Shows how I entered Mazanderan of the Persians and saw Devils of Every Colour, and some Troopers. Hell and the Old Lady from Chicago. The Captain and the Lieutenant1.
Where the Big Horn and Yellowstone
Roar down their mountain path.
TWICE have I written this letter from end to end. Twice have I torn it up, fearing lest those across the water should say that I had gone mad on a sudden. Now we will begin for the third time quite solemnly and soberly. I have been through the Yellowstone National Park in a buggy, in the company of an adventurous4 old lady from Chicago and her husband, who disapproved6 of scenery as being ‘ongodly.’ I fancy it scared them.
We began, as you know, with the Mammoth7 Hot Springs. They are only a gigantic edition of those pink and white terraces not long ago destroyed by earthquake in New Zealand. At one end of the little valley in which the hotel stands, the lime-laden springs that break from the pine-covered hillsides have formed a frozen cataract8 of white, lemon, and palest pink formation, through and over and in which water of the warmest bubbles and drips and trickles9 from pale-green lagoon10 to exquisitely11 fretted12 basin. The ground rings hollow as a kerosene-tin, and some day the Mammoth Hotel, guests and all, will sink into the caverns13 below and be turned into a stalactite. When I set foot on the first of the terraces, a tourist-trampled ramp14 of scabby grey stuff, I met a stream of iron-red hot water which ducked into a hole like a rabbit. Followed a gentle chuckle15 of laughter, and then a deep, exhausted16 sigh from nowhere in particular. Fifty feet above my head a jet of steam rose up and died out in the blue. It was worse than the boiling mountain at Myanoshita. The dirty white deposit gave place to lime whiter than snow; and I found a basin which some learned hotel-keeper has christened Cleopatra’s pitcher17, or Mark Antony’s whisky jug18, or something equally poetical19. It was made of frosted silver; it was filled with water as clear as the sky. I do not know the depth of that wonder. The eye looked down beyond grottoes and caves of beryl into an abyss that communicated directly with the central fires of earth. And the pool was in pain, so that it could not refrain from talking about it; muttering and chattering20 and moaning. From the lips of the lime-ledges, forty feet under water, spurts21 of silver bubbles would fly up and break the peace of the crystal atop. Then the whole pool would shake and grow dim, and there were noises. I removed myself only to find other pools all equally unhappy, rifts22 in the ground, full of running, red-hot water, slippery sheets of deposit overlaid with greenish-grey hot water, and here and there pit-holes dry as a rifled tomb in India, dusty and waterless. Elsewhere the infernal waters had first boiled dead and then embalmed23 the pines and underwood, or the forest trees had taken heart and smothered24 up a blind formation with greenery, so that it was only by scraping the earth you could tell what fires had raged beneath. Yet the pines will win the battle in years to come, because Nature, who first forges all her work in her great smithies, has nearly finished this job, and is ready to temper it in the soft brown earth. The fires are dying down; the hotel is built where terraces have overflowed26 into flat wastes of deposit; the pines have taken possession of the high ground whence the terraces first started. Only the actual curve of the cataract stands clear, and it is guarded by soldiers who patrol it with loaded six-shooters, in order that the tourist may not bring up fence-rails and sink them in a pool, or chip the fretted tracery of the formations with a geological hammer, or, walking where the crust is too thin, foolishly cook himself.
I man?uvred round those soldiers. They were cavalry27 in a very slovenly28 uniform, dark-blue blouse, and light-blue trousers unstrapped, cut spoon-shape over the boot; cartridge29 belt, revolver, peaked cap, and worsted gloves — black buttons! By the mercy of Allah I opened conversation with a spectacled Scot. He had served the Queen in the Marines and a Line regiment30, and the ‘go-fever’ being in his bones, had drifted to America, there to serve Uncle Sam. We sat on the edge of an extinct little pool, that under happier circumstances would have grown into a geyser,. and began to discuss things generally. To us appeared yet another soldier. No need to ask his nationality or to be told that the troop called him ‘The Henglishman.’ A Cockney was he, who had seen something of warfare31 in Egypt, and had taken his discharge from a Fusilier regiment not unknown to you.
‘And how do things go?’
‘Very much as you please,’ said they. ‘There’s not half the discipline here that there is in the Queen’s service — not half — nor the work either, but what there is, is rough work. Why, there’s a sergeant32 now with a black eye that one of our men gave him. They won’t say anything about that, of course. Our punishments? Fines mostly, and then if you carry on too much you go to the cooler — that’s the clink. Yes, Sir. Horses? Oh, they’re devils, these Montanna horses. Bronchos mostly. We don’t slick ’em up for parade — not much. And the amount of schooling33 that you put into one English troop-horse would be enough for a whole squadron of these creatures. You’ll meet more troopers further up the Park. Go and look at their horses and their turnouts. I fancy it’ll startle you. I’m wearing a made tie and a breastpin under my blouse? Of course I am! I can wear anything I darn please. We aren’t particular here. I shouldn’t dare come on parade — no, nor yet fatigue34 duty — in this condition in the Old Country; but it don’t matter here. But don’t you forget, Sir, that it’s taught me how to trust to myself, and my shooting irons. I don’t want fifty orders to move me across the Park, and catch a poacher. Yes, they poach here. Men come in with an outfit35 and ponies36, smuggle37 in a gun or two, and shoot the bison. If you interfere38, they shoot at you. Then you confiscate39 all their outfit and their ponies. We have a pound full of them now down below. There’s our Captain over yonder. Speak to him if you want to know anything special. This service isn’t a patch on the Old Country’s service; but you look, if it was worked up it would be just a Hell of a service. But these citizens despise us, and they put us on to road-mending, and such like. ’Nough to ruin any army.’
To the Captain I addressed myself after my friends had gone. They told me that a good many American officers dressed by the French army. The Captain certainly might have been mistaken for a French officer of light cavalry, and he had more than the courtesy of a Frenchman. Yes, he had read a good deal about our Indian border warfare, and had been much struck with the likeness40 it bore to Red Indian warfare. I had better, when I reached the next cavalry post, scattered41 between two big geyser basins, introduce myself to a Captain and Lieutenant. They could show me things. He himself was devoting all his time to conserving42 the terraces, and surreptitiously running hot water into dried-up basins that fresh pools might form. ‘I get very interested in that sort of thing. It’s not duty, but it’s what I’m put here for.’ And then he began to talk of his troop as I have heard his brethren in India talk. Such a troop! Built up carefully, and watched lovingly; ‘not a man that I’d wish to exchange, and, what’s more, I believe not a man that would wish to leave on his own account. We’re different, I believe, from the English. Your officers value the horses; we set store on the men. We train them more than we do the horses.’
Of the American trooper I will tell you more hereafter. He is not a gentleman to be trifled with.
Next dawning, entering a buggy of fragile construction, with the old people from Chicago, I embarked43 on my perilous44 career. We ran straight up a mountain till we could see, sixty miles away, the white houses of Cook City on another mountain, and the whiplash-like trail leading thereto. The live air made me drunk. If Tom, the driver, had proposed to send the mares in a bee-line to the city, I should have assented46, and so would the old lady, who chewed gum and talked about her symptoms. The tub-ended rock-dog, which is but the translated prairie-dog, broke across the road under our horses’ feet, the rabbit and the chipmunk47 danced with fright; we heard the roar of the river, and the road went round a corner. On one side piled rock and shale48, that enjoined49 silence for fear of a general slide-down; on the other a sheer drop, and a fool of a noisy river below. Then, apparently50 in the middle of the road, lest any should find driving too easy, a post of rock. Nothing beyond that save the flank of a cliff. Then my stomach departed from me, as it does when you swing, for we left the dirt, which was at least some guarantee of safety, and sailed out round the curve, and up a steep incline, on a plank-road built out from the cliff. The planks51 were nailed at the outer edge, and did not shift or creak very much — but enough, quite enough. That was the Golden Gate. I got my stomach back again when we trotted52 out on to a vast upland adorned54 with a lake and hills. Have you ever seen an untouched land — the face of virgin55 Nature? It is rather a curious, sight, because the hills are choked with timber that has never known an axe56, and the storm has rent a way through this timber, so that a hundred thousand trees lie matted together in swathes; and, since each tree lies where it falls, you may behold57 trunk and branch returning to the earth whence they sprang — exactly as the body of man returns — each limb making its own little grave, the grass climbing above the bark, till at last there remains58 only the outline of a tree upon the rank undergrowth.
Then we drove under a cliff of obsidian59, which is black glass, some two hundred feet high; and the road at its foot was made of black glass that crackled. This was no great matter, because half an hour before Tom had pulled up in the woods that we might sufficiently60 admire a mountain who stood all by himself, shaking with laughter or rage.
The glass cliff overlooks a lake where the beavers61 built a dam about a mile and a half long in a zigzag63 line, as their necessities prompted. Then came the Government and strictly64 preserved them, and, as you shall learn later on, they be damn impudent65 beasts. The old lady had hardly explained the natural history of beavers before we climbed some hills — it really didn’t matter in that climate, because we could have scaled the stars — and (this mattered very much indeed) shot down a desperate, dusty slope, brakes shrieking66 on the wheels, the mares clicking among unseen rocks, the dust dense67 as a fog, and a wall of trees on either side. ‘How do the heavy four-horse coaches take it, Tom?’ I asked, remembering that some twenty-three souls had gone that way half an hour before. ‘Take it at the run!’ said Tom, spitting out the dust. Of course there was a sharp curve, and a bridge at the bottom, but luckily nothing met us, and we came to a wooden shanty68 called an hotel, in time for a crazy tiffin served by very gorgeous handmaids with very pink cheeks. When health fails in other and more exciting pursuits, a season as ‘help’ in one of the Yellowstone hotels will restore the frailest69 constitution.
Then by companies after tiffin we walked chattering to the uplands of Hell. They call it the Norris Geyser Basin on Earth. It was as though the tide of desolation had gone out, but would presently return, across innumerable acres of dazzling white geyser formation. There were no terraces here, but all other horrors. Not ten yards from the road a blast of steam shot up roaring every few seconds, a mud volcano spat70 filth71 to Heaven, streams of hot water rumbled72 under foot, plunged73 through the dead pines in steaming cataracts74 and died on a waste of white where green-grey, blackyellow, and pink pools roared, shouted, bubbled, or hissed75 as their wicked fancies prompted. By the look of the eye the place should have been frozen over. By the feel of the feet it was warm. I ventured out among the pools, carefully following tracks, but one unwary foot began to sink, a squirt of water followed, and having no desire to descend76 quick into Tophet I returned to the shore where the mud and the sulphur and the nameless fat ooze-vegetation of Lethe lay. But the very road rang as though built over a gulf77; and besides, how was I to tell when the raving78 blast of steam would find its vent5 insufficient79 and blow the whole affair into Nirvana? There was a potent80 stench of stale eggs everywhere, and crystals of sulphur crumbled81 under the foot, and the glare of the sun on the white stuff was blinding. Sitting under a bank, to me appeared a young trooper — ex-Cape Mounted Rifles, this man: the real American seems to object to his army-mounted on a horse half-maddened by the noise and steam and smell. He carried only the six-shooter and cartridge-belt. On service the Springfield carbine (which is clumsy) and a cartridge-belt slung82 diagonally complete equipment. The sword is no earthly use for Border warfare and, except at state parades, is never worn. The saddle is the M‘Clellan tree over a four-folded blanket. Sweat-leathers you must pay for yourself. And the beauty of the tree is that it necessitates83 first very careful girthing and a thorough knowledge of tricks with the blanket to suit the varying conditions of the horse — a broncho will bloat in a night. if he can get at a bellyful — and, secondly84, even more careful riding to prevent galling85. Crupper and breast-band do not seem to be used,— but they are casual about their accoutrements,— and the bit is the single, jaw-breaking curb86 which American war-pictures show us. That young man was very handsome, and the grey service hat — most like the under half of a seedy terai — shaded his strong face admirably as his horse backed and shivered and sidled and plunged all over the road, and he lectured from his saddle, one foot out of the heavy-hooded stirrup, one hand on the sweating neck. ‘He’s not used to the Park, this brute87, and he’s a confirmed bolter on parade; but we understand each other.’ Whoosh88! went the steamblast down the road with a dry roar. Round spun89 the troop horse prepared to bolt, and, his momentum90 being suddenly checked, reared till I thought he would fall back on his rider. ‘Oh no; we’ve settled that little matter when I was breaking him,’ said Centaur91. ‘He used to try to fall back on me. Isn’t he a devil? I think you’d laugh to see the way our regiments92 are horsed. Sometimes a big Montana beast like mine has a thirteen-two broncho pony93 for neighbour, and it’s annoying if you’re used to better things. And oh, how you have to ride your mount! It’s necessary; but I can tell you at the end of a long day’s march, when you’d give all the world to ride like a sack, it isn’t sweet to get extra drill for slouching. When we’re turned out, we’re turned out for anything — not a fifteen-mile trot53, but for the use and behoof of all the Northern States. I’ve been in Arizona. A trooper there who had been in India told me that Arizona was like Afghanistan. There’s nothing under Heaven there except horned toads94 and rattlesnakes — and Indians. Our trouble is that we only deal with Indians and they don’t teach us much, and of course the citizens look down on us and all that. As a matter of fact, I suppose we’re really only mounted infantry96, but remember we’re the best mounted infantry in the world.’ And the horse danced a fandango in proof.
‘ My faith!’ said I, looking at the dusty blouse, grey hat, soiled leather accoutrements, and whalebone poise97 of the wearer. ‘If they are all like you, you are.’
‘ Thanks, whoever you may be. Of course if we were turned into a lawn-tennis court and told to resist, say, your heavy cavalry, we’d be ridden off the face of the earth if we couldn’t get away. We have neither the weight nor the drill for a charge. My horse, for instance, by English standards, is half-broken, and like all the others, he bolts when we’re in line. But cavalry charge against cavalry charge doesn’t happen often, and if it did, well — all our men know that up to a hundred yards they are absolutely safe behind this old thing.’ He patted his revolver pouch98. ‘Absolutely safe from any shooting of yours. What man do you think would dare to use a pistol at even thirty yards, if his life depended on it? Not one of your men. They can’t shoot. We can. You’ll hear about that down the Park — further up.’
Then he added, courteously99: ‘Just now it seems that the English supply all the men to the American Army. That’s what makes them so good perhaps.’ And with mutual100 expressions of good-will we parted — he to an outlying patrol fifteen miles away, I to my buggy and the old lady, who, regarding the horrors of the fire-holes, could only say, ‘Good Lord!’ at thirty-second intervals101. Her husband talked about ‘dreffel waste of steam-power,’ and we went on in the clear, crisp afternoon, speculating as to the formation of geysers.
‘What I say,’ shrieked102 the old lady apropos103 of matters theological, ‘and what I say more, after having seen all that, is that the Lord has ordained104 a Hell for such as disbelieve His gracious works.’
Nota bene.— Tom had profanely105 cursed the near mare45 for stumbling. He looked straight in front of him and said no word, but the left corner of his left eye flickered106 in my direction.
‘ And if,’ continued the old lady, ‘if we find a thing so dreffel as all that steam and sulphur allowed on the face of the earth, mustn’t we believe that there is something ten thousand times more terrible below prepared untoe our destruction?’
Some people have a wonderful knack107 of extracting comfort from things. I am ashamed to say I agreed ostentatiously with the old lady. She developed the personal view of the matter.
‘Now I shall be able to say something to Anna Fincher about her way of living. Shan’t I, Blake?’ This to her husband.
‘Yes,’ said he, speaking slowly after a heavy tiffin. ‘But the girl’s a good girl’; and they fell to arguing as to whether the luckless Anna Fincher really stood in need of lectures edged with Hell fire (she went to dances, I believe), while I got out and walked in the dust alongside of Tom.
‘I drive blame cur’ous kinder folk through this place,’ said he. ‘Blame cur’ous. ’Seems a pity that they should ha’ come so far just to liken Norris Basin to Hell. ’Guess Chicago would ha’ served ’em, speaking in comparison, jest as good.’
We curved the hill and entered a forest of spruce, the path serpentining108 between the treeboles, the wheels running silent on immemorial mould. There was nothing alive in the forest save ourselves. Only a river was speaking angrily somewhere to the right. For miles we drove till Tom bade us alight and look at certain falls. Wherefore we stepped out of that forest and nearly fell down a cliff which guarded a tumbled river and returned demanding fresh miracles. If the water had run uphill, we should perhaps have taken more notice of it; but ’twas only a waterfall, and I really forget whether the water was warm or cold. There is a stream here called Firehole River. It is fed by the overflow25 from the various geysers and basins,— a warm and deadly river wherein no fish breed. I think we crossed it a few dozen times in the course of a day.
Then the sun began to sink, and there was a taste of frost about, and we went swiftly from the forest into the open, dashed across a branch of the Firehole River and found a wood shanty, even rougher than the last, at which, after a forty-mile drive, we were to dine and sleep. Half a mile from this place stood, on the banks of the Firehole River, a ‘beaver62-lodge109,’ and there were rumours110 of bears and other cheerful monsters in the woods on the hill at the back of the building.
In the cool, crisp quiet of the evening I sought that river, and found a pile of newly gnawed111 sticks and twigs112. The beaver works with the cold-chisel, and a few clean strokes suffice to level a four-inch bole. Across the water on the far bank glimmered113, with the ghastly white of peeled dead timber, the beaver-lodge — a mass of dishevelled branches. The inhabitants had dammed the stream lower down and spread it into a nice little lake. The question was would they come out for their walk before it got too dark to see. They came — blessings114 on their blunt muzzles115, they came — as shadows come, drifting down the stream, stirring neither foot nor tail. There were three of them. One went down to investigate the state of the dam; the other two began to look for supper. There is only one thing more startling than the noiselessness of a tiger in the jungle, and that is the noiselessness of a beaver in the water. The straining ear could catch no sound whatever till they began to eat the thick green river-scudge that they call beaver grass. I, bowed among the logs, held my breath and stared with all my eyes. They were not ten yards from me, and they would have eaten their dinner in peace so long as I had kept absolutely still. They were dear and desirable beasts, and I was just preparing to creep a step nearer when that wicked old lady from Chicago clattered116 down the bank, an umbrella in her hand, shrieking: ‘Beavers, beavers! young man, whurr are those beavers? Good Lord! what was that now?’
The solitary117 watcher might have heard a pistol shot ring through the air. I wish it had killed the old lady, but it was only the beaver giving warning of danger with the slap of his tail on the water. It was exactly like the ‘phink’ of a pistol fired with damp powder. Then there were no more beavers — not a whisker-end. The lodge, however, was there, and a beast lower than any beaver began to throw stones at it because the old lady from Chicago said: ‘P’raps, if you rattle95 them up they’ll come out. I do so want to see a beaver.’
Yet it cheers me to think I have seen the beaver in his wilds. Never will I go to the Zoo. That even, after supper —’twere flattery to call it dinner — a Captain and a Subaltern of the cavalry post appeared at the hotel. These were the officers of whom the Mammoth Springs Captain had spoken. The Lieutenant had read everything that he could lay hands on about the Indian army, especially our cavalry arrangements, and was very full of a scheme for raising the riding Red Indians — it is not every noble savage119 that will make a trooper — into frontier levies120 — a sort of Khyber guard. ‘Only,’ as he said ruefully, ‘there is no frontier these days, and all our Indian wars are nearly over. Those beautiful beasts will die out, and nobody will ever know what splendid cavalry they can make.’
The Captain told stories of Border warfare — of ambush121, firing on the rear-guard, heat that split the skull122 better than any tomahawk, cold that wrinkled the very liver, night-stampedes of baggage-mules, raiding of cattle, and hopeless stern-chases into inhospitable hills, when the cavalry knew that they were not only being outpaced but outspied. Then he spoke118 of one fair charge when a tribe gave battle in the open and the troopers rode in swordless, firing right and left with their revolvers and — it was excessively uncomfy for that tribe. And I spoke of what men had told me of huntings in Burma, of hill-climbing in the Black Mountain affair, and so forth123.
‘Exactly!’ said the Captain. ‘Nobody knows and nobody cares. What does it matter to the Down-Easter who Wrap-up-his-Tail was?’
‘And what does the fat Briton know or care about Boh Hla-Oo?’ said I. Then both together: ‘Depend upon it, my dear Sir, the army in both Anglo-Saxon countries is a mischievously124 underestimated institution, and it’s a pleasure to meet a man who,’ etc., etc. And we nodded triangularly125 in all good-will, and swore eternal friendship. The Lieutenant made a statement which rather amazed me. He said that, on account of the scarcity126 of business, many American officers were to be found getting practical instruction from little troubles among the South American Republics. When the need broke out they would return. ‘There is so little for us to do, and the Republic has a trick of making us hedge and ditch for our pay. A little road-making on service is not a bad thing, but continuous navvying is enough to knock the heart out of any army.’
I agreed, and we sat up till two in the morning swapping127 the lies of East and West. As that glorious chief Man-afraid-of-Pink-Rats once said to the Agent on the Reservation: ‘’Melican officer good man. Heap good man. Drink me. Drink he. Drink me. Drink he. Drink he. Me blind. Heap good man!’
收听单词发音 |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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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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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mammoth
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| n.长毛象；adj.长毛象似的，巨大的 | |
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cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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trickles
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| n.细流( trickle的名词复数 )；稀稀疏疏缓慢来往的东西v.滴( trickle的第三人称单数 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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ramp
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| n.暴怒，斜坡，坡道；vi.作恐吓姿势，暴怒，加速；vt.加速 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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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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spurts
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| 短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 )； 突然奋起 | |
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rifts
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| n.裂缝( rift的名词复数 )；裂隙；分裂；不和 | |
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embalmed
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| adj.用防腐药物保存（尸体）的v.保存（尸体）不腐( embalm的过去式和过去分词 )；使不被遗忘；使充满香气 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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slovenly
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| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
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cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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31
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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32
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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33
schooling
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| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
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34
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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35
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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36
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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37
smuggle
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| vt.私运；vi.走私 | |
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38
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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39
confiscate
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| v.没收(私人财产)，把…充公 | |
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40
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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41
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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42
conserving
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| v.保护，保藏，保存( conserve的现在分词 ) | |
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43
embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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44
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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45
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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46
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
chipmunk
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| n.花栗鼠 | |
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48
shale
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| n.页岩，泥板岩 | |
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49
enjoined
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| v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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51
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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52
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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53
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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54
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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55
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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56
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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57
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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58
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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59
obsidian
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| n.黑曜石 | |
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60
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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61
beavers
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| 海狸( beaver的名词复数 )； 海狸皮毛； 棕灰色； 拼命工作的人 | |
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62
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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63
zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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64
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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65
impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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66
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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67
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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68
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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69
frailest
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| 脆弱的( frail的最高级 )； 易损的； 易碎的 | |
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70
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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71
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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72
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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73
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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74
cataracts
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| n.大瀑布( cataract的名词复数 )；白内障 | |
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75
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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76
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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77
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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78
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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79
insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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80
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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81
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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82
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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83
necessitates
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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84
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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85
galling
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| adj.难堪的,使烦恼的,使焦躁的 | |
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86
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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87
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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88
whoosh
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| v.飞快地移动，呼 | |
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89
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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90
momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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91
centaur
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| n.人首马身的怪物 | |
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92
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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93
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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94
toads
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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95
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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96
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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97
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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98
pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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99
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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100
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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101
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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102
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
apropos
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| adv.恰好地；adj.恰当的；关于 | |
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104
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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105
profanely
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| adv.渎神地，凡俗地 | |
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106
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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107
knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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108
serpentining
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| v.像蛇般蜷曲的，蜿蜒的( serpentine的现在分词 ) | |
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109
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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110
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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111
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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112
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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113
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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115
muzzles
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| 枪口( muzzle的名词复数 )； （防止动物咬人的）口套； （四足动物的）鼻口部； （狗）等凸出的鼻子和口 | |
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116
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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117
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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118
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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119
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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120
levies
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| （部队）征兵( levy的名词复数 )； 募捐； 被征募的军队 | |
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121
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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122
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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123
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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124
mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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125
triangularly
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| 成三角形地 | |
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126
scarcity
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| n.缺乏，不足，萧条 | |
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127
swapping
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| 交换，交换技术 | |
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