The poet laureate looked at the thick tract5 of woods ahead, then toward a nice, grassy6 knoll7 close by.
"We'll bring our game bags back full to overflowing," volunteered Nat. "Be sure to have a fire big enough to roast an ox."
With long strides, tall and slim John Hackett led the way, causing little Tom Clifton to run occasionally in order to keep pace.
"The best plan is to go as far as possible into the interior," urged Nat; "then we may get a shot at something worth while."
"Yes, what's the use of popping at little two ounce squirrels, when there are bears and wolves around?" said John Hackett, slyly glancing at Tom.
"To say nothing of deer, and fierce wildcats," chimed in Bob, smilingly.
"A little army like we are would scare off anything that toddles9 on four legs," declared Sam; "we had better not make such a racket."
"It doesn't make any difference yet," said Kirk Talbot, picking himself up, a creeping vine having sent him headlong.
After making their way through a dense10 thicket11, they reached the banks of a small but rapid stream. This was crossed by means of a few stones which rested in the swirling12 and bubbling water.
Just a few paces further along, John Hackett gave an illustration of how not to carry a gun. Swinging it carelessly over his shoulder, his hand grasping the barrel, he pushed ahead. A low-hanging branch in some manner caught the hammer, pulling it back and then releasing it. The unexpected explosion that followed made the boys fairly jump in alarm, while "Hatchet13" turned white.
"Great Cæsar!" cried Bob. "Shoot at a grasshopper14, Hackett?"
"Hacky knows he can't hit anything more than three feet away," grinned Nat.
"I thought a gun's trigger was meant to be pulled by hand," said Dick, with a wink15 at Tom Clifton.
"Guns and hunting knives! Don't get in front of him," laughed Kirk.
"You're too fresh, Tadpole," warned Hackett. "Mind, now!"
His long arm swept around in a circle, but Dick, with a grin, jumped nimbly aside.
In the hope of striking big game, they pushed on, sometimes being compelled to fairly force their way through dense masses of underbrush or interlacing branches. The chattering17 red squirrels and rabbits which occasionally darted18 for cover were unmolested.
Wild flowers grew on grassy banks, bright bits of moss19 gleamed in the sunlight, while cool and grateful shadows afforded relief from Old Sol's rays.
"I only wish we could see a wildcat or a wolf," said John Hackett, boastfully. "My little friend, would you run?" he asked, turning to Tom Clifton.
"Not with a mighty21 hunter like you around," responded the lad, and even "Hatchet" joined in the laugh that followed.
On the crest22 of a hill, they saw a stretch of water in the valley below them, its mirror-like surface reflecting the mottled sky. It was a lake, apparently23 about a half mile long.
"We ought to be stirring up some game pretty soon now," observed Bob Somers; "but I suppose we shall have to satisfy ourselves with the next size smaller than a bear."
They partly plunged24 into the woods again, descending25 by slow degrees until they were near the water. To their chagrin26, they found it surrounded by cliffs and huge boulders27 making progress so difficult that a long detour28 was necessary. After an hour's hard tramping, the party succeeded in rounding the nearest end of the sheet of water, where they were obliged to halt for rest and refreshment29.
The way now became less difficult. There were numerous open spaces and many bits of marsh-land which promised game of some kind, but their explorations were not rewarded.
Disappointed, but not discouraged, the journey was continued, until the base of a high elevation30 was directly before them. The slope was beautifully wooded, and they lost no time in beginning what proved to be a very hard climb. Small game was plentiful31, none, however, drawing forth32 a shot.
The boys were all thoroughly33 tired when they stood upon the summit of the ridge34 and gazed down upon another lake.
"Ducks!" cried John Hackett. "Just look at those spots on the water."
"We ought to get a dozen," whispered Dick Travers, excitedly.
"A dozen," said John Hackett, "a dozen? Just wait until I draw a bead37 upon them; it's going to be a bad day in the duck family. Come on! What are we standing38 here for?"
It required fully20 half an hour before the young hunters reached the coveted39 position. Then, screened by a perfect bower40 of small trees which reached clear to the water's edge, they began manœuvering to get in range.
On the alert to acquit41 himself with glory, John Hackett could no longer resist the temptation to fire, especially as to his excited imagination the birds were about to rise in a body. Suddenly bringing the gun to his shoulder, he pulled the trigger. A loud report sounded, instantly followed by a most deafening42 succession of shots that awakened43 echoes from far and wide. The members of the two clubs had observed Hackett's action just in time, and not intending to be deprived of their share in the sport, had instantly leveled their guns and fired.
A tremendous amount of white smoke began to slowly clear away, when it became apparent that the result of their shooting was both unexpected and extraordinary.
Two ducks were paddling leisurely44 toward the shore, as if they did not quite like what had happened, several others had turned upside down and were seen to be minus legs, while still another, with its head blown entirely45 off, bobbed serenely46 on the ripples47.
"Hulloa, what's this?" cried Kirk. "Did we bag the whole lot?"
A furious barking sounded from a short distance to the right, heavy footsteps were heard crashing through the underbrush, then a pack of nondescript dogs, making the very air ring with their discordant48 snarls49 and howls, burst into view, quickly surrounding the astonished hunters.
An instant later, a surprisingly big man, followed by a tall lank50 youth, dashed at full speed toward them. Both were armed with guns, and their demeanor51 indicated extreme displeasure.
"There he is, pop," shouted the younger. "I saw that one shoot."
Before John Hackett could comprehend what was happening, an enormous hand gripped him by the collar.
"I'll learn you to be shooting my tame ducks and decoys," roared a deep voice, and the amazed "Hatchet" found himself in a position unfortunately like that of a rat caught by a terrier. The big hand moved rapidly back and forth, John going with it.
His furious struggles were of no avail.
"Don't stand around like a lot of noodles, fellows," screamed the unfortunate youth, at the top of his voice, during a lull52 in the proceeding; "wait till I get loose!"
A vigorous shove sent him sliding beside his gun, which lay in the tall grass.
The whole affair had taken place in a few brief moments. With a savage53 exclamation54, accompanied by a threatening wave of his hand, the tall youth silenced the snarling55 and excited dogs.
"I'm a-going to have the whole gang of you took up," declared the big man, hoarsely56. "I can stand being stole from, which more than one has tried to do, but I don't keer to have my property blowed into little bits fer nothin'."
"Ha, ha," laughed Nat Wingate; "I wish—"
"Now don't begin any sass, fer I'm that mad I could—"
He was, in turn, interrupted. "Have you got 'em, Stevy?" screamed a shrill58 voice, and a stout59 woman of not unprepossessing mien60, panting and breathless, came hurrying up.
"Them's the scallywags," roared her husband.
"What, this crowd? Why they are nothing but boys, the poor dears."
"Maybe—but sich boys."
"He nearly dislocated that boy's shoulder," spoke61 up Nat Wingate, pointing to John as he edged slowly away.
"The idea—Steven Burr a-laying of violent hands on a boy—the idea, I say."
John Hackett, who was still lying on the grass for the purpose of effect, seized the opportunity to slowly and painfully arise.
"I may be a boy," he shouted, almost beside himself with anger, "but anybody who dares to touch me has got to fight. Come on, you great big overgrown farmer!"
Perfectly63 regardless of consequences in his passion, "Hatchet" danced around and around, swinging his fists with extraordinary rapidity.
"If it wasn't for your wife, you big coward, I'd fix you, and that in short order."
"We are sorry for what occurred," interposed Bob Somers, at this point, addressing Mr. Burr, "but you made a mistake in acting64 so hastily."
"Well, then, what d'ye mean by this piece of business?"
"Well, we took the birds for wild ducks, strange as it may appear," drawled Nat, who had witnessed his friend's discomfiture65 without much apparent evidence of pain. The speaker began to laugh. "Say," he exclaimed, "do you keep a duckery or a quackery66?"
"Ha, ha, ha," roared the big man, slapping his knees, while his wife and son joined in. "Ha, ha, ha, wild ducks! 'Pon my word, wild ducks! Did you ever hear the beat of it?"
"The mistake was a natural one," said Bob, calmly. "We had no idea that anybody lived around here."
"But I never heard of decoy ducks being shot at."
"Probably not," volunteered Nat, glibly67. "I tell you, Mr. Burr, the circumstances were unusual. Those two or three real quackers were so much like the wooden ones that you ought to have a 'don't shoot' sign put up."
"Think those decoys were pretty good, then?" inquired the slim youth.
"Bang up," said Nat, unable to repress a laugh at his own humor. "That's the reason we fired at them."
"I made 'em myself," continued the slim youth. "Pop says he never seen such good ones."
"Just so," added Mr. Burr, whose anger was greatly appeased68. "They will certainly draw the birds."
"It seems, then, that we have paid them an unintentional compliment," said Bob.
"I'm willing to view the incident in that light," said Mr. Burr. "I hope the young gentleman who come so near to fixing me ain't got no ill will."
"Don't 'young gentleman' me," growled John. "If my shoulder doesn't turn black and blue, it will be a wonder."
"I always said you was rash, Steven Burr," said his wife; "and this proves it. Just think how lucky it was for me to come along and save you."
The humor of this was highly appreciated by all except John Hackett.
They found on acquaintance, however, that Steven Burr was not a bad sort of man. He insisted on the boys visiting his shack69, as he termed it, and also gave them a great deal of useful information about the surrounding country. He and his son worked in a logging camp not far distant. The shack, which was made of logs and situated70 near the lake, proved to be a very interesting place, and even John Hackett forgot his ill humor before they took their departure.
The boys concluded to tramp along the shore of the lake, notwithstanding the fact that they encountered occasional bits of marsh-land and small brooks71. They laughed and joked about their ludicrous mistake, resolving to profit by the experience.
The scenery was sufficiently73 varied74 to make their progress interesting. Dragon-flies in great numbers hovered75 over the water or darted about. Off in the distance, several cranes could be seen, while an ever-watchful hawk76 soared against the white patches of cloud overhead.
A flock of sandpipers flew in range, and circled around. Bang—bang—bang. The sharp reports of three guns broke the stillness, and several birds were seen to fall.
Nat Wingate brought his weapon to his shoulder and fired, although the flock was now speeding rapidly away.
"It's broken my shoulder," he cried, dancing around wildly. "Wow—there must have been a ton of powder in that barrel."
"How did it happen?" inquired Bob, forced to smile, in spite of himself.
"I remember, now, it was loaded twice," said Nat, still rubbing his shoulder gingerly. "I put in a charge while we were roaring and grinning about the wooden ducks and then forgot about it. I guess I never did anything so mechanically in my life."
"That's a good one on Nat," he said. "It's a wonder the gun didn't explode."
"About as bad as shooting at grasshoppers," grinned Nat. "Christopher! What are those birds over there?"
"Sandpipers," said Dave.
"Some of 'em are goners," declared Hackett; "don't care what their name is."
"Wait until we get a little nearer," warned Bob. "Now!"
A succession of shots followed.
Four fat little sandpipers, or grass plover79, were picked up, and as they are delicious eating, the addition to their larder80 was welcome.
About half an hour later, the boys discovered that a flock of wood-ducks had alighted in a copse near the lake.
The eyes of the Ramblers and Nimrods fairly sparkled, as they began to work their way carefully toward them. Some distance ahead, a stretch of high grass happily served to conceal81 their movements. They crept stealthily forward, foot by foot, fearful each moment that the flock would take alarm.
A short interval82 of suspense83, and Bob cautiously raised his head above the waving fringe of grass.
"Ready!" he whispered. "Fire!"
Almost simultaneously84 eight reports echoed and reëchoed from the near-by hills.
The ducks instantly arose, flying swiftly in every direction.
John Hackett rushed forward, followed by the others, and they saw five birds outstretched upon the ground.
"Five of them!" cried Nat Wingate, exultingly85. "This is what I call real sport."
"I knew I could do it," remarked John Hackett, with a self-satisfied smile. "I'll bet it was my shot that plunked the head off one of those miserable86 chunks87 of wood."
The silence was unbroken for several moments.
"It's too bad we didn't bring anything along to cook with," observed Tom Clifton, at length. "A bit of duck would go well with our lunch."
For an answer, Bob Somers drew out his hunting-knife and severed88 the head from one of the largest birds, then proceeded to dress it with a proficiency89 which showed that the operation was not a new one to him.
"I guess we can manage somehow, Tom," he said, with a smile. "But, of course, it means a couple of hours' stay."
The others crowded around him.
"You shall see, presently."
Bob went to the water's edge, scraped together a pile of soft clay and began to cover the duck evenly with it. "You fellows hustle92 for some dry wood," he said.
"Let's go back to the woods," proposed Dick.
His suggestion was immediately acted upon. Dividing their spoils, they marched briskly, eagerly anticipating the coming feast.
When they arrived at a small open space in the midst of a dense pine forest, Bob Somers proceeded to dig a good-sized hole. The clay-covered duck was deposited therein, close to the surface, the rest of the boys having in the meantime started a huge fire.
Bob filled most of the hole with earth, leaving just enough space for the duck to be surrounded with hot ashes. This took considerably93 longer than they anticipated, but the task was at length completed, after which the fire was raked over it.
"No one can tell us much, when it comes to camping out," said "Hatchet" sententiously; "before long, we'll be able to give old Agnew a few good points."
While the meal was in course of preparation, the boys wandered around on little exploring expeditions, one of them being fortunate enough to discover a fresh, bubbling spring.
Considerably more than two hours passed before Bob judged that the duck was cooked. It was found that the clay had become hard baked. Bob carefully broke it away and with it came the feathers.
Sitting around in a circle, the boys heartily94 enjoyed their meal and told stories, while Bob and Nat amused their hearers by several recitations.
"Let's take a short tramp through the woods," proposed the latter, when they decided95 that it was time to break camp.
As no objections were offered, the young hunters at once set off.
"Who has the hatchet?" asked Bob.
"I have," replied Tom Clifton.
"Then we'll blaze a trail. It's mighty easy to get mixed up in a big wood like this."
"Somers, the woodsman—Bill Agnew's star pupil," laughed Nat.
"Nothing like being on the safe side," said Bob. "Here goes number one."
"Crack! Smack96! Hits it like a little man," grinned John Hackett. "Just look at the chips a-flying."
Bob continued to cut the notches98 at intervals99, then handed the hatchet to Nat. The latter certainly made noise enough in the execution of his task. Nearly always, he lagged back and came running after the other boys, with a broad grin on his face.
The afternoon passed quickly, and the sun was well over toward the west when Bob Somers, not wishing to alarm the poet laureate by a too prolonged absence, said:
"We had better go back, fellows."
"Not yet," protested Nat; "we have plenty of time."
"It's more than half-past four, and we have miles and miles to go—just think of the distance."
"Well, perhaps you may be right, Somers."
"Where is that last tree you spoiled, Nat?" asked Kirk, after they had started to retrace100 their steps.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Nat. "Oh, you lot of greenies. Do you suppose I kept up that foolish trick? I just banged away a bit. Now, if anybody can find a mark, he'll deserve a prize."
The Nimrods laughed loudly.
"My eye! That's a good one!" roared Hackett.
"I'll bet we don't get back to camp to-night, then," exclaimed Tom Clifton.
Bob smiled good-naturedly.
"Brigands know the woods too well for that, Tommy," he said.
"Every part of it looks alike to me," admitted Dick; "I'm fiercely mixed."
"Always seem to be," grinned Hackett.
Bob Somers, fortunately, had taken sufficient note of their route to enable him to say, with some confidence: "I think the right direction is about due west."
He waved his hand in a southerly direction.
Almost every one had a different idea, but the Ramblers agreed that Bob was apt to be right.
"Well, you'll see," said the Nimrod chief, with a grin. "We'll just have to pass the night away from camp."
An hour's walk did not solve the problem. The woods still extended on all sides, grim and sombre, relieved only by the slanting102 rays of the sun.
Now and then, they passed places which all agreed they had not seen before.
"I told you!" exclaimed Nat, at length. "Now we are lost completely."
"Yes, we are lost completely, little ones," echoed John Hackett, with a grin.
"Bears, wildcats and wolves—how like the babes in the woods," laughed Kirk Talbot.
But Bob, springing up, had already grasped a low-hanging limb. Climbing from one branch to another, he at length reached a position of vantage, which enabled him to see, far off, the glistening105 water of a lake. He realized instantly that it was the one they had come across early in the day.
"Whew!" he muttered. "We must have walked a good deal further than I thought. All right!" he called, cheerily, in answer to a hail from below. "We are on the right track."
A few moments later, he rejoined his companions. Dusk finally settled over the scene. Then progress became more slow. Fireflies flitted about, from a pond came the hoarse57 croaking106 of frogs, while all around, the insects kept up a continual noise.
"Poor old Dave will certainly be worried," observed Bob.
"Let's take a rest, and wait for the lazy thing to appear," suggested Nat. "Those vines have scratched me all up."
Accordingly the thoroughly tired boys came to a halt and sat down on a little mossy bank.
"That 'Oh ho' boy would be shaking in his shoes by this time, if he wasn't so lazy," declared Nat, with a laugh. "He'll have a grand chance to scribble108 a poem on the Terror of Darkness."
It seemed a very long time before the sky began to brighten with the rising moon. By its light they were again enabled to make good progress.
After skirting around the shore of the lake, they came across familiar landmarks109 and marched ahead in high spirits, notwithstanding their tired condition.
This part of the journey seemed much longer than they anticipated, but, at length, a glad shout came from Sam Randall. "We are all right, now, boys!" he exclaimed, gleefully. "There's the river."
Leading the way, Bob plunged through the last strip of woods. "Hello—hello, Dave!" he called, with all the force of his lungs.
"Hello!" echoed his companions, lustily.
No sound came from the direction of the camp.
Again the boys gave a vigorous shout. But when the last throbbing111 echoes died away, dreary112 silence still reigned113 in the solitude114.
"That's very strange," exclaimed Bob Somers, with a touch of alarm in his voice.
He broke into a run, the others following close at his heels. The outlines of the lean-to flashed into view, but the lone115 member of the Rambler Club was nowhere to be seen.
"What can it mean?" asked Bob Somers, in surprise.
Then a most astounding116 discovery was made. The boys raced at full speed to the river, where panting and almost breathless, they paused, to gaze excitedly up and down its banks. Both motor boats had disappeared.
A small object, revealed by the light of the moon, lay on the muddy bank. Bob Somers stooped, and picked up Dave Brandon's well-worn copy of Bryant's poems.
Torn with doubt and perplexity, they looked from one to another. At this moment, the sound of a shot, far off in the distance, was borne faintly to their ears.
"What was that?" cried John Hackett, excitedly. "Listen!"
They all stood in silence, straining their ears. Then, after an interval, another report came over the water.
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收听单词发音
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1
mooring
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| n.停泊处；系泊用具，系船具；下锚v.停泊，系泊（船只）(moor的现在分词) | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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4
ted
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| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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7
knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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8
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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toddles
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| v.（幼儿等）东倒西歪地走( toddle的第三人称单数 )；蹒跚行走；溜达；散步 | |
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10
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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14
grasshopper
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| n.蚱蜢，蝗虫，蚂蚱 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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16
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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17
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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18
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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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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23
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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24
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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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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detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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30
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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32
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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bead
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| n.念珠；(pl.)珠子项链；水珠 | |
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38
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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39
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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40
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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41
acquit
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| vt.宣判无罪；(oneself)使(自己)表现出 | |
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42
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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43
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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44
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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45
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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46
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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47
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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48
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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49
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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50
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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51
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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52
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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53
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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54
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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55
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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56
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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57
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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58
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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60
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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61
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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62
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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66
quackery
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| n.庸医的医术，骗子的行为 | |
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67
glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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69
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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70
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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71
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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72
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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73
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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76
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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78
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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79
plover
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| n.珩，珩科鸟，千鸟 | |
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larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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82
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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83
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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84
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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85
exultingly
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| 兴高采烈地，得意地 | |
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86
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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proficiency
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| n.精通，熟练，精练 | |
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90
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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91
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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92
hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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95
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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96
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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97
brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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98
notches
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| n.（边缘或表面上的）V型痕迹( notch的名词复数 )；刻痕；水平；等级 | |
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99
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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100
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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101
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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102
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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103
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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104
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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105
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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106
croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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107
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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108
scribble
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| v.潦草地书写，乱写，滥写；n.潦草的写法，潦草写成的东西，杂文 | |
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109
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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110
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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111
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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112
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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113
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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114
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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115
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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116
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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