A thin moon was drifting above the scattered1 clouds when Muckle John and Rob reached the head of a wild and desolate2 glen in Stratherrick, and here for the first time since their flight from Culloden they drew rein3 and alighted. So stiff and weary was Rob that his companion was compelled to lift him down, and lay him in the heather.
The horse, utterly4 done, stood with his head hanging forlornly, and the sweat dripping from his neck upon the heather. Few horses would have carried them both so gallantly5.
Muckle John had long since discarded his English wig6 and coat. He stood in his shirt and with his hair fluttering in the night wind regarding with sombre eyes the blinking lights of a house down the valley, a square white house two stories high. Twice during the brief halt a man had crept out of the encircling darkness and scrutinized7 them narrowly. There was no sound beyond the wind sighing amongst the corries, but each time Muckle John had seen the heather quiver before something noiseless and stealthy that disappeared as softly as it had come. Once from far up the hill he heard a long whistle like a curlew on the wing.
At last he turned his head and let his eyes rest on Rob, and then again upon the grey horse with its drooping8 head. With a faint shrug9 of his shoulders he shook the boy.
"Gortuleg House," he replied, "I know it well."
Muckle John of a sudden turned his head and raised his hand for silence.
From far away along the track they had come was a sharp click-clack like the rattle12 of a loose stone on a horse's hoof13.
"Ye hear, Rob," he whispered, "there'll be few abed to-night. Come away, boy, this is a daft-like place to be found in."
From up the hill came the mournful whistle once again. It was answered by another far down the glen.
"The place is hotching with Frasers," he muttered, lifting Rob upon the horse, "and where the Frasers are a man must feel his way, saving your presence, Rob."
"I'm no denying it—though maybe ye had safer speak for yersel', Rob, but to-day will end many a friendship, and I'm no trusting Lochiel himsel' until I'm clear of this business."
Nearer they drew to the lights of Gortuleg House, but the closer they came the more cautious grew Muckle John, feeling his way with immoderate care, and with a hand upon the horse's nostrils15 for fear of a whinny. To the rear of the house there stood a wall with a few stunted16 fruit-trees in an orchard17. In the same anxious silence Muckle John hitched18 the bridle19 to a branch and lifted Rob down.
"Bide20 here," he whispered, "until I come, and if any one speaks to you say that you're waiting upon Lord Lovat."
"Lord Lovat?"
"Who else?"
"But is he here?"
"Man Rob, I've no time to teach you elements of common sense. If ye see a wheen corbies driving across the sky what do ye ken?"
"That there's carrion," said Rob to humour his temper.
"You're doing finely, Rob;" he paused and leaning nearer added in a whisper, "I am no sure but that the hawk is nearer than ye think..." and with that he was gone, leaving Rob beneath the shadow of the broken masonry23.
Barely five minutes had passed before the thud of horses' flying feet came beating down the glen. The moon riding high in the sky glinted on steel and silver, and at the commotion24 the door of Gortuleg House opened and the figure of an old bent25 man was silhouetted26 in the doorway27, leaning upon a stick. He was a grotesque28 enough spectacle—very ponderous29 and unwieldy, large-faced and ruddy and with shifty, speeding eyes almost buried in a mass of flesh. He was dressed in a loose coat, rough baggy30 breeches and stockings, with large flat buckled31 shoes, and as he peered and craned his head he tapped in a fever of impatience32 upon the flagged stone at the doorway.
A single ray of light made a yellow bar upon the open space in front.
Nearer and nearer came the racket of galloping33 horses—the jingling34 of bits and scabbards—the hoarse35 shout of a man's voice, and into the lit space plunged36 a powerful roan horse all dirty grey with foam37 and spent mud. Upon its back there sat a young man rocking with fatigue38 and with his head uncovered and his coat opened to the night wind. The old man standing39 in the doorway shuffled40 forward a step and laid a hand upon his bridle-reins41.
For a long time there was no reply, and in the silence the candle in the old man's hand fluttered desperately43 and went out.
"I am the Prince," said the man upon the horse in a dull voice as though he were half dreaming, "I am the Prince and..." his voice trailed into silence.
Round him in a half-circle the companions of that wild flight were gathered—their faces looking very dim and white like the faces of ghosts. For an instant the old man seemed to shrink into himself. His great head drooped,—the hand that gripped the bridle fell with a low thud against his side. But only for an instant. There was within that disease-racked body an energy that defied the penalties of age.
"Dhia gleidh sinn," he cried harshly, "are you tongueless all of you? Come—come in—would you sit glooming there all night? Your Highness," he said, breaking off and looking up again, "this is a wae meeting and like to be our last...."
"You are Lord Lovat," said the Prince with more life in his voice.
"It is a name," the old man replied, with a sudden twisted grin, "that I would I could disown."
A few gillies had gathered about the horsemen, and when they had dismounted their tired beasts were led away to an outhouse, and the whole party followed Lord Lovat within.
Inside the room where they made their way a great fire was burning. A table stood in the centre, upon which was a bottle of claret and some glasses. He had waited news for hours back.
In the firelight Lord Lovat regarded his visitors with sour displeasure. Now that the news of Culloden had come, and the first biting terror over, he resumed his habitual45 demeanour of inscrutable cynicism. He congratulated the Prince on arriving so soon, and poured out his glass of wine—he asked the names of the various gentlemen with him and expressed polite ignorance when he was informed, only remarking that he had always admired Irishmen because they took so much interest in other people's affairs. And all the time he was cursing his utter folly46 for having supported the Jacobite cause and plotting, plotting, plotting in his inmost mind what was the safest course to take.
Only once did his self-possession desert him, and that was when the Prince said to Sir Thomas Sheridan that they must make for the Isles47.
"Make for the Isles," he cried, glaring at them like an aged48 wolf-hound, "what sort of talk is that? Will you desert us all and not make a stand in the hills? What is one defeat? You must make terms, sir, or you'll have more to answer for than ever your father had."
"It is no good," replied the Prince dejectedly.
"Oh, why," cried Lovat, trembling with fury and vexation, "did ye come and ruin us at all?"
At that they tried to soothe49 him, telling him that he had taken no part—that he was an old man—that he could hide for a season. To all of which Lovat shook his great head. He never deceived himself.
"More than that," went on the Irishman, Sheridan, pacing up and down before the open window, "all is not lost. The clans50 will assemble again, and French gold is even now on its way. Gold," he added, "will unite us again as quick as honour."
"French gold," he repeated, "and how can they land gold now?"
"They make for Lochnanuagh," replied Sheridan, "and...." but the Prince broke in:
"Come, gentlemen," he cried, "let us to horse. We must reach Invergarry before dawn. There is no sleep for us yet awhile..." and he raised his harassed52 eyes to the cold sky. "My lord," he said, a moment later, taking Lovat by the hand, "do not give way to despair—we are not beaten yet."
But the melancholy53 tone in which he sought to cheer the old man went like a chill to their hearts, and brought the old satirical grin to Lovat's mouth.
"Farewell," replied the old man with all the natural dignity that neither age nor dishonour54 could rob him, "I doubt we shall never meet again."
At that they all rose, and after shaking him by the hand passed down the stairs. He accompanied them to the door and stood with no further word while they mounted their beasts. The gillies letting the reins, fell back into the night leaving him alone. He took off his hat, but made no other sign.
Of a sudden in the cold night there rang a wild tumult55 of horses' hoofs56 and they were gone as they had come.
For long Lord Lovat stood in the doorway listening, with his eyes upon the black way they had taken, and then shivering violently he turned and stumbled upstairs.
Out in the darkness Muckle John crept from the shadows. He had heard all or nearly all. He looked all around him and then stared at the upper window of Gortuleg. He could see the vast shadow of Lovat seated by the table waiting his fate. For a few minutes he stood pondering the situation, then on tiptoe he crossed the track and opened the door. Closing it gently, he made his way up the narrow stairs. The door to the room where Lovat sat was open. He halted in the passage and looked in.
On a chair before the empty fire-grate sat the old man, his eyes fixed57 upon the floor, his legs crossed his fingers intertwined. His lips were moving ceaselessly, and once he frowned like a man frowns to himself who is uncertain just what course to take.
At last he rose and made his way across the room and to a strong box heavily clasped. This he unlocked and opened, extracting a heap of documents and letters and laying them upon the table. Then setting fire to the peats, he began to turn over the stuff, throwing some into the flames and putting some back again into the box.
"A braw night to you," said Muckle John, standing full in the doorway. The paper the old man held between his fingers fluttered gently upon the floor. Over his face there travelled a grey tinge58 as though he had grown of a sudden very old or ill. But he never moved nor did he say anything.
Entering the room, Muckle John closed the door, and walking towards the fire set about warming his hands in the coolest manner imaginable. Then taking off his great coat he laid it over the window.
The old man answered nothing. He seemed struck dumb with fear, or rage, or some kindred emotion.
"I take it from your little preparations that you know how things stand."
"I was looking through some old rubbish," said Lovat more at his ease.
"I know what sort of rubbish," replied Muckle John, extracting a letter before the old man could check his hand, "how would this sound, eh? It's no what we might call cordial to Geordie."
"I am an old sick man," said Lovat, with a suspicion of whining60, "scarce able to read or write. My memory is near gone and my faculties61 all amiss. What do you want with me? It is late and I have much to do."
"Perhaps your lordship will remember Castleleathers, who was once your good friend."
"What of him?"
"He did me a service abroad. Yesterday I was with him in Inverness. He told me much about you, my lord—and your promises."
"It is easy to listen to one side of a matter," he replied tartly63. "Castleleathers is a fool—I have never suffered fools gladly."
"Even you make mistakes sometimes, my lord."
The fear of capture took Lovat by the throat.
"Aye," he gulped64, "but this is no time to quarrel. Let bygones be bygones. I did ye a wrong long since, I'll allow, but surely ye can forgive and forget?"
"No," said Muckle John, "I never forgive nor forget."
"Then what is it you want—is it my life—there is little enough of that to take—or is it money—I have a few guineas?"
"It is none of these. If I wanted your life I would set the red coats on you. But they will need no guidance of mine. I want to know where the gold is to be landed that is coming from France."
"Oho," cried Lovat, "so that's how the wind blows, is it?" and he remained deep in thought for a while.
"Will you do something if I tell ye?" he asked cunningly.
"Maybe and maybe no."
Lovat moistened his dry lips.
"There are sore times coming," he said in his husky voice, and speaking in Gaelic for the first time, "and I am not what I was. There may be folk who will swear black is black instead of white—you will be taking my meaning? Were I to fall into the hands of the Government it might go badly with me. But there are ways...."
"And they?"
"I have not taken arms, though my son has. They would never harm him being a mere65 boy, but they might forgive his old father should he hand him over. It must happen one way or the other. But I cannot lay hands on him. What would you say to that? It is for the boy's good—"
"Impossible—you are pleased to insult me."
"Then what will you do should I tell you?"
"I will not dispatch these letters to the Duke of Newcastle."
A sickly grey colour crept into Lovat's cheeks.
"There was an occasion," said Muckle John, coolly, "when you nearly did the same to me."
"Long ago—long ago."
"In the year 1728 to be exact."
"How did ye know there was treasure?" he said, to make time.
"You forgot to shut your window."
"You played eavesdropper68?"
Muckle John sighed.
"The hour is late," he replied, meaningly.
"I am in your hands," said Lovat.
"Then tell me where the gold is to be landed. I could not catch the name of the place."
The old man leant forward suddenly.
"It is on the coast of Knoidart," he replied.
"You swear it?"
"Such were the words that Sheridan said."
"It sounded unlike Knoidart, but I could not hear."
"It was Knoidart."
For long Muckle John tried to read truth or lies in his face. But the expression of Lovat was guileless.
"If you have lied," said Muckle John at last, "I will hound you down."
Lovat gently drew the palms of his hands together.
"Why should I lie?" he said.
"Then good-bye, my lord, and look to your papers, for to-morrow will bring dragoons and..."
"Enough," broke in Lovat, "I am not afraid."
He sat perfectly69 still until Muckle John had gone down the stairs, then with a grim smile he set about sorting his papers.
Out in the night Muckle John stood deep in thought, then climbing softly over the wall he reached Rob and the great grey horse.
"I must leave you for a while, Rob," he whispered, "but I'll return, never fear, and keep watch for the bit tune—ye mind the way it goes—" and he whistled a bar. "Keep on the top of the hills, laddie, but mind the skyline, and never stir by day. It's advice easily given but a weary business to follow," and putting his foot in the stirrup he mounted and walked softly down the glen.
A great loneliness stole over Rob, left as he was in a country he hardly knew, and with a throbbing71 wound, and a keen hunger on him. Stealing round to the house he made his way to the hall, and hearing no sound of human souls anywhere he entered the kitchen and happened upon a plate of cold porridge. This he devoured72, and re-entering the hall he lay down before the fire and fell asleep.
Upstairs Lovat crouched73 before the fire. Hour after hour passed and still he spelt out with his tired weak eyes the contents of one sheet upon another. Once he nodded and a letter passed unread—a letter that was to weigh in the scales against him later. For an hour he slept altogether. But as the dawn was creeping back over that stricken country, the day following Culloden found him still bending with a haggard countenance74 over his correspondence, every letter of which might bring him to the scaffold.
At dawn on the same morning that saw the Prince speeding westward75 and Muckle John upon the road, before the moon had sunk behind the hills, Rob Fraser stole out of the hall and made his way into the open air. Already rumours76 were drifting through the village that the English were on the march towards Gortuleg, and all who were suspected of having taken arms for the Prince would be summarily dealt with, and their houses given to the flames.
Round the premises77 of Gortuleg dwelt the same melancholy silence as on the night before. Every living thing seemed to have fled. The very kennels78 were empty. Only one shaggy Highland79 pony80 whinnied in the desolate stable, hungry and alone.
As Rob peered up at the windows wondering what had befallen, he caught for an instant a pair of eyes fixed upon him, and heard a noise of shuffling82 feet. Coming from that deserted83 place it sounded so dreary84 that he was near taking to his heels. Before he could move, however, the huge bulk of Lord Lovat loomed85 into the shadowy doorway. Leaning heavily upon his stick with hunched86 shoulders, and a face unshaved and the grey colour of chalk, he stood with muttering lips. Then shuffling forward a step he stared blankly at Rob like a man whose thoughts are far away on another errand.
"What o'clock is it?" he rasped at last; and pulling off his wig, patted it idly, and rammed87 it again upon his head.
"Six o'clock!" He frowned suddenly, looking all around him with pursed lips. "Where are my servants?" he cried. And when no answer came he quoted a scrap89 of Latin, and chuckled as though the context tickled90 him.
"Well, well," said he at last, "and who are you, boy?"
"Rob Fraser, sir."
"Thank ye," he snarled91, speaking in broad Scots; "but it's a name as common as muir-fowl hereabouts. Why are ye no with the Master, that unscrupulous rebel, my son? Mind how I spoke92 of him, Rob, should they ever dare to take me."
"I heard ye, my lord."
"Aye, and speak up for an old man, Rob, whose havers may be misinterpreted, ye ken. What is it ye will answer, Rob?"
"That you called your son, the Master, an unscrupulous rebel," he replied.
Lovat nodded his great head approvingly.
"Bonny it sounds. That'll make the House o' Peers sit up. We'll carry it with silver hairs and injured innocence93, Rob—an auld94 man, my lords, near doited with years and sorrow."
He paused, and the look of fear twisted his features once again.
"It would look better to bide here," said he, in a mutter to himself, and so, with a pinch of snuff, he turned towards the door again. But a moment later he was back, and this time his limbs fairly shook with fear.
"No, no!" he gasped, one gout swollen95 hand upon his breast. "I canna wait here like an auld maimed dog. There are places I can bide until arrangements can be made. Quick, boy—saddle a horse and let us go."
"The horses are all gone, my lord," said Rob.
"All gone? So that is how they treat me. Then we must walk until we find one. Surely my people will help their chief."
"There is a pony, your lordship," cried Rob, and going to the stable he led out the powerful little beast.
Shuffling back to the house, Lovat crept up the creaking stairway and returned some minutes later with his strong box.
"Fasten it behind the saddle, Rob," he said, "or better still can I trust ye to carry it?"
He stood for a moment glooming at the ground and then begun to hunt amongst his pockets for a piece of paper which, when he had found it, he read most carefully and tittered in a strange falsetto manner to himself.
Then taking a silver whistle from his waistcoat he blew it three times and took to breathing upon his frozen fingers.
From the heather a hundred yards up the glen two men had risen at the first note, and came running towards them—long-haired, ragged97 gillies, Fraser by their tartan. They stood a little way from Lovat, watching him like dogs ready for the trail. The frost of their night watch stood upon their bonnets98 and their beards were stiff and glistening99. Waving Rob aside Lovat began to speak to them in a low tone, but before he had said more than a dozen words his voice rose to a scream through the influence of some private passion, and he menaced them in Gaelic so that they quailed100 before his clenched101 fist. But as suddenly his voice dropped and he caressed102 them, patting their cheeks and then dismissing them, stood panting beside Rob—all the fire gone—once more just an old sick man.
Very slowly he clambered upon the pony, and so they started and began to pass the cluster of huts near Gortuleg. The frightened people trooped out of their doors to see their chief go by, and a dozen Frasers armed with muskets103 and swords gathered about him and trudged104 in silence towards the west.
At the corner of the brae Lovat turned and looked back on Gortuleg. Beneath his bullying105, tyrannical, shifty character there was a kind of bedrock of that highly coloured sentiment that is akin44 to melodrama106. He played to the gallery with infinite zest107 and genuine enjoyment108. It was a nice pose to combat the diminishing power of the chieftainship—where force was a dangerous weapon, sentiment was often a two-edged sword.
"Farewell," he said, in his deep voice and with honest tears in his eyes, "for maybe I shall never see you again."
It did not matter that the house was not his, nor an imposing109 habitation at the best of times. All that mattered was that he was at the turn of the brae, going downward—an exiled chief. Fully96 conscious that the setting was saga-like the clansmen set up a piteous lamentation110, and bowing his great head Lovat motioned them on, and the journey continued. And in this fashion after many weary hours they reached Loch Muilzie in Glenstrathfarar and for the time being considered themselves in safety.
Far away, dimly discernible in that wilderness111 of heather, two men were running like wolves on the trail—two men with dirks by their sides, and death in their hearts—running tirelessly. On the outskirts112 of the Fraser country they passed another man who was watching the pass and without a word he joined them—three men running in single file, bending double in open places—heading for Knoidart.
Long after, when the sun was falling, Muckle John pulled in his horse for the third time within an hour and listened intently. From the drenched113 hillside a curlew was crying amongst the shadows, and from up the hill came the clamour of a muir-fowl.
And then with troubled eyes he continued his way, taking cover where he could, seeking a place of refuge.
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1
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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baggy
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| adj.膨胀如袋的，宽松下垂的 | |
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buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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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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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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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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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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42
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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43
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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44
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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45
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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46
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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47
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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48
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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49
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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50
clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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51
erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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53
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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54
dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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55
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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56
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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57
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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58
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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59
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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60
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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61
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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62
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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63
tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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64
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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65
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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66
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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67
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
eavesdropper
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| 偷听者 | |
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69
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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70
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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72
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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73
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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75
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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76
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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77
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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78
kennels
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| n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处，养狗场；狗窝( kennel的名词复数 )；养狗场 | |
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79
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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80
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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81
drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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82
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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83
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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84
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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85
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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86
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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87
rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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88
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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89
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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90
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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91
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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92
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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93
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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94
auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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95
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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96
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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97
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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98
bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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99
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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100
quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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104
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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105
bullying
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| v.恐吓，威逼( bully的现在分词 )；豪；跋扈 | |
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106
melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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107
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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108
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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109
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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110
lamentation
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| n.悲叹，哀悼 | |
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111
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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112
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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113
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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114
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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