Since then both she and her companion had leaned back in their several corners and preserved an unbroken silence. Even the driver’s tongue had showed the benumbing effects of the darkness and cold, and the flow of conversation with which, earlier in the day, he had entertained his fares, gradually languished9 and died.
The surrey sped swiftly along the road which wound in spectral10 pallor over the shoulder of the foot-hill, now dipping into the blackness of a ravine, then creeping up a bare slope, where the horses’ hoofs11 dug in laboriously13 amid loosened stones. The solemn loneliness of the landscape, faintly revealed by the light of large, clear stars, seemed to find appropriate expression in this frosty, smoke-breathing stillness. There was not a sign of human life. The gray patches of fields melted into the clouded darkness of trees. The domes15 of the live-oaks were like cairns of funereal16 rock in the open spaces. Steep, woody slopes swept upward, in the daytime shivering coppices of wintry leafage pierced by spires17 of fir and pine, now densely18 black and mysterious under the transforming magic of the night. Over all an expanse of sky arched, the vast, calm sky of mountain regions and Nature’s undesecrated places, crystal-clear and velvet-dark, the light of its stars seeming to come, tapping messages in an unknown telegraphy, from illimitable distances.
The larger figure on the back seat moved, and turned a face, all of which was hidden save the eyes, toward its companion.
“Hungry?” queried19 a deep bass20 voice; the inquiring polysyllable shot out suddenly over an upturned bulwark21 of collars.
“Fearfully,” came the answer in a muffled22 feminine treble, that suited the more diminutive23 bulk.
At these words the woman pricked26 up her ears, and, leaning forward, peered ahead. As they rounded a protruding27 angle of hill, a huddle28 of roofs and walls spotted29 with lights came into view, and the sight drew her hand forward with an eagerly-pointing finger.
“So that’s Rocky Bar!” she cried. “Have we really got there at last?”
“That’s Rocky Bar all right. Now get your appetite good and ready.”
“No need,” she responded gaily31; “it’s been ready and waiting for hours. I was beginning to think that you’d lost your way.”
“Me!” with an accent of incredulous scorn. “Ah, get out! How does it come, Governor, that Bill Cannon32’s girl don’t know no more about these parts than a young lady from New York?”
“She’s never been up here before,” said the man on the back seat, beginning to untangle himself from his enfolding rugs. “I’ve brought her up with me this time to show her some of the places where her pa used to work round with the boys, long before she was ever thought of.”
A loud barking of dogs broke out as they approached the first detached houses of the settlement. Shapes appeared at the lighted doorways33, and as the surrey drew up at the hotel balcony a crowding of heads was seen in the windows. The entire population of Rocky Bar spent its evenings at this hospitable35 resort, in summer on the balcony under the shade of the locust36 trees, in winter round the office stove, spitting and smoking in cheery sociability37. But at this hour the great event of Rocky Bar’s day was over. The eight stages, the passengers of which dined at the hotel, had long passed onward38 on their various routes up and down the “mother lode” and into the camps of the Sierra. That the nightly excitement of the “victualing up” was to be supplemented by a late arrival in a surrey, driven by Jake McVeigh, the proprietor39 of the San Jacinto stables, and accompanied by a woman, was a sensational40 event not often awarded to Rocky Bar, even in the heyday41 of summer-time.
The occupants of the office crowded into the doorway34 and pressed themselves against the windows. They saw that the man who alighted was a thick-set, portly figure, with a short, gray beard and a suggestion of gray hair below the brim of a black wide-awake. Of the lady, shown but dimly by the light of the open door, only a slim, cloaked outline and a glint of fair hair were discernible. But, anyway, it was a woman, and of a kind unusual in Rocky Bar, and the men stared, sunk in bashful appreciation42 of a beauty that they felt must exist, if it were only to be in keeping with the hour, the circumstances, and their own hopeful admiration43.
The hotel proprietor, an ancient man with a loosened vest, and trousers tucked into long boots, dispersed44 them as he ushered45 the strangers into the office. That they were travelers of distinction was obvious, as much from their own appearance as from the fact that Jake McVeigh was driving them himself, in his best surrey and with his finest team. But just how important they were no one guessed till McVeigh followed them in, and into ears stretched for the information dropped the sentence, half-heard, like a stage aside:
“It’s Bill Cannon and his daughter Rose.”
Upon the proprietor it had an electric effect. He sped from the room with the alertness of youth, promising46 “a cold lunch” in a minute. To the others it came as a piece of intelligence that added awe47 to the lighter48 emotions of the occasion. By common consent their eyes focused on the great man who stood warming his hands at the stove. Even the rare, unusual woman, revealed now as sufficiently49 pretty to be an object of future dreams, was interesting only to the younger and more impressionable members of the throng6. All but these gazed absorbed, unblinking, at Bill Cannon, the Bonanza50 King.
He was used to it. It had been a part of his life for years. Eying his admirers with a genial51 good humor, he entered into conversation with them, his manner marked by an easy familiarity, which swept away all shades of embarrassment52, and drew the men around the stove, eager to respond to his questions as to the condition and prospects53 of the locality. The talk was becoming general and animated54, when the ancient man returned and announced that the “cold lunch” was ready and to please “step after him into the dining-room.”
This gaunt apartment, grimly unadorned and faintly illumined, an occasional lantern backed by a tin reflector projecting a feeble light into its echoing emptiness, was swept of all intruders, and showed a barn-like bareness of wall and loftiness of roof. Lines of tables, uncovered between flanking wooden benches, were arranged down its length. Across the end of one of these a white cloth was spread and three places set. Jake McVeigh, less innocently democratic than the hotel proprietor, was about to withdraw from the society of his distinguished55 patron and seat himself in seemly loneliness at an adjacent table, when Bill Cannon’s voice arrested him.
“What are you going off there for, sonny, as if you were a leper? Come over here and sit side of us.”
The driver, greatly pleased, not only to enjoy the companionship of the richest man in California but to let the peeping heads in the doorway see him in this moment of proud apotheosis56, took the third seat with modest complacence. Like most of his kind, the sense of social inferiority was unknown to him. He was simply and naturally himself as he would be anywhere in any company. Even the proximity57 of Miss Cannon did not abash58 him, and he dexterously59 propelled the potatoes into his mouth with his knife and cut fiercely at his meat with a sawing motion, talking the while with all the freedom and more than the pleasure with which he talked to his wife in the kitchen at San Jacinto.
Cannon, his overcoat removed, was seen to be a powerful, thick-set man, with a bulkiness that was more a matter of broad build and muscular development than fat. His coat set ill upon him and strained at the buttons. It had the effect of having worked up toward the shoulders, noticeable in the clothes of men who are deep-chested and sit bunchily. He had a short neck which he accommodated with a turn-down collar, a gray beard, clipped close to his cheeks and square on the chin, and gray hair, worn rather long and combed sleekly60 and without parting back from his forehead. In age he was close to seventy, but the alertness and intelligence of a conquering energy and vitality61 were in his glance, and showed in his movements, deliberate, but sure and full of precision. He spoke62 little as he ate his dinner, leaning over his plate and responding to the remarks of his daughter with an occasional monosyllable that might have sounded curt63, had it not been accompanied with a lazy cast of his eye upon her that was as full of affection as a caress64.
The young lady, who had also put off her outer wraps, still wore her hat, which was wide-brimmed and cast a shadow over the upper part of her face. Below it her hair showed a fine, bright blonde, giving forth65 silky gleams in the lamplight. To the peeping heads in the doorway she seemed a creature instinct with romantic charm, which was expressed in such delicacies66 of appearance as a pearl-white throat, a rounded chin, and lips that smiled readily. These graces, eagerly deciphered through dimness and distance, had the attraction of the semi-seen, and imagination, thus given an encouraging fillip, invested Bill Cannon’s girl with a haunting beauty. It was remarked that she bore no resemblance to her father in coloring, features, or build. In talking it over later, Rocky Bar decided67 that she must favor her mother, who, as all California knew, had been a waitress in the Yuba Hotel at Marysville, when Bill Cannon, then a miner in the Freeze-Out, had wooed and won her.
The conversation between the diners was desultory68. They were beyond doubt hungry. Even the young lady was seen to consume the viands69 set before her with more gusto than a restraining sense of romantic fitness would have dictated70. Once or twice, as she bit a semicircle out of a round of buttered bread, her eye, questing sidewise full of sly humor, caught McVeigh’s, and a sputter71 of laughter left her with humped-up shoulders, her lips lightly compressed on the mouthful.
It was toward the end of the meal, that, looking at the opposite wall, her glance was caught by a large clock to which she drew her father’s attention:
“Half-past nine! How fashionable we are! And when are you going to get us up to Antelope72, Mr. McVeigh?”
McVeigh studied the clock ponderingly as he felt in his breast pocket for his toothpick.
“Well,” he said, “if we leave here at ten and make good time the hull73 way—it’s up hill pretty much without a break—I’ll get you there about midnight.”
“And it will be much colder, won’t it?”
“Colder ’n’ colder. You’ll be goin’ higher with every step. Antelope’s on the slope of the Sierra, and you can’t expect to be warm up there in the end of January.”
“If you hadn’t wanted to come,” said her father, “you’d have been just about getting ready for Mrs. Ryan’s ball. Isn’t this about the magic hour when you begin to lay on the first layer of war-paint?”
The girl looked at the clock, nodding with a faint, reminiscent smile.
“Just about,” she said. “I’d have been probably looking at my dress laid out on the bed and saying to myself, ‘Now I wonder if it’s worth while getting into that thing and having all the bother of going to this ball.’ On the evenings when I go out, there’s always a stage when that happens.”
McVeigh, with his toothpick in full operation, looked at her, admiring and half comprehending, for the first time feeling himself an outsider. She caught his eye, read its meaning, and with the quick tact75 of a delicate nature, said:
“It’s Mrs. Cornelius Ryan in San Francisco. She has a ball to-night and I was going, but I came up here with papa instead. I don’t care for balls.”
“Sort of late to be primping up for a ball,” said McVeigh, restoring the toothpick to his pocket and pushing back his chair. “I’ll go and have a look at the horses. And, Governor, if you’ll be ready in fifteen minutes I’ll be round at the porch waiting.”
“I wonder if Dominick Ryan’ll be there—at the ball, I mean. His mother’s made up her mind not to recognize the woman he’s married, and to freeze her out, but I wonder if she’ll have the nerve not to ask her to-night.”
“I don’t see how she could do that,” said the girl. “This is one of the largest balls ever given in San Francisco. She can’t leave her son out, and she couldn’t ask him without his wife.”
“Couldn’t she?” said the old man, with a narrowing of his eyes and a knowing wag of his head. “You don’t know Delia Ryan. I do. I’ve known her forty years, ever since she was first married and did washing on the back porch of her shanty77 in Virginia City. She was a good deal of a woman then, a strong, brainy woman, and she’s the same to-day, but hard as nails. I’ll bet a hat she hasn’t asked Dominick’s wife to that ball.”
“What do you suppose he’ll do?” asked the daughter, somewhat aghast at this glimpse of the Ryan family skeleton.
“Don’t ask me such conundrums78. I’m glad I’m not in it, that’s all I know. When two women lock horns I’m ready to step quietly down and out. I never to my knowledge saw Dominick’s wife, but I’ve heard about her, and take it she’s a pretty hard kind of a proposition. They say she married the boy for money and position, and hasn’t got either. Delia, who has the money, hasn’t given them a cent since the marriage; made up her mind, people say, to force Mrs. Dominick out. She doesn’t seem to have done it, and I guess it’s been sort of aggravating79 to her. Just the same I’d like to know if she’s had the nerve not to send the woman an invitation to the ball. That would be pretty tough.”
“I’ve never seen either Dominick or his wife,” said the girl. “It seems odd when I know Mrs. Ryan and Cornelia so well. But he married the year I came back from Europe, and he’s never been anywhere since. I don’t believe he ever goes to his mother’s. There’s Mr. McVeigh in the doorway; we’d better be going.”
Once again in the carriage they were soon clear of the last straggling shanty, and speeding along the pale, ascending80 road. The silence that held the trio before their arrival at Rocky Bar again fell on them. Wrapped in overcoats and rugs, Bill Cannon appeared to slumber81, every now and then—as the wheels jolted82 over a piece of rough road-bed—shaken into growling83 wakefulness. McVeigh also rolled sleepily in his seat, occasionally leaning sidewise to spit over the wheel. Only the girl seemed alert and wide-awake, her face craning out from the shadowed back seat, her eyes strained to pierce the obscurity and see for the first time the landscape of foot-hill California, of which her father had so often told her.
Now it was all a dark, formless background of broken blacknesses, where the light, open spaces of fields alternated with blotches84 of woods and trees. At intervals85 they passed a lone14 cabin, solitary86 in its pale clearing, the red eye of a stove sending a gleam through an uncurtained pane87. Once they woke the echoes in the single street of a tiny town, sleeping behind its shuttered windows. Dogs barked, the shout of a belated reveler rose from a congeries of gaudily-bright doorways, and over all, imposing88 its mighty89 voice on the silence, came the roar of the stamp-mill on the hill above. It rose into the night like a fortress90, a black mass looming91 from the slant92 of vast dumps, lines of lit windows puncturing93 its sides. The thunder of its stamps was loud on the night, fierce and insistent94, like the roar of a monster round whose feet the little town cowered95.
McVeigh looked back over his shoulder, saw the bright eyes under the hat-brim, and said softly,
“The Silver Crescent stamp-mill. The last big mine we’ll see.”
It was the last town they passed; even the groups of buildings that marked embryo96 mines grew rare. The dimly-seen country became wilder, seemed to shake off the signs of man’s encroachment97 and to be sweeping98 up into mountain majesty99. The ascending road crept along the edges of ravines whence the sound of running water came in a clear clinking, dived down into black caverns100 of trees unlighted by the feeblest ray of star-shine, and then climbed in slow, laborious12 loops the bare bulwarks101 of the mountain. Had the girl been able to see plainly she would have noticed the change in the foliage102, the disappearance103 of the smaller shrubs104 and delicate interlacement of naked boughs105, and the mightier106 growth of the pines, soaring shafts107 devoid108 of branches to a great height. Boulders109 appeared among their roots, straight falls of rock edged the road like the walls of a fort.
McVeigh turned again, and again caught the bright eye.
“Seems like your paw must think a lot of what he’s heard about the new strike at Greenhide to come all this way,” he whispered.
“I guess he does,” came the response in the same key.
“It sort of stumps110 me to know why you came along with him,” he continued, his eyes on the horses, but leaning back to catch her answer.
“Mightn’t I just want to see the country?”
“Well, mebbe you might, but it don’t seem to me that you’re seein’ much of it to-night.”
He heard her smothered111 laugh, shot his glance back to see her face, and laughed himself, turning to his horses, and then turning back to her.
“You’re a lively girl, ain’t you?” he said.
“I don’t feel very lively just at this minute. I’m a cold girl, the coldest in California, I think.”
That made him laugh, too, but he turned back to his horses, saying with quick consideration:
“I guess you are. Come boys,” to the horses, “we’ve got to get a move on. We can’t let this young lady catch cold.”
The horses quickened their pace and there was no more talk. An hour later the first broken lights of Antelope sparkled along the road. The old mining camp, in a hollow between two buttresses112 of the Sierra, lay shuttered and dreaming under the starlight. A lamp-lit window, here and there, showed the course of its straggling main street, and where the hotel stood, welcoming rays winked113 between the boughs of leafless trees.
As the thud of the approaching hoof-beats woke the echoes a sudden violent barking of dogs broke out. Antelope was evidently not as sound asleep as it looked. At the hotel, especially, there was life and movement. The bar disgorged a throng of men, and Perley, the proprietor, had to push his way through them to welcome his midnight guests. Antelope, though remote, was in telegraphic communication with the world, and the operator at Rocky Bar had wired Perley to be ready for the distinguished arrivals,—news that in a half-hour was known throughout the town and had brought most of the unattached male population into the hotel.
Jake McVeigh was pulling the luggage from under the seats and Cannon was interchanging the first greetings with his landlord, when the girl, who had gone to the balcony railing and was looking out into the darkness, cried:
“Why, papa, snow!”
The information seemed to startle every one. The men crowded from the doorway and balcony into the street. McVeigh set down the bags, and, turning his weather-beaten face to the sky, uttered a smothered ejaculation of a profane114 character. Cannon came forward to where his daughter stood and looked into the blackness beyond. The girl had drawn115 off her glove and held her bare hand out, then stepping back to the light of the window, she showed it to her father. The white skin was sprinkled with snow crystals.
“Sure enough,” he said in a thoughtful voice. “Well, it won’t be the first time I’ve been snowed up at Antelope.”
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1
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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gulch
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| n.深谷，峡谷 | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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languished
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| 长期受苦( languish的过去式和过去分词 )； 受折磨； 变得（越来越）衰弱； 因渴望而变得憔悴或闷闷不乐 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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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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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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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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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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locust
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| n.蝗虫；洋槐，刺槐 | |
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sociability
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| n.好交际，社交性，善于交际 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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heyday
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| n.全盛时期，青春期 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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48
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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49
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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bonanza
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| n.富矿带，幸运，带来好运的事 | |
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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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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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56
apotheosis
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| n.神圣之理想；美化；颂扬 | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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58
abash
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| v.使窘迫，使局促不安 | |
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dexterously
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| adv.巧妙地，敏捷地 | |
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60
sleekly
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| 光滑地，光泽地 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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62
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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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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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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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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viands
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| n.食品，食物 | |
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dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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71
sputter
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| n.喷溅声；v.喷溅 | |
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72
antelope
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| n.羚羊；羚羊皮 | |
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hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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clumped
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| adj.[医]成群的v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的过去式和过去分词 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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conundrums
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| n.谜，猜不透的难题，难答的问题( conundrum的名词复数 ) | |
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aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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84
blotches
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| n.（皮肤上的）红斑，疹块( blotch的名词复数 )；大滴 [大片]（墨水或颜色的）污渍 | |
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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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86
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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88
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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90
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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91
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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puncturing
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| v.在（某物）上穿孔( puncture的现在分词 )；刺穿（某物）；削弱（某人的傲气、信心等）；泄某人的气 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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95
cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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96
embryo
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| n.胚胎，萌芽的事物 | |
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97
encroachment
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| n.侵入，蚕食 | |
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98
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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99
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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100
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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101
bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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102
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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103
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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104
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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105
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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106
mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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107
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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108
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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109
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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110
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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111
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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112
buttresses
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| n.扶壁，扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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113
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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114
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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115
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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