“He’ll always be lame4,” the surgeon said, wiping his hands and gazing down at Michael, who lay, for the most part of him, a motionless prisoner set in plaster of Paris. “All the healing, and there’s plenty of it, will have to be by first intention. If his temperature shoots up we’ll have to put him out of his misery5. What’s he worth?”
“He has no tricks,” Collins answered. “Possibly fifty dollars, and certainly not that now. Lame dogs are not worth teaching tricks to.”
Time was to prove both men wrong. Michael was not destined6 to permanent lameness7, although in after-years his shoulder was always tender, and, on occasion, when the weather was damp, he was compelled to ease it with a slight limp. On the other hand, he was destined to appreciate to a great price and to become the star performer Harry8 Del Mar had predicted of him.
In the meantime he lay for many weary days in the plaster and abstained9 from raising a dangerous temperature. The care taken of him was excellent. But not out of love and affection was it given. It was merely a part of the system at Cedarwild which made the institution such a success. When he was taken out of the plaster, he was still denied that instinctive12 pleasure which all animals take in licking their wounds, for shrewdly arranged bandages were wrapped and buckled13 on him. And when they were finally removed, there were no wounds to lick; though deep in the shoulder was a pain that required months in which to die out.
Harris Collins bothered him no more with trying to teach him tricks, and, one day, loaned him as a filler-in to a man and woman who had lost three of their dog-troupe14 by pneumonia15.
“If he makes out you can have him for twenty dollars,” Collins told the man, Wilton Davis.
And when Michael departed from Cedarwild in a crate19 on an express wagon20, he might well have never returned, for Wilton Davis was notorious among trained-animal men for his cruelty to dogs. Some care he might take of a particular dog with a particularly valuable trick, but mere10 fillers-in came too cheaply. They cost from three to five dollars apiece. Worse than that, so far as he was concerned, Michael had cost nothing. And if he died it meant nothing to Davis except the trouble of finding another dog.
The first stage of Michael’s new adventure involved no unusual hardship, despite the fact that he was so cramped21 in his crate that he could not stand up and that the jolting22 and handling of the crate sent countless23 twinges of pain shooting through his shoulder. The journey was only to Brooklyn, where he was duly delivered to a second-rate theatre, Wilton Davis being so indifferent a second-rate animal man that he could never succeed in getting time with the big circuits.
The hardship of the cramped crate began after Michael had been carried into a big room above the stage and deposited with nearly a score of similarly crated24 dogs. A sorry lot they were, all of them scrubs and most of them spirit-broken and miserable25. Several had bad sores on their heads from being knocked about by Davis. No care was taken of these sores, and they were not improved by the whitening that was put on them for concealment26 whenever they performed. Some of them howled lamentably27 at times, and every little while, as if it were all that remained for them to do in their narrow cells, all of them would break out into barking.
Michael was the only one who did not join in these choruses. Long since, as one feature of his developing moroseness28, he had ceased from barking. He had become too unsociable for any such demonstrations29; nor did he pattern after the example of some of the sourer-tempered dogs in the room, who were for ever bickering30 and snarling31 through the slats of their cages. In fact, Michael’s sourness of temper had become too profound even for quarrelling. All he desired was to be let alone, and of this he had a surfeit32 for the first forty-eight hours.
Wilton Davis had assembled his troupe ahead of time, so that the change of programme was five days away. Having taken advantage of this to go to see his wife’s people over in New Jersey33, he had hired one of the stage-hands to feed and water his dogs. This the stage-hand would have done, had he not had the misfortune to get into an altercation34 with a barkeeper which culminated35 in a fractured skull36 and an ambulance ride to the receiving hospital. To make the situation perfect for what followed, the theatre was closed for three days in order to make certain alterations37 demanded by the Fire Commissioners38.
No one came near the room, and after several hours Michael grew aware of hunger and thirst. The time passed, and the desire for food was supplanted39 by the desire for water. By nightfall the barking and yelping41 became continuous, changing through the long night hours to whimpering and whining42. Michael alone made no sound, suffering dumbly in the bedlam43 of misery.
Morning of the second day dawned; the slow hours dragged by to the second night; and the darkness of the second night drew down upon a scene behind the scenes, sufficient of itself to condemn44 all trained-animal acts in all theatres and show-tents of all the world. Whether Michael dreamed or was in semi-delirium, there is no telling; but, whichever it was, he lived most of his past life over again. Again he played as a puppy on the broad verandas45 of Mister Haggin’s plantation46 bungalow47 at Meringe; or, with Jerry, stalked the edges of the jungle down by the river-bank to spy upon the crocodiles; or, learning from Mister Haggin and Bob, and patterning after Biddy and Terrence, to consider black men as lesser48 and despised gods who must for ever be kept strictly49 in their places.
On the schooner50 Eugénie he sailed with Captain Kellar, his second master, and on the beach at Tulagi lost his heart to Steward51 of the magic fingers and sailed away with him and Kwaque on the steamer Makambo. Steward was most in his visions, against a hazy52 background of vessels53, and of individuals like the Ancient Mariner54, Simon Nishikanta, Grimshaw, Captain Doane, and little old Ah Moy. Nor least of all did Scraps55 appear, and Cocky, the valiant-hearted little fluff of life gallantly56 bearing himself through his brief adventure in the sun. And it would seem to Michael that on one side, clinging to him, Cocky talked farrago in his ear, and on the other side Sara clung to him and chattered57 an interminable and incommunicable tale. And then, deep about the roots of his ears would seem to prod58 the magic, caressing59 fingers of Steward the beloved.
“I just don’t I have no luck,” Wilton Davis mourned, gazing about at his dogs, the air still vibrating with the string of oaths he had at first ripped out.
“That comes of trusting a drunken stage-hand,” his wife remarked placidly60. “I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them died on us now.”
“Well, this is no time for talk,” Davis snarled61, proceeding62 to take off his coat. “Get busy, my love, and learn the worst. Water’s what they need. I’ll give them a tub of it.”
Bucketful by bucketful, from the tap at the sink in the corner, he filled a large galvanized-iron tub. At sound of the running water the dogs began whimpering and yelping and moaning. Some tried to lick his hands with their swollen63 tongues as he dragged them roughly out of their cages. The weaker ones crawled and bellied64 toward the tub, and were over-trod by the stronger ones. There was not room for all, and the stronger ones drank first, with much fighting and squabbling and slashing65 of fangs66. Into the foremost of this was Michael, slashing and being slashed67, but managing to get hasty gulps68 of the life-saving fluid. Davis danced about among them, kicking right and left, so that all might have a chance. His wife took a hand, laying about her with a mop. It was a pandemonium69 of pain, for, their parched70 throats softened71 by the water, they were again able to yelp40 and cry out loudly all their hurt and woe72.
Several were too weak to get to the water, so it was carried to them and doused73 and splashed into their mouths. It seemed that they would never be satisfied. They lay in collapse74 all about the room, but every little while one or another would crawl over to the tub and try to drink more. In the meantime Davis had started a fire and filled a caldron with potatoes.
“The place stinks75 like a den11 of skunks,” Mrs. Davis observed, pausing from dabbing76 the end of her nose with a powder-puff. “Dearest, we’ll just have to wash them.”
“All right, sweetheart,” her husband agreed. “And the quicker the better. We can get through with it while the potatoes are boiling and cooling. I’ll scrub them and you dry them. Remember that pneumonia, and do it thoroughly77.”
It was quick, rough bathing. Reaching out for the dogs nearest him, he flung them in turn into the tub from which they had drunk. When they were frightened, or when they objected in any way, he rapped them on the head with the scrubbing brush or the bar of yellow laundry soap with which he was lathering78 them. Several minutes sufficed for a dog.
“Drink, damn you, drink—have some more,” he would say, as he shoved their heads down and under the dirty, soapy water.
He seemed to hold them responsible for their horrible condition, to look upon their filthiness79 as a personal affront80.
Michael yielded to being flung into the tub. He recognized that baths were necessary and compulsory81, although they were administered in much better fashion at Cedarwild, while Kwaque and Steward had made a sort of love function of it when they bathed him. So he did his best to endure the scrubbing, and all might have been well had not Davis soused him under. Michael jerked his head up with a warning growl82. Davis suspended half-way the blow he was delivering with the heavy brush, and emitted a low whistle of surprise.
“Hello!” he said. “And look who’s here!—Lovey, this is the Irish terrier I got from Collins. He’s no good. Collins said so. Just a fill-in.—Get out!” he commanded Michael. “That’s all you get now, Mr. Fresh Dog. But take it from me pretty soon you’ll be getting it fast enough to make you dizzy.”
While the potatoes were cooling, Mrs. Davis kept the hungry dogs warned away by sharp cries. Michael lay down sullenly84 to one side, and took no part in the rush for the trough when permission was given. Again Davis danced among them, kicking away the stronger and the more eager.
“If they get to fighting after all we’ve done for them, kick in their ribs85, lovey,” he told his wife.
“There! You would, would you?”—this to a large black dog, accompanied by a savage86 kick in the side. The animal yelped87 its pain as it fled away, and, from a safe distance, looked on piteously at the steaming food.
“Well, after this they can’t say I don’t never give my dogs a bath,” Davis remarked from the sink, where he was rinsing88 his arms. “What d’ye say we call it a day’s work, my dear?” Mrs. Davis nodded agreement. “We can rehearse them to-morrow and next day. That will be plenty of time. I’ll run in to-night and boil them some bran. They’ll need an extra meal after fasting two days.”
The potatoes finished, the dogs were put back in their cages for another twenty-four hours of close confinement89. Water was poured into their drinking-tins, and, in the evening, still in their cages, they were served liberally with boiled bran and dog-biscuit. This was Michael’s first food, for he had sulkily refused to go near the potatoes.
* * * * *
The rehearsing took place on the stage, and for Michael trouble came at the very start. The drop-curtain was supposed to go up and reveal the twenty dogs seated on chairs in a semi-circle. Because, while they were being thus arranged, the preceding turn was taking place in front of the drop-curtain, it was imperative90 that rigid91 silence should be kept. Next, when the curtain rose on full stage, the dogs were trained to make a great barking.
As a filler-in, Michael had nothing to do but sit on a chair. But he had to get upon the chair, first, and when Davis so ordered him he accompanied the order with a clout92 on the side of the head. Michael growled93 warningly.
“Oh, ho, eh?” the man sneered94. “It’s Fresh Dog looking for trouble. Well, you might as well get it over with now so your name can be changed to Good Dog.—My dear, just keep the rest of them in order while I teach Fresh Dog lesson number one.”
Of the beating that followed, the least said the better. Michael put up a fight that was hopeless, and was thoroughly beaten in return. Bruised95 and bleeding, he sat on the chair, taking no part in the performance and only sullenly engendering96 a deeper and bitterer sourness. To keep silent before the curtain went up was no hardship for him. But when the curtain did go up, he declined to join the rest of the dogs in their frantic97 barking and yelping.
The dogs, sometimes alone and sometimes in couples and trios and groups, left their chairs at command and performed the conventional dog tricks such as walking on hind-legs, hopping98, limping, waltzing, and throwing somersaults. Wilton Davis’s temper was short and his hand heavy throughout the rehearsal99, as the shrill100 yelps101 of pain from the lagging and stupid attested102.
In all, during that day and the forenoon of the next, three long rehearsals103 took place. Michael’s troubles ceased for the time being. At command, he silently got on the chair and silently sat there. “Which shows, dearest, what a bit of the stick will do,” Davis bragged104 to his wife. Nor did the pair of them dream of the scandalizing part Michael was going to play in their first performance.
Behind the curtain all was ready on the full stage. The dogs sat on their chairs in abject105 silence with Davis and his wife menacing them to remain silent, while, in front of the curtain, Dick and Daisy Bell delighted the matinée audience with their singing and dancing. And all went well, and no one in the audience would have suspected the full stage of dogs behind the curtain had not Dick and Daisy, accompanied by the orchestra, begun to sing “Roll Me Down to Rio.”
Michael could not help it. Even as Kwaque had long before mastered him by the jews’ harp83, and Steward by love, and Harry Del Mar by the harmonica, so now was he mastered by the strains of the orchestra and the voices of the man and woman lifting the old familiar rhythm, taught him by Steward, of “Roll Me Down to Rio.” Despite himself, despite his sullenness106, the forces compulsive opened his jaws107 and set all his throat vibrating in accompaniment.
From beyond the curtain came a titter of children and women that grew into a roar and drowned out the voices of Dick and Daisy. Wilton Davis cursed unbelievably as he sprang down the stage to Michael. But Michael howled on, and the audience laughed on. Michael was still howling when the short club smote108 him. The shock and hurt of it made him break off and yelp an involuntary cry of pain.
“Knock his block off, dearest,” Mrs. Davis counselled.
And then ensued battle royal. Davis struck shrewd blows that could be heard, as were heard the snarls109 and growls110 of Michael. The audience, under the sway of the comic, ignored Dick and Daisy Bell. Their turn was spoiled. The Davis turn was “queered,” as Wilton impressed it. Michael’s block was knocked off within the meaning of the term. And the audience, on the other side of the curtain, was edified111 and delighted.
Dick and Daisy could not continue. The audience wanted what was behind the curtain, not in front of it. Michael was taken off stage thoroughly throttled112 by one of the stage-hands, and the curtain arose on the full set—full, save for the one empty chair. The boys in the audience first realized the connection between the empty chair and the previous uproar113, and began clamouring for the absent dog. The audience took up the cry, the dogs barked more excitedly, and five minutes of hilarity114 delayed the turn which, when at last started, was marked by rustiness115 and erraticness on the part of the dogs and by great peevishness116 on the part of Wilton Davis.
“Never mind, honey,” his imperturbable117 wife assured him in a stage whisper. “We’ll just ditch that dog and get a regular one. And, anyway, we’ve put one over on that Daisy Bell. I ain’t told you yet what she said about me, only last week, to some of my friends.”
Several minutes later, still on the stage and handling his animals, the husband managed a chance to mutter to his wife: “It’s the dog. It’s him I’m after. I’m going to lay him out.”
“Yes, dearest,” she agreed.
The curtain down, with a gleeful audience in front and with the dogs back in the room over the stage, Wilton Davis descended118 to look for Michael, who, instead of cowering119 in some corner, stood between the legs of the stage-hand, quivering yet from his mishandling and threatening to fight as hard as ever if attacked. On his way, Davis encountered the song-and-dance couple. The woman was in a tearful rage, the man in a dry one.
“You’re a peach of a dog man, you are,” he announced belligerently120. “Here’s where you get yours.”
“You keep away from me, or I’ll lay you out,” Wilton Davis responded desperately121, brandishing122 a short iron bar in his right hand. “Besides, you just wait if you want to, and I’ll lay you out afterward123. But first of all I’m going to lay out that dog. Come on along and see—damn him! How was I to know? He was a new one. He never peeped in rehearsal. How was I to know he was going to yap when we arranged the set behind you?”
“You’ve raised hell,” the manager of the theatre greeted Davis, as the latter, trailed by Dick Bell, came upon Michael bristling124 from between the legs of the stage-hand.
“Nothing to what I’m going to raise,” Davis retorted, shortening his grip on the iron bar and raising it. “I’m going to kill ’m. I’m going to beat the life out of him. You just watch.”
Michael snarled acknowledgment of the threat, crouched125 to spring, and kept his eyes on the iron weapon.
“I just guess you ain’t goin’ to do anything of the sort,” the stage-hand assured Davis.
“It’s my property,” the latter asserted with an air of legal convincingness.
“And against it I’m goin’ to stack up my common sense,” was the stage-hand’s reply. “You tap him once, and see what you’ll get. Dogs is dogs, and men is men, but I’m damned if I know what you are. You can’t pull off rough stuff on that dog. First time he was on a stage in his life, after being starved and thirsted for two days. Oh, I know, Mr. Manager.”
“If you kill the dog it’ll cost you a dollar to the garbage man to get rid of the carcass,” the manager took up.
“I’ll pay it gladly,” Davis said, again lifting the iron bar. “I’ve got some come-back, ain’t I?”
“You animal guys make me sick,” the stage-hand uttered. “You just make me draw the line somewheres. And here it is: you tap him once with that baby crowbar, and I’ll tap you hard enough to lose me my job and to send you to hospital.”
“Now look here, Jackson . . . ” the manager began threateningly.
“You can’t say nothin’ to me,” was the retort. “My mind’s made up. If that cheap guy lays a finger on that dog I’m just sure goin’ to lose my job. I’m gettin tired anyway of seein’ these skates beatin’ up their animals. They’ve made me sick clean through.”
The manager looked to Davis and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
“There’s no use pulling off a rough-house,” he counselled. “I don’t want to lose Jackson and he’ll put you into hospital if he ever gets started. Send the dog back where you got him. Your wife’s told me about him. Stick him into a box and send him back collect. Collins won’t mind. He’ll take the singing out of him and work him into something.”
“I’ll tell you what,” the manager went on persuasively127. “Jackson will attend to the whole thing, box him up, ship him, everything—won’t you, Jackson?”
“Well,” Davis gave in, turning on his heel, “they can make fools of themselves over dogs, them that wants to. But when they’ve been in the business as long as I have . . . ”
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1
mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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radically
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| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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lameness
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| n. 跛, 瘸, 残废 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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abstained
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| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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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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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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troupe
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| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
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pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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croaks
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的第三人称单数 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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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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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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crated
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| 把…装入箱中( crate的过去式 ) | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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concealment
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lamentably
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| adv.哀伤地，拙劣地 | |
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moroseness
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demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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bickering
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| v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 )；口角；（水等）作潺潺声；闪烁 | |
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snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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surfeit
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| v.使饮食过度；n.(食物)过量，过度 | |
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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supplanted
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| 把…排挤掉，取代( supplant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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bedlam
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| n.混乱，骚乱；疯人院 | |
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condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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verandas
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| 阳台，走廊( veranda的名词复数 ) | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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53
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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54
mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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55
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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56
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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57
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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58
prod
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| vt.戳，刺；刺激，激励 | |
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59
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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60
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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61
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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62
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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63
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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64
bellied
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| adj.有腹的，大肚子的 | |
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65
slashing
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| adj.尖锐的；苛刻的；鲜明的；乱砍的v.挥砍( slash的现在分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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66
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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67
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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68
gulps
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| n.一大口（尤指液体）( gulp的名词复数 )v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的第三人称单数 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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69
pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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70
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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71
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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72
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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73
doused
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| v.浇水在…上( douse的过去式和过去分词 )；熄灯[火] | |
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74
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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75
stinks
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| v.散发出恶臭( stink的第三人称单数 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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76
dabbing
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| 石面凿毛，灰泥抛毛 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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78
lathering
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| n.痛打，怒骂v.（指肥皂）形成泡沫( lather的现在分词 )；用皂沫覆盖；狠狠地打 | |
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79
filthiness
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80
affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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81
compulsory
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| n.强制的，必修的；规定的，义务的 | |
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82
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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83
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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84
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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85
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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86
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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87
yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
rinsing
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| n.清水，残渣v.漂洗( rinse的现在分词 )；冲洗；用清水漂洗掉（肥皂泡等）；（用清水）冲掉 | |
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89
confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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90
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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91
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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92
clout
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| n.用手猛击；权力，影响力 | |
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93
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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94
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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96
engendering
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的现在分词 ) | |
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97
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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98
hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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99
rehearsal
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| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
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100
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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101
yelps
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| n.（因痛苦、气愤、兴奋等的）短而尖的叫声( yelp的名词复数 )v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的第三人称单数 ) | |
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102
attested
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| adj.经检验证明无病的，经检验证明无菌的v.证明( attest的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
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103
rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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104
bragged
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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106
sullenness
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| n. 愠怒, 沉闷, 情绪消沉 | |
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107
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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108
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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109
snarls
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| n.（动物的）龇牙低吼( snarl的名词复数 )；愤怒叫嚷（声）；咆哮（声）；疼痛叫声v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的第三人称单数 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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110
growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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111
edified
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| v.开导，启发( edify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
throttled
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| v.扼杀( throttle的过去式和过去分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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113
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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114
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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115
rustiness
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| 生锈，声音沙哑； 荒疏； 锈蚀 | |
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116
peevishness
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| 脾气不好；爱发牢骚 | |
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117
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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118
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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119
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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120
belligerently
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121
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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122
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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123
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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124
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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125
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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127
persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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128
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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129
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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