Over the fathomless1 grey seas that tossed between, dissevering the ancient and gigantic continent from the tiny motherland, unsettling rumours2 ran. After close on forty years’ fat peace, England had armed for hostilities3 again, her fleet set sail for a foreign sea. Such was the news the sturdy clipper-ships brought out, in tantalising fragments; and those who, like Richard Mahony, were mere4 birds-of-passage in the colony, and had friends and relatives going to the front, caught hungrily at every detail. But to the majority of the colonists5 what England had done, or left undone6, in preparation for war, was of small account. To them the vital question was: will the wily Russian Bear take its revenge by sending men-of-war to annihilate7 us and plunder8 the gold in our banks — us, months removed from English aid? And the opinion was openly expressed that in casting off her allegiance to Great Britain, and becoming a neutral state, lay young Australia’s best hope of safety.
But, even while they made it, the proposers of this scheme were knee-deep in petty, local affairs again. All Europe was depressed9 under the cloud of war; but they went on belabouring hackneyed themes — the unlocking of the lands, iniquitous10 licence-fees, official corruption11. Mahony could not stand it. His heart was in England, went up and down with England’s hopes and fears. He smarted under the tales told of the inefficiency13 of the British troops and the paucity14 of their numbers; under the painful disclosures made by journalists, injudiciously allowed to travel to the seat of war; he questioned, like many another of his class in the old country, the wisdom of the Duke of Newcastle’s orders to lay siege to the port of Sebastopol. And of an evening, when the store was closed, he sat over stale English newspapers and a map of the Crimea, and meticulously15 followed the movements of the Allies.
But in this retirement16 he was rudely disturbed, by feeling himself touched on a vulnerable spot — that of his pocket. Before the end of the year trade had come to a standstill, and the very town he lived in was under martial17 law.
On both Ballarat and the Bendigo the agitation18 for the repeal19 of the licence-tax had grown more and more vehement21; and spring’s arrival found the digging-community worked up to a white heat. The new Governor’s tour of inspection22, on which great hopes had been built, served only to aggravate23 the trouble. Misled by the golden treasures with which the diggers, anxious as children to please, dazzled his eyes, the Governor decided24 that the tax was not an outrageous25 one; and ordered licence-raids to be undertaken twice as often as before. This defeat of the diggers’ hopes, together with the murder of a comrade and the acquittal of the murderer by a corrupt12 magistrate26, goaded27 even the least sensitive spirits to rebellion: the guilty man’s house was fired, the police were stoned, and then, for a month or more, deputations and petitions ran to and fro between Ballarat and Melbourne. In vain: the demands of the voteless diggers went unheard. The consequence was that one day at the beginning of summer all the troops that could be spared from the capital, along with several pieces of artillery28, were raising the dust on the road to Ballarat.
On the last afternoon in November work was suspended throughout the diggings, and the more cautious among the shopkeepers began to think of closing their doors. In front of the “Diggers’ Emporium,” where the earth was baked as hard as a burnt crust, a little knot of people stood shading their eyes from the sun. Opposite, on Bakery Hill, a monster meeting had been held and the “Southern Cross” hoisted29 — a blue bunting that bore the silver stars of the constellation30 after which it was named. Having sworn allegiance to it with outstretched hands, the rebels were lining31 up to march off to drill.
Mahony watched the thin procession through narrowed lids. In theory he condemned32 equally the blind obstinacy33 of the authorities, who went on tightening34 the screw, and the foolhardiness of the men. But — well, he could not get his eye to shirk one of the screaming banners and placards: “Down with Despotism!” “Who so base as be a Slave!” by means of which the diggers sought to inflame35 popular indignation. “If only honest rebels could get on without melodramatic exaggeration! As it is, those good fellows yonder are rendering36 a just cause ridiculous.”
Polly tightened37 her clasp of his arm. She had known no peace since the evening before, when a rough-looking man had come into the store and, with revolver at full cock, had commanded Hempel to hand over all the arms and ammunition38 it contained. Hempel, much to Richard’s wrath39, had meekly40 complied; but it might have been Richard himself; he would for certain have refused; and then. . . . Polly had hardly slept for thinking of it. She now listened in deferential41 silence to the men’s talk; but when old Ocock — he never had a good word to say for the riotous42 diggers — took his pipe out of his mouth to remark: “A pack o’ Tipperary boys spoilin’ for a fight — that’s what I say. An’ yet, blow me if I wouldn’t ‘a bin43 glad if one o’ my two ‘ad ‘ad spunk44 enough to join ’em,”— at this Polly could not refrain from saying pitifully: “Oh, Mr. Ocock, do you really MEAN that?” For both Purdy and brother Ned were in the rebel band, and Polly’s heart was heavy because of them.
“Can’t you see my brother anywhere?” she asked Hempel, who held an old spyglass to his eyes.
“No, ma’am, sorry to say I can’t,” replied Hempel. He would willingly have conjured46 up a dozen brothers to comfort Polly; but he could not swerve47 from the truth, even for her.
“Give me the glass,” said Mahony, and swept the line.—“No, no sign of either of them. Perhaps they thought better of it after all.— Listen! now they’re singing — can you hear them? The MARSEILLAISE as I’m alive. — Poor fools! Many of them are armed with nothing more deadly than picks and shovels48.”
“And pikes,” corrected Hempel. “Several carry pikes, sir.”
“Ay, that’s so, they’ve bin ‘ammerin’ out bits of old iron all the mornin’,” agreed Ocock. “It’s said they ‘aven’t a quarter of a firearm apiece. And the drillin’! Lord love yer! ‘Alf of ’em don’t know their right ‘and from their left. The troops ‘ull make mincemeat of ’em, if they come to close quarters.”
“Oh, I hope not!” said Polly. “Oh, I do hope they won’t get hurt.”
Patting her hand, Mahony advised his wife to go indoors and resume her household tasks. And since his lightest wish was a command, little Polly docilely49 withdrew her arm and returned to her dishwashing. But though she rubbed and scoured50 with her usual precision, her heart was not in her work. Both on this day and the next she seemed to exist solely51 in her two ears. The one strained to catch any scrap52 of news about “poor Ned”; the other listened, with an even sharper anxiety, to what went on in the store. Several further attempts were made to get arms and provisions from Richard; and each time an angry scene ensued. Close up beside the thin partition, her hands locked under her cooking-apron53, Polly sat and trembled for her husband. He had already got himself talked about by refusing to back a Reform League; and now she heard him openly declare to some one that he disapproved54 of the terms of this League, from A to Z. Oh dear! If only he wouldn’t. But she was careful not to add to his worries by speaking of her fears. As it was, he came to tea with a moody55 face.
The behaviour of the foraging56 parties growing more and more threatening, Mahony thought it prudent57 to follow the general example and put up his shutters58. Wildly conflicting rumours were in the air. One report said a contingent59 of Creswick dare-devils had arrived to join forces with the insurgents60; another that the Creswickers, disgusted at finding neither firearms nor quarters provided for them, had straightway turned and marched the twelve miles home again. For a time it was asserted that Lalor, the Irish leader, had been bought over by the government; then, just as definitely, that his influence alone held the rebel faction61 together. Towards evening Long Jim was dispatched to find out how matters really stood. He brought back word that the diggers had entrenched62 themselves on a piece of rising ground near the Eureka lead, behind a flimsy barricade63 of logs, slabs64, ropes and overturned carts. The Camp, for its part, was screened by a breastwork of firewood, trusses of hay and bags of corn; while the mounted police stood or lay fully45 armed by their horses, which were saddled ready for action at a moment’s notice.
Neither Ned nor Purdy put in an appearance, and the night passed without news of them. Just before dawn, however, Mahony was wakened by a tapping at the window. Thrusting out his head he recognised young Tommy Ocock, who had been sent by his father to tell “doctor” that the soldiers were astir. Lights could be seen moving about the Camp, a horse had neighed — father thought spies might have given them the hint that at least half the diggers from the Stockade66 had come down to Main Street last night, and got drunk, and never gone back. With a concerned glance at Polly Mahony struggled into his clothes. He must make another effort to reach the boys — especially Ned, for Polly’s sake. When Ned had first announced his intention of siding with the insurgents, he had merely shrugged67 his shoulders, believing that the young vapourer would soon have had enough of it. Now he felt responsible to his wife for Ned’s safety: Ned, whose chief reason for turning rebel, he suspected, was that a facetious68 trooper had once dubbed69 him “Eytalian organ-grinder,” and asked him where he kept his monkey.
But Mahony’s designs of a friendly interference came too late. The troops had got away, creeping stealthily through the morning dusk; and he was still panting up Specimen70 Hill when he heard the crack of a rifle. Confused shouts and cries followed. Then a bugle71 blared, and the next instant the rattle72 and bang of musketry split the air.
Together with a knot of others, who like himself had run forth73 half dressed, Mahony stopped and waited, in extreme anxiety; and, while he stood, the stars went out, one by one, as though a finger-tip touched them. The diggers’ response to the volley of the attacking party was easily distinguished74: it was a dropping fire, and sounded like a thin hail-shower after a peal20 of thunder. Within half an hour all was over: the barricade had fallen, to cheers and laughter from the military; the rebel flag was torn down; huts and tents inside the enclosure were going up in flames.
Towards six o’clock, just as the December sun, huge and fiery75, thrust the edge of its globe above the horizon, a number of onlookers76 ran up the slope to all that was left of the ill-fated stockade. On the dust, bloodstains, now set hard as scabs, traced the route by which a wretched procession of prisoners had been marched to the Camp gaol77. Behind the demolished78 barrier huts smouldered as heaps of blackened embers; and the ground was strewn with stark79 forms, which lay about — some twenty or thirty of them — in grotesque80 attitudes. Some sprawled81 with outstretched arms, their sightless eyes seeming to fix the pale azure82 of the sky; others were hunched83 and huddled84 in a last convulsion. And in the course of his fruitless search for friend and brother, an old instinct reasserted itself in Mahony: kneeling down he began swiftly and dexterously85 to examine the prostrate86 bodies. Two or three still heaved, the blood gurgling from throat and breast like water from the neck of a bottle. Here, one had a mouth plugged with shot, and a beard as stiff as though it were made of rope. Another that he turned over was a German he had once heard speak at a diggers’ meeting — a windy braggart87 of a man, with a quaint88 impediment in his speech. Well, poor soul! he would never mouth invectives or tickle89 the ribs90 of an audience again. His body was a very colander91 of wounds. Some had not bled either. It looked as though the soldiers had viciously gone on prodding92 and stabbing the fallen.
Stripping a corpse93 of its shirt, he tore off a piece of stuff to make a bandage for a shattered leg. While he was binding94 the limb to a board, young Tom ran up to say that the military, returning with carts, were arresting every one they met in the vicinity. With others who had been covering up and carrying away their friends, Mahony hastened down the back of the hill towards the bush. Here was plain evidence of a stampede. More bloodstains pointed95 the track, and a number of odd and clumsy weapons had been dropped or thrown away by the diggers in their flight.
He went home with the relatively96 good tidings that neither Ned nor Purdy was to be found. Polly was up and dressed. She had also lighted the fire and set water on to boil, “just in case.” “Was there ever such a sensible little woman?” said her husband with a kiss.
The day dragged by, flat and stale after the excitement of the morning. No one ventured far from cover; for the military remained under arms, and detachments of mounted troopers patrolled the streets. At the Camp the hundred odd prisoners were being sorted out, and the maimed and wounded doctored in the rude little temporary hospital. Down in Main Street the noise of hammering went on hour after hour. The dead could not be kept, in the summer heat, must be got underground before dark.
Mahony had just secured his premises97 for the night, when there came a rapping at the back door. In the yard stood a stranger who, when the dog Pompey had been chidden and soothed98, made mysterious signs to Mahony and murmured a well-known name. Admitted to the sitting-room99 he fished a scrap of dirty paper from his boot. Mahony put the candle on the table and straightened out the missive. Sure enough, it was in Purdy’s hand — though sadly scrawled100.
HAVE BEEN HIT IN THE PIN. COME IF POSSIBLE AND BRING YOUR TOOLS. THE BEARER IS SQUARE.
Polly could hear the two of them talking in low, urgent tones. But her relief that the visitor brought no bad news of her brother was dashed when she learned that Richard had to ride out into the bush, to visit a sick man. However she buttoned her bodice, and with her hair hanging down her back went into the sitting-room to help her husband; for he was turning the place upside down. He had a pair of probe-scissors somewhere, he felt sure, if he could only lay hands on them. And while he ransacked101 drawers and cupboards for one or other of the few poor instruments left him, his thoughts went back, inopportunely enough, to the time when he had been surgeon’s dresser in the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. O TEMPORA, O MORES102! He wondered what old Syme, that prince of surgeons, would say, could he see his whilom student raking out a probe from among the ladles and kitchen spoons, a roll of lint103 from behind the saucepans.
Bag in hand, he followed his guide to where the latter had left a horse in safe-keeping; and having lengthened104 the stirrups and received instructions about the road, he set off for the hut in the ranges which Purdy had contrived105 to reach. He had an awkward cross-country ride of some four miles before him; but this did not trouble him. The chance- touched spring had opened the gates to a flood of memories; and, as he jogged along, he re-lived in thought the happy days spent as a student under the shadow of Arthur’s Seat, round the College, the Infirmary and old Surgeons’ Square. Once more he sat in the theatre, the breathless spectator of famous surgical106 operations; or as house-surgeon to the Lying-in Hospital himself assisted in daring attempts to lessen107 suffering and save life. It was, of course, too late now to bemoan108 the fact that he had broken with his profession. Yet only that very day envy had beset109 him. The rest of the fraternity had run to and from the tents where the wounded were housed, while he, behung with his shopman’s apron, pottered about among barrels and crates110. No one thought of enlisting111 his services; another, not he, would set (or bungle) the fracture he had temporarily splinted.
The hut — it had four slab65 walls and an earthen floor — was in darkness on his arrival, for Purdy had not dared to make a light. He lay tossing restlessly on a dirty old straw palliasse, and was in great pain; but greeted his friend with a dash of the old brio.
Hanging his coat over the chinks in the door, and turning back his sleeves, Mahony took up the lantern and stooped to examine the injured leg. A bullet had struck the right ankle, causing an ugly wound. He washed it out, dressed and bandaged it. He also bathed the patient’s sweat-soaked head and shoulders; then sat down to await the owner of the hut’s return.
As soon as the latter appeared he took his leave, promising112 to ride out again the night after next. In spite of the circumstances under which they met, he and Purdy parted with a slight coolness. Mahony had loudly voiced his surprise at the nature of the wound caused by the bullet: it was incredible that any of the military could have borne a weapon of this calibre. Pressed, Purdy admitted that his hurt was a piece of gross ill-luck: he had been accidentally shot by a clumsy fool of a digger, from an ancient holster-pistol.
To Mahony this seemed to cap the climax113; and he did not mask his sentiments. The pitiful little forcible-feeble rebellion, all along but a futile114 attempt to cast straws against the wind, was now completely over and done with, and would never be heard of again. Or such at least, he added, was the earnest hope of the law-abiding community. This irritated Purdy, who was spumy with the self-importance of one who has stood in the thick of the fray115. He answered hotly, and ended by rapping out with a contemptuous click of the tongue: “Upon my word, Dick, you look at the whole thing like the tradesman you are!”
These words rankled116 in Mahony all the way home.— Trust Purdy for not, in anger, being able to resist giving him a flick117 on the raw. It made him feel thankful he was no longer so dependent on this friendship as of old. Since then he had tasted better things. Now, a woman’s heart beat in sympathetic understanding; there met his, two lips which had never said an unkind word. He pushed on with a new zest118, reaching home about dawn. And over his young wife’s joy at his safe return, he forgot the shifting moods of his night-journey.
It had, however, this result. Next day Polly found him with his head in one of the great old shabby black books which, to her mind, spoilt the neat appearance of the bookshelves. He stood to read, the volume lying open before him on the top of the cold stove, and was so deeply engrossed119 that the store-bell rang twice without his hearing it. When, reminded that Hempel was absent, he whipped out to answer it, he carried the volume with him.
收听单词发音 |
1
fathomless
|
|
| a.深不可测的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
rumours
|
|
| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
hostilities
|
|
| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
colonists
|
|
| n.殖民地开拓者，移民，殖民地居民( colonist的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
undone
|
|
| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
annihilate
|
|
| v.使无效；毁灭；取消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
plunder
|
|
| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
iniquitous
|
|
| adj.不公正的；邪恶的；高得出奇的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
corruption
|
|
| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
corrupt
|
|
| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
inefficiency
|
|
| n.无效率，无能；无效率事例 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
paucity
|
|
| n.小量，缺乏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
meticulously
|
|
| adv.过细地，异常细致地；无微不至；精心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
retirement
|
|
| n.退休，退职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
martial
|
|
| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
repeal
|
|
| n.废止，撤消；v.废止，撤消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
peal
|
|
| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
vehement
|
|
| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
aggravate
|
|
| vt.加重(剧)，使恶化；激怒，使恼火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
outrageous
|
|
| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
magistrate
|
|
| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
goaded
|
|
| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
artillery
|
|
| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
hoisted
|
|
| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
constellation
|
|
| n.星座n.灿烂的一群 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
lining
|
|
| n.衬里，衬料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
obstinacy
|
|
| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
tightening
|
|
| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
inflame
|
|
| v.使燃烧；使极度激动；使发炎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
rendering
|
|
| n.表现，描写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
tightened
|
|
| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
ammunition
|
|
| n.军火，弹药 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
meekly
|
|
| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
deferential
|
|
| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
riotous
|
|
| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
bin
|
|
| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
spunk
|
|
| n.勇气，胆量 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
conjured
|
|
| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
swerve
|
|
| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
shovels
|
|
| n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
docilely
|
|
| adv.容易教地，易驾驶地，驯服地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
scoured
|
|
| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
scrap
|
|
| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
disapproved
|
|
| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
moody
|
|
| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
foraging
|
|
| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的现在分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
prudent
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
contingent
|
|
| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
insurgents
|
|
| n.起义，暴动，造反( insurgent的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
faction
|
|
| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
entrenched
|
|
| adj.确立的，不容易改的(风俗习惯) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
barricade
|
|
| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
slabs
|
|
| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
slab
|
|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
stockade
|
|
| n.栅栏，围栏；v.用栅栏防护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
facetious
|
|
| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
dubbed
|
|
| v.给…起绰号( dub的过去式和过去分词 )；把…称为；配音；复制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
specimen
|
|
| n.样本，标本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
bugle
|
|
| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
rattle
|
|
| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
fiery
|
|
| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
onlookers
|
|
| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
gaol
|
|
| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
demolished
|
|
| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
stark
|
|
| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
grotesque
|
|
| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
sprawled
|
|
| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
azure
|
|
| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
hunched
|
|
| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
huddled
|
|
| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
dexterously
|
|
| adv.巧妙地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
prostrate
|
|
| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
braggart
|
|
| n.吹牛者；adj.吹牛的，自夸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
tickle
|
|
| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
ribs
|
|
| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
colander
|
|
| n.滤器，漏勺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
prodding
|
|
| v.刺，戳( prod的现在分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
binding
|
|
| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
relatively
|
|
| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
premises
|
|
| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
soothed
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
scrawled
|
|
| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
ransacked
|
|
| v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
mores
|
|
| n.风俗，习惯，民德，道德观念 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
lint
|
|
| n.线头；绷带用麻布，皮棉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
lengthened
|
|
| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
contrived
|
|
| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
surgical
|
|
| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
lessen
|
|
| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
bemoan
|
|
| v.悲叹，哀泣，痛哭；惋惜，不满于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
beset
|
|
| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
crates
|
|
| n. 板条箱, 篓子, 旧汽车 vt. 装进纸条箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
enlisting
|
|
| v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的现在分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
promising
|
|
| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
climax
|
|
| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
futile
|
|
| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
fray
|
|
| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
rankled
|
|
| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
flick
|
|
| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
zest
|
|
| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
engrossed
|
|
| adj.全神贯注的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |