“Oh, please,” said Norah.
“Don't wake him,” said the Hermit. But Wally's hat, skilfully12 thrown, had already caught the slumberer14 on the side of the head.
Harry woke up with surprising promptness, and returned the offending head-gear with force and directness. Wally caught it deftly15 and rammed16 it over his eyes. He smiled underneath17 it at the Hermit like a happy cherub18.
“Now we're ready, sir,” he said. “Hold your row, Harry, the—this gentleman's going to spin us a yarn19. Keep awake if you can spare the time!”
“I don't know that you'll think it's much of a yarn,” the Hermit said hurriedly, entering the breach21 to endeavour to allay22 further discussion—somewhat to Jim's disappointment. “It's only the story of a pretty narrow escape.
“I had gone out fishing one afternoon about a month ago. It was a grand day for fishing—dull and cloudy. The sun was about somewhere, but you couldn't see anything of him, although you could feel his warmth. I'd been off colour for a few days, and had not been out foraging23 at all, and as a result, except for damper, my larder24 was quite empty.
“I went about a mile upstream. There's a splendid place for fishing there. The creek widens, and there's a still, deep pool, something like the pool at the place you call Anglers' Bend, only I think mine is deeper and stiller, and fishier! At all events, I have never failed to get fish there.
“I fished from the bank for a while, with not very good luck. At all events, it occurred to me that I could better it if I went out upon a big log that lay right across the creek—a tremendous tree it must have been, judging by the size of the trunk. You could almost ride across it, it's so wide—if you had a circus pony25, that is,” added the Hermit with a twinkle.
“So I gathered up my tackle, hung the fish I'd caught across a bough1 in the shade, and went out on the log, and here I had good luck at once. The fish bit just as soon as I put the bait into the water, and though a good many of them were small there were some very decent-sized ones amongst them. I threw the little chaps back, on the principle that—
Baby fish you throw away
Will make good sport another day,
and at last began to think I had caught nearly enough, even though I intended to salt some. However, just as I thought it was time to strike for camp, I had a tremendous bite. It nearly jerked the rod out of my hands!
“'Hallo!' I said to myself, 'here's a whale!' I played him for a bit, for he was the strongest fish I ever had on a line in this country, and at last he began to tire, and I reeled the line in. It seemed quite a long time before I caught a glimpse of his lordship—a tremendous perch26. I tell you I felt quite proud as his head came up out of the water.
“He was nearly up to the log, when he made a sudden, last leap in the air, and the quickness of it and his weight half threw me off my balance. I made a hurried step on the log, and my right foot slipped into a huge, gaping27 crack. It was only after I had made two or three ineffectual struggles to release it that I found I was stuck.
“Well I didn't realize the seriousness of the position for a few minutes,” the Hermit went on. “I could understand that I was wedged, but I certainly never dreamed that I could not, by dint28 of manoeuvring, wriggle29 my foot out of the crack. So I turned my attention to my big fish, and—standing in a most uncomfortable position—managed to land him; and a beauty he was, handsome as paint, with queer markings on his sides. I put him down carefully, and then tried to free myself.
“And I tried—and tried—and tried—until I was tired out, and stiff and hopeless. By that time it was nearly dark. After I had endeavoured unsuccessfully to get the boot clear, I unlaced it, and tried to get my foot out of it—but I was in a trifle too far for that, and try as I would I could not get it free. The crack was rather on the side of the log. I could not get a straight pull. Hurt? Yes, of course it hurt—not more from the pinching of the log, which you may try any time by screwing your foot up in a vice30, than from my own wild efforts to get clear. My foot and ankle were stiff and sore from my exertions31 long before I knocked off in despair. I might have tried to cut the wood away, had I not left my knife on the bank, where I was fishing first. I don't know that it would have done much good, anyhow.
“Well, I looked at the situation—in fact, I had been looking at it all the time. It wasn't a very cheering prospect32, either. The more I pondered over it, the less chance I saw of getting free. I had done all I could towards that end; now it only remained to wait for something to 'turn up.' And I was quite aware that nothing was in the least likely to turn up, and also that in all probability I would wear out some time before the log did.
“Night came on, and I was as hungry as a hunter—being a hunter, I knew just how hungry that is. I hadn't anything to eat except raw fish, and I wasn't quite equal to that yet. I had only one pipe of tobacco too, and you may be sure I made the most of that, I smoked it very, very slowly, and I wouldn't like to say how long it lasted.
“From time to time I made fresh attempts to release my foot—all unavailing, and all the more maddening because I could feel that my foot wasn't much caught—only just enough to hold it. But enough is as good as a feast! I felt that if I could get a straight pull at it I might get it out, and several times I nearly went head first into the water, overbalancing myself in the effort to get that straight pull. That wasn't a pleasant sensation—not so bad, indeed, if one had got as far as the water. But I pictured myself hanging from the log with a dislocated ankle, and the prospect was not inviting33.
“So the night crept on. I grew deadly sleepy, but of course I did not care to let myself go to sleep; but worse than that was the stiffness, and the cramp34 that tortured the imprisoned35 leg. You know how you want to jump when you've got cramp? Well, I wanted to jump at intervals36 of about a minute all through that night, and instead, I was more securely hobbled than any old horse I ever saw. The mosquitoes worried me too. Altogether it was not the sort of entertainment you would select from choice!
“And then, just as day began to dawn, the sleepiness got the better of me. I fought it unavailingly; but at last I knew I could keep awake no longer, and I shut my eyes.
“I don't know how long I slept—it couldn't have been for any time, for it was not broad daylight when I opened my eyes again. Besides, the circumstances weren't the kind to induce calm and peaceful slumber13.
“I woke up with a start, and in my dreams I seemed to hear myself crying out with pain—for a spasm37 of cramp had seized me, and it was like a red-hot iron thrust up my leg. I was only half awake—not realizing my position a bit. I made a sudden spring, and the next moment off I went, headlong!
“I don't suppose,” said the Hermit reflectively, poking38 a stem of grass down his pipe, “that I'll ever lose the memory of the sudden, abject39 terror of that moment. They say 'as easy as falling off a log,' and it certainly doesn't take an able-bodied man long to fall off one, as a rule; but it seemed to me that I was hours and years waiting for the jerk to come on my imprisoned foot. I'm sure I lived through half a lifetime before it really came.
“Then it came—and I hardly felt it! There was just a sudden pull—scarcely enough to hurt very much, and the old boot yielded. Sole from upper, it came clean away, and the pressure on my foot alone wasn't enough to hold me. It was so unexpected that I didn't realize I was free until I struck the water, and went down right into the mud at the bottom of the creek.
“That woke me up, I can assure you. I came up choking and spluttering, and blinded with the mud—I wouldn't like to tell you for a moment that it was pleasant, but I can truthfully say I never was more relieved in my life. I struck out for the bank, and got out of the water, and then sat down on the grass and wondered why on earth I hadn't made up my mind to jump off that log before.
“I hadn't any boot left—the remainder had been kicked off as I swam ashore40. I made my way along the log that had held me so fast all night, and there, wedged as tight as ever in the crack, was my old sole! It's there still—unless the mosquitoes have eaten it. I limped home with my fish, cleaned them, had a meal and went to bed—and I didn't get up until next day, either!
“And so, Mr. Wally, I venture to think that it was my boot that you landed this morning,” the Hermit said gravely. “I don't grudge41 it to you; I can't say I ever wish to see it again. You”—magnanimously—“may have it for your very own!”
“But I chucked it back again!” blurted42 out Wally, amidst a roar of laughter from Jim and Harry at his dismayed face.
“I forgive you!” said the Hermit, joining in the laugh. “I admit it was a relic43 which didn't advertise its own fame.”
“I guess you'd never want to see it again,” Jim said. “That was a pretty narrow escape—if your foot had been in just a bit farther you might have been hanging from that old log now!”
“That was my own idea all that night,” observed the Hermit; “and then Wally wouldn't have caught any more than the rest of you this morning! And that reminds me, I promised to show you a good fishing-place. Don't you think, if you've had enough of my prosy yarning44, that we'd better make a start?”
The party gathered itself up with alacrity45 from the grass. Lines were hurriedly examined, and the bait tin, when investigated, proved to contain an ample supply of succulent grubs and other dainties calculated to tempt the most fastidious of fish.
“All ready?” said the Hermit.
“Hold on a minute,” Jim said. “I'll let Billy know where we're going.”
Billy was found fishing stolidly46 from a log. Three blackfish testified to his skill with the rod, at which Wally whistled disgustedly and Norah laughed.
“No good to be jealous of Billy's luck,” she said. “He can always get fish, when nobody else can find even a nibble47. Mrs. Brown says he's got the light hand like hers for pastry48.”
The Hermit laughed.
“I like Mrs. Brown's simile,” he said. “If that was her pastry in those turnovers49 at lunch, Miss Norah, I certainly agree that she has 'the light hand.'”
“Mrs. Brown's like the cook in The Ingoldsby Legends, Dad says,” Norah remarked.
“What,” said the Hermit—
“For soups and stews50, and French regouts, Nell Cook is famous still—?” finished Norah delightedly. “However did you know, Mr. Hermit?”
The Hermit laughed, but a shade crossed his brow. “I used to read the Legends with a dear old friend many years before you were born, Miss Norah,” he said gravely. “I often wonder whether he still reads them.”
“Ready?” Jim interrupted, springing up the bank. “Billy understands about feeding the ponies51. Don't forget, mind, Billy.”
“Plenty!” quoth Billy, and the party went on its way. The Hermit led them rapidly over logs and fallen trees, up and down gullies, and through tangles52 of thickly growing scrub. Once or twice it occurred to Jim that they were trusting very confidingly53 to this man, of whom they knew absolutely nothing; and a faint shade of uneasiness crossed his mind. He felt responsible, as the eldest54 of the youngsters, knowing that his father had placed him in charge, and that he was expected to exercise a certain amount of caution. Still it was hard to fancy anything wrong, looking at the Hermit's serene55 face, and the trusting way in which Norah's brown little hand was placed in his strong grasp. The other boys were quite unconscious of any uncomfortable ideas, and Jim finally dismissed his fears as uncalled for.
“I thought,” said the Hermit, suddenly turning, “of taking you to see my camp as we went, but on second thoughts I decided56 that it would be better to get straight to work, as you young people want some fish, I suppose, to take home. Perhaps we can look in at my camp as we come back. It's not far from here.”
“Which way do you generally go to the river?” Norah asked.
“Why, anyway,” the Hermit answered. “Generally in this direction. Why do you ask, Miss Norah?”
“I was wondering,” Norah said. “We haven't crossed or met a single track.”
The Hermit laughed.
“No,” he said, “I take very good care not to leave tracks if I can avoid it. You see, I'm a solitary57 fellow, Miss Norah, and prefer, as a rule, to keep to myself. Apart from that, I often leave camp for the greater part of the day when I'm fishing or hunting, and I've no wish to point out the way to my domain58 to any wanderers. Not that I've much to lose, still there are some things. Picture my harrowed feelings were I to return some evening and find my beloved frying-pan gone!”
Norah laughed.
“It would be awful,” she said.
“So I planned my camp very cunningly,” continued the Hermit, “and I can tell you it took some planning to contrive59 it so that it shouldn't be too easily visible.”
“Well, it isn't from the side I came on it,” Norah put in; “I never dreamed of anything being there until I was right on the camp. It did surprise me!”
“And me,” said the Hermit drily. “Well that is how I tried to arrange camp, and you could be within a dozen yards of it on any side without imagining that any was near.”
“But surely you must have made some sort of a track leading away from it,” said Jim, “unless you fly out!”
The Hermit laughed.
“I'll show you later how I manage that,” he said.
The bush grew denser60 as the little party, led by the Hermit, pushed along, and Jim was somewhat surprised at the easy certainty with which their guide led the way, since there was no sign of a track. Being a silent youth, he held his tongue on the matter; but Wally was not so reserved.
“However d'you find your way along here?” he asked. “I don't even know whether we're near the creek or not.”
“If we kept still a moment you'd know,” the Hermit said. “Listen!” He held up his hand and they all stood still. There came faintly to their ears a musical splash of water.
“There's a little waterfall just in there,” the Hermit said, “nothing much, unless the creek is very low, and then there is a greater drop for the water. So you see we haven't got far from the creek. How do I know the way? Why, I feel it mostly, and if I couldn't feel it, there are plenty of landmarks61. Every big tree is as good as a signpost once you know the way a bit, and I've been along here pretty often, so there's nothing in it, you see, Wally.”
“Do you like the bush, Mr. Hermit?” Norah asked.
The Hermit hesitated.
“Sometimes I hate it, I think, Miss Norah,” he said, “when the loneliness of it comes over me, and all the queer sounds of it bother me and keep me awake. Then I realise that I'm really a good way from anywhere, and I get what are familiarly called the blues62. However, that's not at all times, and indeed mostly I love it very much, its great quietness and its beauty; and then it's so companionable, though perhaps you're a bit young to understand that. Anyhow, I have my mates, not only old Turpentine, my snake, but others—wallabies that have come to recognise me as harmless, for I never hunt anywhere near home, the laughing jackasses, two of them, that come and guffaw63 to me every morning, the pheasants that I watch capering64 and strutting65 on the logs hidden in the scrub. Even the plants become friends; there are creepers near my camp that I've watched from babyhood, and more than one big tree with which I've at least a nodding acquaintance!”
He broke off suddenly.
“Look, there's a friend of mine!” he said gently. They were crossing a little gully, and a few yards on their right a big wallaby sat staring at them, gravely inquisitive66. It certainly would not have been human nature if Jim had not longed for a gun; but the wallaby was evidently quite ignorant of such a thing, and took them all in with his cool stare. At length Wally sneezed violently, whereat the wallaby started, regarded the disturber of his peace with an alarmed air, and finally bounded off into the scrub.
“There you go!” said the Hermit good-humouredly, “scaring my poor beastie out of his wits.”
“No, a sneeze will out, like truth, won't it?” the Hermit laughed. “That's how Miss Norah announced herself to me to-day. I might never have known she was there if she hadn't obligingly sneezed! I hope. you're not getting colds, children!” the Hermit added, with mock concern.
“Not much!” said Wally and Norah in a breath.
“Just after I came here,” said the Hermit, “I was pretty short of tucker, and it wasn't a good time for fishing, so I was dependent on my gun for most of my provisions. So one day, feeling much annoyed after a breakfast of damper and jam, I took the gun and went off to stock up the larder.
“I went a good way without any luck. There didn't seem anything to shoot in all the bush, though you may be sure I kept my eyes about me. I was beginning to grow disheartened. At length I made my way down to the creek. Just as I got near it, I heard a whirr-r-r over my head, and looking up, I saw a flock of wild duck. They seemed to pause a moment, and then dropped downwards68. I couldn't see where they alighted, but of course I knew it must be in the creek.
“Well, I didn't pause,” said the Hermit. “I just made my way down to the creek as quickly as ever I could, remaining noiseless at the same time. Ducks are easily scared, and I knew my hopes of dinner were poor if these chaps saw me too soon.
“So I sneaked69 down. Pretty soon I got a glimpse of the creek, which was very wide at that point, and fringed with weeds. The ducks were calmly swimming on its broad surface, a splendid lot of them, and I can assure you a very tempting70 sight to a hungry man.
“However, I didn't waste time in admiration71. I couldn't very well risk a shot from where I was, it was a bit too far, and the old gun I had wasn't very brilliant. So I crept along, crawled down a bank, and found myself on a flat that ran to the water's edge, where reeds, growing thickly, screened me from the ducks' sight.
“That was simple enough. I crawled across this flat, taking no chances, careless of mud, and wet, and sword grass, which isn't the nicest thing to crawl among at any time, as you can imagine; it's absolutely merciless to face and hands.”
“And jolly awkward to stalk ducks in,” Jim commented, “the rustle72 would give you away in no time.”
The Hermit nodded.
“Yes,” he said, “that's its worst drawback, or was, on this occasion. It certainly did rustle; however, I crept very slowly, and the ducks were kind enough to think I was the wind stirring in the reeds. At any rate, they went on swimming, and feeding quite peacefully. I got a good look at them through the fringe of reeds, and then, like a duffer, although I had a good enough position, I must try and get a better one.
“So I crawled a little farther down the bank, trying to reach a knoll73 which would give me a fine sight of the game, and at the same time form a convenient rest for my gun. I had almost reached it when the sad thing happened. A tall, spear-like reed, bending over, gently and intrusively74 tickled75 my nose, and without the slightest warning, and very greatly to my own amazement76, I sneezed violently.
“If I was amazed, what were the ducks! The sneeze was so unmistakably human, so unspeakably violent. There was one wild whirr of wings, and my ducks scrambled77 off the placid78 surface of the water like things possessed79. I threw up my gun and fired wildly; there was no time for deliberate taking of aim, with the birds already half over the ti-tree at the other side.”
“Did you get any?” Jim asked.
“One duck,” said the Hermit sadly. “And even for him I had to swim; he obligingly chose a watery80 grave just to spite me, I believe. He wasn't much of a duck either. After I had stripped and swum for him, dressed again, prepared the duck, cooked him, and finally sat down to dinner, there was so little of him that he only amounted to half a meal, and was tough at that!”
“So was your luck,” observed Wally.
“Uncommonly tough,” agreed the Hermit. “However, these things are the fortunes of war, and one has to put up with them, grin, and play the game. It's surprising how much tougher things look if you once begin to grumble81. I've had so much bad luck in the bush that I've really got quite used to it.”
“How's that?” asked Harry.
“Why,” said the Hermit, “if it wasn't one thing, it was mostly another. I beg your pardon, Miss Norah, let me help you over this log. I've had my tucker stolen again and again, several times by birds, twice by swaggies, and once by a couple of black fellows pilgrimaging through the bush I don't know whither. They happened on my camp, and helped themselves; I reckoned myself very lucky that they only took food, though I've no doubt they would have taken more if I hadn't arrived on the scene in the nick of time and scared them almost out of their wits.”
“How did you do that?” asked Norah; “tell us about it, Mr. Hermit!”
The Hermit smiled down at Norah's eager face.
“Oh, that's hardly a yarn, Miss Norah,” he said, his eyes twinkling in a way that made them look astonishingly young, despite his white hair and his wrinkles. “That was only a small happening, though it capped a day of bad luck. I had been busy in camp all the morning cooking, and had laid in quite a supply of tucker, for me. I'd cooked some wild duck, and roasted a hare, boiled a most splendid plum-duff and finally baked a big damper, and I can tell you I was patting myself on the back because I need not do any more cooking for nearly a week, unless it were fish—I'm not a cook by nature, and pretty often go hungry rather than prepare a meal.
“After dinner I thought I'd go down to the creek and try my luck—it was a perfect day for fishing, still and grey. So I dug some worms—and broke my spade in doing so—and started off.
“The promise of the day held good. I went to my favourite spot, and the fish just rushed me—the worms must have been very tempting, or else the fish larder was scantily82 supplied. At any rate, they bit splendidly, and soon I grew fastidious, and was picking out and throwing back any that weren't quite large enough. I fished from the old log over the creek, and soon had a pile of fish, and grew tired of the sport. I was sleepy, too, through hanging over the fire all the morning. I kept on fishing mechanically, but it was little more than holding my bait in the water, and I began nodding and dozing83, leaning back on the broad old log.
“I didn't think I had really gone to sleep, though I suppose I must have done so, because I dreamed a kind of half-waking dream. In it I saw a snake that crept and crept nearer and nearer to me until I could see its wicked eyes gleaming, and though I tried to get away, I could not. It came on and on until it was quite near, and I was feeling highly uncomfortable in my dream. At last I made a great effort, flung out my hand towards a stick, and, with a yell, woke up, to realise that I had struck something cold, and clammy, and wet. What it was I couldn't be certain for an instant, until I heard a dull splash, and then I knew. I had swept my whole string of fish into the water below!
“Oh, yes, I said things—who wouldn't? I was too disgusted to fish any more, and the nightmare having thoroughly84 roused me, I gathered up my tackle and made tracks for home, feeling considerably85 annoyed with myself.
“You must know I've a private entrance into my camp. It's a track no one would suspect of being a track, and by its aid I can approach noiselessly. I've got into a habit of always sneaking86 back to camp—just in case anyone should be there. This afternoon I came along quietly, more from force of habit than from any real idea of looking out for intruders. But half-way along it a sound pulled me up suddenly. It was the sound of a voice.
“When you haven't heard anyone speak for a good many months, the human voice has quite a startling effect upon you—or even the human sneeze, Miss Norah!” added the Hermit, with a twinkle. “I stopped short and listened with all my might. Presently the voice came again, low and guttural, and I knew it for a native's.
“The conviction didn't fill me with joy, as you may imagine. I stole forward, until by peeping through the bushes I gained a view of the camp—and was rewarded with the spectacle of two blacks—ill-favoured brutes87 they were, too—quite at home, one in the act of stuffing my cherished roast hare into a dirty bag, the other just taking a huge bite out of my damper!
“The sight, as you may imagine, didn't fill me with joy. From the bulges88 in my black visitors' bag I gathered that the ducks had preceded the hare; and even as I looked, the gentleman with the damper relaxed his well-meant efforts, and thrust it, too, into the bag. Then they put down the bag and dived into the tent, and I heard rustlings and low-toned remarks that breathed satisfaction. I reckoned it was time to step in.
“Luckily, my gun was outside the tent—indeed I never leave it inside, but have a special hiding-place for it under a handy log, for fear of stray marauders overhauling89 my possessions. A gun is a pretty tempting thing to most men, and since my duck-shooting failure I had treated myself to a new double-barrel—a beauty.
“I crept to the log, drew out both guns, and then retired90 to the bushes—a little uncertain, to tell the truth, what to do, for I hadn't any particular wish to murder my dusky callers; and at the same time, had to remember that they were two to one, and would be unhampered by any feeling of chivalry91, if we did come to blows. I made up my mind to try to scare them—and suddenly I raised the most horrible, terrifying, unearthly yell I could think of, and at the same time fired both barrels of one gun quickly in the air!
“The effect was instantaneous. There was one howl of horror, and the black fellows darted92 out of the tent! They almost cannoned93 into me—and you know I must look a rum chap in these furry94 clothes and cap, with my grandfatherly white beard! At all events, they seemed to think me so, for at sight of me they both yelled in terror, and bolted away as fast as their legs could carry them. I cheered the parting guests by howling still more heartily95, and firing my two remaining barrels over their heads as they ran. They went as swiftly as a motor-car disappears from view—I believe they reckoned they'd seen the bunyip. I haven't seen a trace of them since.
“They'd had a fine time inside the tent. Everything I possessed had been investigated, and one or two books badly torn—the wretches96!” said the Hermit ruefully. “My clothes (I've a few garments beside these beauties, Miss Norah) had been pulled about, my few papers scattered97 wildly, and even my bunk98 stripped of blankets, which lay rolled up ready to be carried away. There wasn't a single one of my poor possessions that had escaped notice, except, of course, my watch and money, which I keep carefully buried. The tent was a remarkable99 spectacle, and so close and reminiscent of black fellow that my first act was to undo100 the sides and let the fresh air play through. I counted myself very lucky to get off as lightly as I did—had I returned an hour later none of my goods and chattels101 would have been left.”
“What about the tucker?” Harry asked; “did they get away with the bag they'd stowed it in?”
“Not they!” said the Hermit; “they were far too scared to think of bags or tucker. They almost fell over it in their efforts to escape, but neither of them thought of picking it up. It was hard luck for them, after they'd packed it so carefully.”
“Is that how you looked at it?” Jim asked, laughing.
“Well—I tried to,” said the Hermit, laughing in his turn. “Sometimes it was pretty hard work—and I'll admit that for the first few days my own misfortunes were uppermost.”
“But you didn't lose your tucker after all, you said?” queried Wally. “I thought they left the bag?”
“They did,” the Hermit admitted. “But have you ever explored the interior of a black fellow's bag, Master Wally? No? Well, if you had, you would understand that I felt no further hankerings over those masterpieces of the cook's art. I'm not extra particular, I believe, but I couldn't tackle them—no thanks! I threw them into the scrub—and then washed my hands!”
“Poor you!” said Norah.
“Oh, I wasn't so badly off,” said the Hermit. “They'd left me the plum-duff, which was hanging in its billy from a bough. Lots of duff—I had it morning, noon and night, until I found something fresh to cook—and I haven't made duff since. And here we are at the creek!”
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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slumberer
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| 睡眠者，微睡者 | |
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15
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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17
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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18
cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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19
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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20
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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21
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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22
allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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23
foraging
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的现在分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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24
larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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25
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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26
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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27
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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28
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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29
wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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30
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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31
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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32
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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33
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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34
cramp
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| n.痉挛；[pl.](腹)绞痛；vt.限制，束缚 | |
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35
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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37
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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38
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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39
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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40
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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41
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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42
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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44
yarning
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| vi.讲故事（yarn的现在分词形式） | |
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45
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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46
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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47
nibble
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| n.轻咬，啃；v.一点点地咬，慢慢啃，吹毛求疵 | |
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48
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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49
turnovers
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| n.营业额( turnover的名词复数 )；失误（篮球术语）；职工流动率；（商店的）货物周转率 | |
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50
stews
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| n.炖煮的菜肴( stew的名词复数 )；烦恼，焦虑v.炖( stew的第三人称单数 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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51
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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52
tangles
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| （使）缠结， （使）乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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53
confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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54
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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55
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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57
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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58
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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59
contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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60
denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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61
landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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62
blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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63
guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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64
capering
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| v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的现在分词 )；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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65
strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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66
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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67
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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69
sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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70
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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71
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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72
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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73
knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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74
intrusively
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| adv.干扰地，侵入地 | |
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75
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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76
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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77
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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78
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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79
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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80
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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81
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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82
scantily
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| adv.缺乏地；不充足地；吝啬地；狭窄地 | |
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83
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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84
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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85
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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86
sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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87
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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88
bulges
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| 膨胀( bulge的名词复数 )； 鼓起； （身体的）肥胖部位； 暂时的激增 | |
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89
overhauling
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| n.大修；拆修；卸修；翻修v.彻底检查( overhaul的现在分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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90
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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91
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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92
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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93
cannoned
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| vi.与…猛撞（cannon的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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94
furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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95
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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96
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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97
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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98
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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99
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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100
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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101
chattels
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| n.动产，奴隶( chattel的名词复数 ) | |
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