' one," cried Weaver Jimmie, wagging his head. "Pete Nash himself told me that Dan Murphy and that Connor crew an' all them low Irish would be saying at the corner the other night that they would jist be gettin' up a Fenian Raid o' their own some o' these fine days, an' be takin' the Glen, whatever."
"Horo!" Callum Fiach arose and came forward, the joy of a conflict dancing in his eyes. "Hech, but I wish they would!"
"Whisht ye, Callum!" cried his father sternly. "Let the evil one alone. I'll have no son o' mine mixin' with such goin's on!"
The young man eyed his father laughingly. "You'd stay at home if there was a Fenian Raid, wouldn't you?" he asked teasingly.
Big Malcolm glanced uneasily towards his wife. His was a hard position to fill amid the fighting MacDonalds; his whole life was a struggle between his inherited tendencies and his religious convictions. He preached peace on earth and good will towards all men; and believed implicitly32 that the meek33 should inherit the earth; but his warlike spirit was always clamouring to be up in arms, and sometimes, in spite even of the strong influence of his wife, it broke all bounds. He shook his head at his son's raillery and made no reply. Not for a long time had he yielded to temptation, but he felt it was not safe to boast.
"Well, if the Fenians ever come to take Canady again, I hope I'll be there!" cried Rory gaily34, breaking into an old warlike Jacobite air.
Weaver Jimmie threw one leg over the other, with great nonchalance35. "They may take Canady, whatever; but they'll not be taking Oro!" he remarked firmly.
"Kirsty 'll be lookin' after Oro!" cried Callum. "Losh, but she'd bang the senses out of the wildest Fenian that ever grew, if she got after him!"
"They didn't take much when they did come," said Long Lauchie's Hugh. "Only a few bullets. Say, though, don't you wish you'd been there?"
Scotty listened, his heart torn with conflicting emotions. He wanted to fight the Fenians now, but with Danny a Fenian, and Nancy and Hash Orangemen, what would become of him? He guessed that Callum had some scheme afoot and he kept close to him all evening and heard him conferring with Long Lauchie's boys in low tones. There was something about the Murphys, and getting them stirred up, and finally a compact to all be at the glen the following afternoon.
The next day Scotty used all his powers to effect a journey to the glen, too. He had some difficulty, however, for it was Saturday and Granny wanted him with her; but by dint36 of assistance from Hamish he accomplished37 his aim, and in the afternoon he drove away on the front seat of the big sleigh between Grandaddy and Callum, full of exuberant38 joy.
The Glen was a small community at a bend in the River Oro, just a mile east of the schoolhouse. Though it was near his home, Scotty had not been in it since he was a baby. He was wildly eager to see the place. To him it was a great metropolis39, for it contained a tavern40 and a store, yes, and a real mill where they made flour. And Hamish had promised to show him the great water wheel that made the mill go, and they were to spend an hour at Thompson's store, and most of all he was anxious to learn the outcome of the boys' mysterious plans of the night before.
The day was delightful41, with all the world a gleam of blue and silver, the glittering landscape softened43 here and there by the restful grey tints44 of the forest. The blue skies with their dazzling white clouds, and the shimmering45 white earth with its bright blue shadows, were so bewilderingly alike that one might well wonder whether he was in heaven or on earth. The air was electric, setting the blood tingling46, and, as the sleigh slipped along down the winding47 road that led to the river, Scotty churned up and down on the seat and could with difficulty restrain himself from leaping out and turning somersaults in the snow.
The highway suddenly emerged from a belt of pine forest and descended48 into a little round valley made by the bend in the river. Here lay "the Glen," the central point of the surrounding communities. Scotty grew quieter and his eyes bigger as they followed the winding steep road that led into its depths. There was the mill by the river, giving out a strange rumbling49 sound; and beside it the house of old Sandy Hamilton, the miller50; and there, on the northern slope of the river bank, was Weaver Jimmie's little shanty51, with the loom52 clattering53 away inside; and right at the corner stood Thompson's store and opposite it Peter Nash's tavern.
So many houses all in one clearing! Scotty could scarcely believe his eyes. And yet the poor little place had, after all, a greater importance than the child could imagine. The Glen was to the grown part of the community what the school was to the younger portion. It lay within the boundaries of the four different settlements, and as clearings began to widen and social intercourse54 became easier, it had gradually become a place where men met for mutual55 help or hindrance56, as the case might be. Here the several nationalities mingled57, and though they did not realise the fact, here they were laying the foundations of a great nation. Such a vast work as this could scarcely be carried on without some commotion58; the chemist must look for explosions when he produces a strange new compound from diverse elements; and it was, therefore, no wonder that the crucible59 in the valley of the Oro was often the scene of much boiling and seething60. Then the tavern came, with its brain-destroying fire, and sometimes after harvest, when the Fighting MacDonalds and the belligerent61 Murphys met before it, the noise of the fray62 might be heard in the farthest-off clearing of the Oa.
Scotty's eyes rested fearfully on the tavern. It was a common log building, wider than the ordinary ones and with a porch in front and a lean-to behind. To the boy its appearance was a great surprise and some disappointment. Grandaddy always spoke63 of it as "a den22 of iniquity64"; and Scotty's fancy had pictured such a den as Daniel had been cast into, which he had seen many times in Granny's big Bible.
He was rather sorry they did not stop there, the inside might be more romantic; but he soon forgot it in the excitement of other scenes; for they went to the mill and Sandy Hamilton, all floury and smiling, took him down to where the water came thundering over the big wheel; and then, while the boys went off with the team, Big Malcolm took his grandson to the most wonderful place yet, the store.
This was the most important place in the Glen, and the man who kept it, James Thompson, or Store Thompson, as the neighbours called him, was the most important and influential65 member of the community. He was a fine, upright, intelligent man and was known far and wide for his learning. He possessed66 a vocabulary of polysyllables that never failed to confound an opponent in argument, and all the township could tell how he once vanquished67 a great university graduate, who was visiting Captain Herbert at Lake Oro. He was often identified by this illustrious deed, and was pointed out to strangers as, "Store Thompson, him that downed the Captain's college man."
Big Malcolm and Store Thompson, though the latter was a Lowlander, had been fast friends ever since they had come to Canada. They were slightly above the average pioneer in intelligence and had many interests in common; so for this reason, as well as a matter of principle, Big Malcolm avoided the tavern and spent his leisure moments with his friend.
As they entered, Store Thompson was busy weighing out sugar for a customer, and glanced up. He was a tall man, with a kind, intelligent face and a high, bland68 forehead. He wore steel-rimmed spectacles, but, when not reading, had them pushed up to the scant70 line of hair on the top of his head, and his pale blue eyes blinked kindly71 at all around. He stopped in the midst of his calculations to welcome his friends.
"Eh, eh, Malcolm, an' is yon yersel'?" he cried heartily72. "It's jist a lang, lang time since Ah seen ye, man; aye, an' it's the wee man ye hae. It's a lang time since ye've been to the Glen; jist an unconscionably lang time; aye, jist that, jist unconscionably like!" He lingered over the word as he shook hands, and then, after inquiring for the wife and family, he turned his attention to Scotty, remarked upon his wonderful growth, and his sturdy limbs, asked him how he was getting on at school and if he could spell "phthisis."
Scotty hung shyly behind his grandfather, and as soon as the host's attention was turned from him he escaped. He seated himself carefully upon a box of red herring, and his eyes wandered wonderingly around the shop. It was a marvellous place for a boy with sharp eyes and an inquiring mind. Down one side ran a counter made of smoothed pine boards and behind it rose a row of shelves reaching to the raftered ceiling and containing everything the farmers could need, from the glass jar of peppermint73 drops on the top shelf to the web of factory cotton near the floor. The remaining space was crammed74 with merchandise. There were boxes of boots, bales of cloth, barrels of sugar and salt and kerosene75, kegs of nails, chests of tea and boxes of patent medicines; and the combination of odours was not the least wonderful thing in this wonderful museum. Nothing escaped Scotty's eyes, from the festoons of dried apples suspended from the dark raftered ceiling to the pile of axe-handles on the floor in the corner. He sat utterly76 absorbed, while his grandfather and Store Thompson talked. There was much to tell on one side, at least, for Store Thompson and the schoolmaster took a weekly newspaper between them, and it all had to be gone over, especially the news from Scotland.
Store Thompson's wife, a bright, little red-checked woman came hustling77 in to greet Big Malcolm, and ask him in for a cup of tea. "Ah've had the Captain an' his sister an' the wee leddy to denner," she whispered proudly, "an' they'll jist be goin' in a minit, an' ye'll come an' have a cup o' tea with them, jist."
But Big Malcolm, who had arisen at her invitation, suddenly sat down again. His face darkened, and he stoutly78 refused the joint79 invitations of husband and wife. Then the lady espied80 Scotty in his corner, and bore down upon him; she secured a handful of pink "bull's-eyes" from a jar behind the counter, and slipped them into his chubby81 fist, patted his curly head and declared he was "jist Callum over again." And Scotty smiled up at her, well pleased at being likened to his hero; but when she caught his face between her hands and tried to kiss him, he dodged82 successfully; for, now that he was a big boy and going to school, not even Granny might kiss him in public.
When she had trotted83 back to her guests in the house, Scotty caught a few words of the conversation that aroused his interest.
"Ye hae the boys in wi' ye the day, Malcolm?" Store Thompson asked, with a note of anxiety in his voice.
"Yes?" Big Malcolm looked up inquiringly.
"Oh, Ah suppose it's jist naething, jist a—a triviality, like; but Ah see there's a great crood frae the Oa, the day, an' jist as many Murphys an' Connors; an' Ah heerd a lot o' wild talk aboot Fenians, an' the like. They would be sayin' Pat Murphy was a Fenian; an' that Tam Caldwell would be for sendin' him oot o' the Glen. Ah'm hopin' there'll be nae trouble."
Big Malcolm's face was full of anxiety. "Indeed, I will be hopin' so too," he said in an embarrassed tone. "You will be knowin' my weakness. I would not be hearin' about it. I hope the lads——"
"Oh, Ah suppose it's jist naething," said Store Thompson reassuringly84. "Indeed it's yersel' that's past all sich things as yon, Malcolm, never fear."
But Big Malcolm shook his head; for years he had purposely avoided the Glen, to be out of the way of temptation; for the sound of strife85 was to him like the bugle86 call to a war charger. He fidgeted in his seat and looked anxiously towards the door.
Scotty went over to the window and stood watching the crowds of men come and go across the street.
He could not quite make out what was going on, but there seemed to be a great commotion, for a big crowd of men had suddenly appeared from nowhere. And there was Danny's father, and Nancy's father, apparently87 having high words; and yes, there was Callum right in the centre of the seething mass.
There were mingled cries of "Popery" and "Fenians" and "Orangemen." Then suddenly above the noise there came a roar, "The Oa! The Oa! MacDonald! MacDonald!"
At the first sound of the MacDonalds' battle-cry Big Malcolm raised his head like a stag who has heard a challenge, and, at the boy's cry, he cleared the intervening space with one bound, flung open the door and shot out into the street.
"Malcolm, Malcolm!" cried Store Thompson in dismay, but Big Malcolm had heard the call to arms and nothing in the township of Oro could hold him back.
Scotty sprang to follow him, but Store Thompson closed the door, and his wife, who had re-entered, put her arms about the boy and drew him back.
"Ye mustna gang oot there, ma lad," said the storekeeper. "Yon's no place for a child; aye," he added, "an' no place for yer grandfather either!"
"Lemme go!" shouted Scotty, struggling equally with his captor and his sobs89. "They—'re—killin'—Rory! Lemme go!"
"Yer Grandaddy said ye were to bide90 here, laddie, mind ye!" cried Store Thompson's wife soothingly91.
At the reminder92 of his grandfather's commands Scotty collapsed93. He retired94 to the window once more, bathed in tears of helpless rage. But another shout from the MacDonalds sent him flying again to the door, where he once more encountered the ample skirts of his keeper.
"Ah'd niver look Marget Malcolm in the face again, Jeames, if onything happened the bairn," she cried, struggling with Scotty's sturdy muscles. "He maun jist bide!"
"What in heaven's name is the matter with that child?" demanded a laughing voice from the rear of the shop. "Has he an attack of spasms95?"
Scotty stopped struggling and looked up. In his absorption over the battle outside he had not noticed that three strangers had entered the shop with Store Thompson's wife, and he drew back abashed96. The speaker was a short, well-built man under middle age, with an air and appearance quite different from the rough exterior97 of Scotty's own people. There was a look of command in his merry blue eyes and an air of superiority in his straight, trim figure, that impressed the child. The other two strangers stood back by the stove; one, a tall lady, the rustle98 of whose black silk dress gave Scotty a feeling of awe99, the other a tiny girl, so wrapped up in furs and shawls that he could see nothing of her, except a bunch of golden curls.
"What's the matter with the confounded little fire-eater?" asked the man, coming forward.
"It's all his kin31 that's in yon fecht oot by, sir," said Store Thompson's wife apologetically. "The puir wee mannie!"
"Oh, I see; he's starting early. I never come to the Glen but you entertain me with a battle, James. A bad crowd, those fellows from the Flats. What's your name, youngster? Murphy, eh?"
"NO!" Scotty shouted the refutation in indignant horror. This was worse than being English! "It will be MacDonald!"
"Oh, by Jove, one of the Fighting MacDonalds!" The man burst into a hearty100 laugh. "I might have known."
"But yon's not yer real name, laddie," said Store Thompson's wife. "Tell Captain Herbert yer name; it's jist a fine one. He's Big Malcolm MacDonald's grandson, Captain, but his faether was an English gentleman, like yersel, an' his mither was a bonny, bonny bit lassie; aye, an' puir Marget lost her."
The man was gazing down at the boy absorbedly. "What's his name?" he demanded sharply. But Scotty stood silent and scowling101. Confess his disgrace to this man whom he knew Granddaddy despised? Never!
"His patronymic," said Store Thompson ceremoniously, "is Stanwell, Captain; and his baptismal name is jist the same as his father's was, Ralph Everett; Ralph Everett Stanwell!"
When Store Thompson delivered himself of any such high-sounding speech he was always rewarded by signs of a deep impression made upon his hearers. He had come to look for such results; but he was totally unprepared for the expression of aghast wonder that his words produced in the face of Captain Herbert.
"Stanwell!" he cried, "Ralph Stanwell!" He glanced hurriedly at the two standing102 at the other end of the shop and an expression of relief passed over his face when he saw the tall lady was not attending. "It can't be!" he said, lowering his tone, "Captain Stanwell's child died with the parents!"
"No, sir," said Store Thompson wonderingly. "Big Malcolm an' his son brought him from Toronto when he was jist an infant."
The man still stood gazing down at the boy. Scotty's face was dark with anger. Store Thompson, who pretended to be his grandfather's friend, to publish his disgrace before these strangers! It was unbearable103! "I'll not be English," he muttered. "I'll jist be Scotch104, an' my name's MacDonald!" He clenched105 his fists and wagged his curly head threateningly. "He must be right," said the man eagerly. "He should certainly know."
Store Thompson shook his head smilingly. "He lives in the Oa, sir," he confided106 in a low tone, "an' he wants to be a MacDonald. But yon's his name, nevertheless!"
Captain Herbert turned away abruptly107, as though he had not heard. "Eleanor, I shall be ready almost immediately," he said to the lady in the silk gown, and, with a hasty good-bye, he stepped outside, Store Thompson following. Scotty slipped out behind them; the fight was over, the Murphys and their friends were evidently retreating. He could see his grandfather's tall, commanding form in the midst of a victorious108 crowd. He drew a great breath of relief. As he stood gazing proudly at them, he felt his hand touched gently by little, soft, gloved fingers. He wheeled round to find a pair of big, blue eyes looking at him from out of the coquettish rim69 of a fur-trimmed hood109. The eyes were very sympathetic. "I'm Scotch, too," came in a whisper from inside the wrappings, "an' it's nice to be Scotch, isn't it?"
Scotty's heart opened immediately; here was someone who evidently believed in him.
"But—but, won't you be Captain Herbert's little girl?" he asked, wonderingly.
"Yes," she answered with a baby-lisp, that made him feel very big and superior. "He's my uncle Walter; but my mamma was Scotch, an' my name's Isabel Douglas Herbert, an' Uncle Walter says I'm his Scotch lassie!"
"Oh!" Scotty looked at her with new interest. "An' you're Kirsty John's little girl, too, ain't you?"
"Yes," she cried delightedly. "Do you know Kirsty?"
"Yes."
"Oh, an' Gran'mamma MacDonald? An' Weaver Jimmie?"
"Oh, yes!"
"I love Jimmie; he tells lovely stories when I go to see Kirsty, 'bout13 fairies, an'—an' everything. Do you know any stories?"
A silken rustle in the doorway110 made Scotty draw back. "Come, Isabel," said the tall lady. She was a very pale lady, with a haughty111, weary look in her eyes; and Scotty wondered how the little girl could catch hold of that silk dress so fearlessly.
"Goo-bye," she said, pausing a moment. "Goo-bye, little boy." She poked112 the fur-lined hood very close to his face, and Scotty drew back in alarm for fear she might be going to kiss him. The little girl looked disappointed, nevertheless she smiled radiantly.
"I like you," she whispered, "an' I'm comin' to visit you next time I go to Kirsty's; goo-bye!"
She danced off towards the sleigh, and was bundled in among the warm robes. She waved her hand to Scotty as they dashed away, and turned back to gaze at him standing on the step.
"Man," said Store Thompson, stamping the snow from his feet as he entered, "Ah niver saw the Captain act like yon before. He was jist,—aye, he was jist what Ah would call inimical; aye, jist inimical, like!"
Store Thompson was more perturbed113 over the hearty Captain's strange behaviour than he was over the commotion that had just taken place at his door. Such affairs were of too frequent occurrence to call for comment. But when Big Malcolm returned for Scotty, the fierce heat of the conflict still blazed in his eyes and his friend suddenly remembered what had happened.
"Eh, Malcolm, Malcolm, Ah'm sorry for this!" he cried. "These fichts are no work for a Chreestian man!"
"And would I be sitting here, James Thompson, an' see that piece o' Popish iniquity kill my son?" demanded Big Malcolm fiercely.
Store Thompson held up his hands. "What, what?" he cried, "would it be the Murphys and the MacDonalds again?"
"It was a Fenian raid, James!" shouted Tom Caldwell, coming up to the sleigh, with a proud swagger, "an' Malcolm here was helpin' us Orangemen put it down, sure!"
Weaver Jimmie, his diffidence all vanished, threw his cap into the air and shouted his old shibboleth114, "They may take Canady, but they'll not be taking Oro!"
"The Orangemen 'll kape Canada!" cried Tom Caldwell reassuringly.
"Hoh, him an' his 'kape Canada,'" cried Callum Fiach in disgust, as he pitched himself into the sleigh. "Let's get out o' this!"
"Eh, eh!" cried Store Thompson, standing in the doorway to see them depart, "ye MacDonalds are aye too ready wi' the neeves!"
Big Malcolm took the reins115 and drove away without another word. The joy of battle was always succeeded by a season of depression. His old friend's reproof116 had already begun to work repentance117 in his breast.
The homeward drive was silent and gloomy. Even Callum forbore to talk; for he was uncomfortably conscious that he had had more to do with setting the Orangemen and the Catholics against each other than he would like Big Malcolm to know. He had not foreseen that all the MacDonalds would plunge118 into it, and his father with them, and was rather uneasy at the havoc119 he had caused. For this would bring sorrow upon the mother at home.
But Scotty could not be silent, he was alive with curiosity; and, taking advantage of his grandfather's gloomy absorption, he crept out from between the two on the front seat, and got close to the source of all knowledge, Hamish.
He overflowed120 with questions. Why should the MacDonalds be helping121 Orangemen? And hadn't Hash Tucker's father and a lot more from the Tenth been on their side, too? And how in the name of all nationalities did it happen that the Caldwells and the Tuckers came to be fighting together against the Murphys? And weren't Orangemen far worse than Fenians, anyway?
The confusion in Scotty's mind was like that which befell the builders of the Tower of Babel; and for once Hamish failed to satisfy him. He seemed rather ashamed of the fact that they had helped a Caldwell in battle, and was rather inclined to drop the subject.
That evening at home was something new to Scotty. A gloomy silence pervaded the place, and there was a look in Granny's eyes that made the boy want to put his head into her lap and cry. There were no prayers before they retired, either; there always came a stage in Big Malcolm's repentence which consisted almost entirely122 of religious exercises, but that was not yet.
Scotty felt vaguely123 that there was something terribly wrong, for the boys, even Hamish, went off after supper, and Old Farquhar did not sing his accustomed song before retiring. And when Scotty went up to bed in the loft124 he left Granny praying by the bed in the corner, and he could hear the steady tramp, tramp of his grandfather's feet up and down in the snow outside. He half woke late in the night and found that Hamish was beside him; the problems of the day were still troubling his dreams.
"Where's Cape Canady? Tom Caldwell said somethin' about it, an' the Master learned the Fourth Class all about capes126 yesterday, an' he wouldn't be saying anything about that one!"
But Hamish was snoring; and outside the steady tramp, tramp of feet went up and down in the snow.
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1
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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cleaves
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| v.劈开，剁开，割开( cleave的第三人称单数 ) | |
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instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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internecine
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| adj.两败俱伤的 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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sepulchral
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| adj.坟墓的，阴深的 | |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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rosiest
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| adj.玫瑰色的( rosy的最高级 )；愉快的；乐观的；一切都称心如意 | |
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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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weaver
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| n.织布工；编织者 | |
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attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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16
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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17
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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18
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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19
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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20
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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21
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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22
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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23
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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24
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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25
massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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26
appendages
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| n.附属物( appendage的名词复数 )；依附的人；附属器官；附属肢体（如臂、腿、尾等） | |
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27
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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28
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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29
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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30
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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31
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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32
implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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33
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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34
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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35
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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36
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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37
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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38
exuberant
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| adj.充满活力的；（植物）繁茂的 | |
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39
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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40
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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41
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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42
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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43
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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44
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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45
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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46
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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47
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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48
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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49
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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50
miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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51
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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52
loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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53
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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54
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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55
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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56
hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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57
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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58
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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59
crucible
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| n.坩锅，严酷的考验 | |
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60
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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61
belligerent
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| adj.好战的，挑起战争的；n.交战国，交战者 | |
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62
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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63
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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64
iniquity
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| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
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65
influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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66
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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67
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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68
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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69
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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70
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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71
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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72
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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73
peppermint
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| n.薄荷，薄荷油，薄荷糖 | |
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74
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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75
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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76
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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77
hustling
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| 催促（hustle的现在分词形式） | |
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78
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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79
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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80
espied
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| v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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82
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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83
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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84
reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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85
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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86
bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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87
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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88
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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89
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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90
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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91
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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92
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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93
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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94
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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95
spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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96
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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98
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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99
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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100
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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101
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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102
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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103
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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104
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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105
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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107
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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108
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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109
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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110
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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111
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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112
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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113
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
shibboleth
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| n.陈规陋习；口令；暗语 | |
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115
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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116
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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117
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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118
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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119
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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120
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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121
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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122
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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123
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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124
loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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125
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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126
capes
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| 碎谷； 斗篷( cape的名词复数 )； 披肩； 海角； 岬 | |
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