The passports had arrived next morning, as Frau von Einem had promised, and with them a plan of our journey. More, one of the Companions, who spoke1 a little English, was detailed2 to accompany us—a wise precaution, for no one of us had a word of Turkish. These were the sum of our instructions. I heard nothing more of Sandy or Greenmantle or the lady. We were meant to travel in our own party.
We had the railway to Angora, a very comfortable German Schlafwagen, tacked3 to the end of a troop-train. There wasn’t much to be seen of the country, for after we left the Bosporus we ran into scuds4 of snow, and except that we seemed to be climbing on to a big plateau I had no notion of the landscape. It was a marvel5 that we made such good time, for that line was congested beyond anything I have ever seen. The place was crawling with the Gallipoli troops, and every siding was packed with supply trucks. When we stopped—which we did on an average about once an hour—you could see vast camps on both sides of the line, and often we struck regiments6 on the march along the railway track. They looked a fine, hardy7 lot of ruffians, but many were deplorably ragged8, and I didn’t think much of their boots. I wondered how they would do the five hundred miles of road to Erzerum.
Blenkiron played Patience, and Peter and I took a hand at picquet, but mostly we smoked and yarned9. Getting away from that infernal city had cheered us up wonderfully. Now we were out on the open road, moving to the sound of the guns. At the worst, we should not perish like rats in a sewer10. We would be all together, too, and that was a comfort. I think we felt the relief which a man who has been on a lonely outpost feels when he is brought back to his battalion11. Besides, the thing had gone clean beyond our power to direct. It was no good planning and scheming, for none of us had a notion what the next step might be. We were fatalists now, believing in Kismet, and that is a comfortable faith.
All but Blenkiron. The coming of Hilda von Einem into the business had put a very ugly complexion12 on it for him. It was curious to see how she affected13 the different members of our gang. Peter did not care a rush: man, woman, and hippogriff were the same to him; he met it all as calmly as if he were making plans to round up an old lion in a patch of bush, taking the facts as they came and working at them as if they were a sum in arithmetic. Sandy and I were impressed—it’s no good denying it: horribly impressed—but we were too interested to be scared, and we weren’t a bit fascinated. We hated her too much for that. But she fairly struck Blenkiron dumb. He said himself it was just like a rattlesnake and a bird.
I made him talk about her, for if he sat and brooded he would get worse. It was a strange thing that this man, the most imperturbable14 and, I think, about the most courageous15 I have ever met, should be paralysed by a slim woman. There was no doubt about it. The thought of her made the future to him as black as a thunder cloud. It took the power out of his joints16, and if she was going to be much around, it looked as if Blenkiron might be counted out.
I suggested that he was in love with her, but this he vehemently17 denied.
“No, Sir; I haven’t got no sort of affection for the lady. My trouble is that she puts me out of countenance18, and I can’t fit her in as an antagonist19. I guess we Americans haven’t got the right poise20 for dealing21 with that kind of female. We’ve exalted22 our womenfolk into little tin gods, and at the same time left them out of the real business of life. Consequently, when we strike one playing the biggest kind of man’s game we can’t place her. We aren’t used to regarding them as anything except angels and children. I wish I had had you boys’ upbringing.”
Angora was like my notion of some place such as Amiens in the retreat from Mons. It was one mass of troops and transport—the neck of the bottle, for more arrived every hour, and the only outlet23 was the single eastern road. The town was pandemonium24 into which distracted German officers were trying to introduce some order. They didn’t worry much about us, for the heart of Anatolia wasn’t a likely hunting-ground for suspicious characters. We took our passport to the commandant, who visaed them readily, and told us he’d do his best to get us transport. We spent the night in a sort of hotel, where all four crowded into one little bedroom, and next morning I had my work cut out getting a motor-car. It took four hours, and the use of every great name in the Turkish Empire, to raise a dingy26 sort of Studebaker, and another two to get the petrol and spare tyres. As for a chauffeur27, love or money couldn’t find him, and I was compelled to drive the thing myself.
We left just after midday and swung out into bare bleak28 downs patched with scrubby woodlands. There was no snow here, but a wind was blowing from the east which searched the marrow29. Presently we climbed up into hills, and the road, though not badly engineered to begin with, grew as rough as the channel of a stream. No wonder, for the traffic was like what one saw on that awful stretch between Cassel and Ypres, and there were no gangs of Belgian roadmakers to mend it up. We found troops by the thousands striding along with their impassive Turkish faces, ox convoys30, mule31 convoys, wagons32 drawn34 by sturdy little Anatolian horses, and, coming in the contrary direction, many shabby Red Crescent cars and wagons of the wounded. We had to crawl for hours on end, till we got past a block. Just before the darkening we seemed to outstrip35 the first press, and had a clear run for about ten miles over a low pass in the hills. I began to get anxious about the car, for it was a poor one at the best, and the road was guaranteed sooner or later to knock even a Rolls-Royce into scrap36 iron.
All the same it was glorious to be out in the open again. Peter’s face wore a new look, and he sniffed37 the bitter air like a stag. There floated up from little wayside camps the odour of wood-smoke and dung-fires. That, and the curious acrid38 winter smell of great wind-blown spaces, will always come to my memory as I think of that day. Every hour brought me peace of mind and resolution. I felt as I had felt when the battalion first marched from Aire towards the firing-line, a kind of keying-up and wild expectation. I’m not used to cities, and lounging about Constantinople had slackened my fibre. Now, as the sharp wind buffeted39 us, I felt braced40 to any kind of risk. We were on the great road to the east and the border hills, and soon we should stand upon the farthest battle-front of the war. This was no commonplace intelligence job. That was all over, and we were going into the firing-zone, going to take part in what might be the downfall of our enemies. I didn’t reflect that we were among those enemies, and would probably share their downfall if we were not shot earlier. The truth is, I had got out of the way of regarding the thing as a struggle between armies and nations. I hardly bothered to think where my sympathies lay. First and foremost it was a contest between the four of us and a crazy woman, and this personal antagonism41 made the strife42 of armies only a dimly-felt background.
We slept that night like logs on the floor of a dirty khan, and started next morning in a powder of snow. We were getting very high up now, and it was perishing cold. The Companion—his name sounded like Hussin—had travelled the road before and told me what the places were, but they conveyed nothing to me. All morning we wriggled43 through a big lot of troops, a brigade at least, who swung along at a great pace with a fine free stride that I don’t think I have ever seen bettered. I must say I took a fancy to the Turkish fighting man: I remembered the testimonial our fellows gave him as a clean fighter, and I felt very bitter that Germany should have lugged44 him into this dirty business. They halted for a meal, and we stopped, too, and lunched off some brown bread and dried figs45 and a flask46 of very sour wine. I had a few words with one of the officers who spoke a little German. He told me they were marching straight for Russia, since there had been a great Turkish victory in the Caucasus. “We have beaten the French and the British, and now it is Russia’s turn,” he said stolidly47, as if repeating a lesson. But he added that he was mortally sick of war.
In the afternoon we cleared the column and had an open road for some hours. The land now had a tilt48 eastward49, as if we were moving towards the valley of a great river. Soon we began to meet little parties of men coming from the east with a new look in their faces. The first lots of wounded had been the ordinary thing you see on every front, and there had been some pretence50 at organization. But these new lots were very weary and broken; they were often barefoot, and they seemed to have lost their transport and to be starving. You would find a group stretched by the roadside in the last stages of exhaustion51. Then would come a party limping along, so tired that they never turned their heads to look at us. Almost all were wounded, some badly, and most were horribly thin. I wondered how my Turkish friend behind would explain the sight to his men, if he believed in a great victory. They had not the air of the backwash of a conquering army.
Even Blenkiron, who was no soldier, noticed it.
“These boys look mighty52 bad,” he observed. “We’ve got to hustle53, Major, if we’re going to get seats for the last act.”
That was my own feeling. The sight made me mad to get on faster, for I saw that big things were happening in the East. I had reckoned that four days would take us from Angora to Erzerum, but here was the second nearly over and we were not yet a third of the way. I pressed on recklessly, and that hurry was our undoing54.
I have said that the Studebaker was a rotten old car. Its steering-gear was pretty dicky, and the bad surface and continual hairpin55 bends of the road didn’t improve it. Soon we came into snow lying fairly deep, frozen hard and rutted by the big transport-wagons. We bumped and bounced horribly, and were shaken about like peas in a bladder. I began to be acutely anxious about the old boneshaker, the more as we seemed a long way short of the village I had proposed to spend the night in. Twilight56 was falling and we were still in an unfeatured waste, crossing the shallow glen of a stream. There was a bridge at the bottom of a slope—a bridge of logs and earth which had apparently57 been freshly strengthened for heavy traffic. As we approached it at a good pace the car ceased to answer to the wheel.
I struggled desperately58 to keep it straight, but it swerved59 to the left and we plunged60 over a bank into a marshy61 hollow. There was a sickening bump as we struck the lower ground, and the whole party were shot out into the frozen slush. I don’t yet know how I escaped, for the car turned over and by rights I should have had my back broken. But no one was hurt. Peter was laughing, and Blenkiron, after shaking the snow out of his hair, joined him. For myself I was feverishly63 examining the machine. It was about as ugly as it could be, for the front axle was broken.
Here was a piece of hopeless bad luck. We were stuck in the middle of Asia Minor64 with no means of conveyance65, for to get a new axle there was as likely as to find snowballs on the Congo. It was all but dark and there was no time to lose. I got out the petrol tins and spare tyres and cached them among some rocks on the hillside. Then we collected our scanty66 baggage from the derelict Studebaker. Our only hope was Hussin. He had got to find us some lodging67 for the night, and next day we would have a try for horses or a lift in some passing wagon33. I had no hope of another car. Every automobile68 in Anatolia would now be at a premium69.
It was so disgusting a mishap70 that we all took it quietly. It was too bad to be helped by hard swearing. Hussin and Peter set off on different sides of the road to prospect71 for a house, and Blenkiron and I sheltered under the nearest rock and smoked savagely72.
Hussin was the first to strike oil. He came back in twenty minutes with news of some kind of dwelling73 a couple of miles up the stream. He went off to collect Peter, and, humping our baggage, Blenkiron and I plodded74 up the waterside. Darkness had fallen thick by this time, and we took some bad tosses among the bogs75. When Hussin and Peter overtook us they found a better road, and presently we saw a light twinkle in the hollow ahead.
It proved to be a wretched tumble-down farm in a grove76 of poplars—a foul-smelling, muddy yard, a two-roomed hovel of a house, and a barn which was tolerably dry and which we selected for our sleeping-place. The owner was a broken old fellow whose sons were all at the war, and he received us with the profound calm of one who expects nothing but unpleasantness from life.
By this time we had recovered our tempers, and I was trying hard to put my new Kismet philosophy into practice. I reckoned that if risks were foreordained, so were difficulties, and both must be taken as part of the day’s work. With the remains77 of our provisions and some curdled78 milk we satisfied our hunger and curled ourselves up among the pease straw of the barn. Blenkiron announced with a happy sigh that he had now been for two days quit of his dyspepsia.
That night, I remember, I had a queer dream. I seemed to be in a wild place among mountains, and I was being hunted, though who was after me I couldn’t tell. I remember sweating with fright, for I seemed to be quite alone and the terror that was pursuing me was more than human. The place was horribly quiet and still, and there was deep snow lying everywhere, so that each step I took was heavy as lead. A very ordinary sort of nightmare, you will say. Yes, but there was one strange feature in this one. The night was pitch dark, but ahead of me in the throat of the pass there was one patch of light, and it showed a rum little hill with a rocky top: what we call in South Africa a castrol or saucepan. I had a notion that if I could get to that castrol I should be safe, and I panted through the drifts towards it with the avenger79 of blood at my heels. I woke, gasping80, to find the winter morning struggling through the cracked rafters, and to hear Blenkiron say cheerily that his duodenum had behaved all night like a gentleman. I lay still for a bit trying to fix the dream, but it all dissolved into haze81 except the picture of the little hill, which was quite clear in every detail. I told myself it was a reminiscence of the veld, some spot down in the Wakkerstroom country, though for the life of me I couldn’t place it.
I pass over the next three days, for they were one uninterrupted series of heart-breaks. Hussin and Peter scoured82 the country for horses, Blenkiron sat in the barn and played Patience, while I haunted the roadside near the bridge in the hope of picking up some kind of conveyance. My task was perfectly83 futile84. The columns passed, casting wondering eyes on the wrecked85 car among the frozen rushes, but they could offer no help. My friend the Turkish officer promised to wire to Angora from some place or other for a fresh car, but, remembering the state of affairs at Angora, I had no hope from that quarter. Cars passed, plenty of them, packed with staff-officers, Turkish and German, but they were in far too big a hurry even to stop and speak. The only conclusion I reached from my roadside vigil was that things were getting very warm in the neighbourhood of Erzerum. Everybody on that road seemed to be in mad haste either to get there or to get away.
Hussin was the best chance, for, as I have said, the Companions had a very special and peculiar87 graft88 throughout the Turkish Empire. But the first day he came back empty-handed. All the horses had been commandeered for the war, he said; and though he was certain that some had been kept back and hidden away, he could not get on their track. The second day he returned with two—miserable screws and deplorably short in the wind from a diet of beans. There was no decent corn or hay left in the countryside. The third day he picked up a nice little Arab stallion: in poor condition, it is true, but perfectly sound. For these beasts we paid good money, for Blenkiron was well supplied and we had no time to spare for the interminable Oriental bargaining.
Hussin said he had cleaned up the countryside, and I believed him. I dared not delay another day, even though it meant leaving him behind. But he had no notion of doing anything of the kind. He was a good runner, he said, and could keep up with such horses as ours for ever. If this was the manner of our progress, I reckoned we would be weeks in getting to Erzerum.
We started at dawn on the morning of the fourth day, after the old farmer had blessed us and sold us some stale rye-bread. Blenkiron bestrode the Arab, being the heaviest, and Peter and I had the screws. My worst forebodings were soon realized, and Hussin, loping along at my side, had an easy job to keep up with us. We were about as slow as an ox-wagon. The brutes89 were unshod, and with the rough roads I saw that their feet would very soon go to pieces. We jogged along like a tinker’s caravan90, about five miles to the hour, as feckless a party as ever disgraced a highroad.
The weather was now a drizzle91, which increased my depression. Cars passed us and disappeared in the mist, going at thirty miles an hour to mock our slowness. None of us spoke, for the futility92 of the business clogged93 our spirits. I bit hard on my lip to curb94 my restlessness, and I think I would have sold my soul there and then for anything that could move fast. I don’t know any sorer trial than to be mad for speed and have to crawl at a snail’s pace. I was getting ripe for any kind of desperate venture.
About midday we descended95 on a wide plain full of the marks of rich cultivation96. Villages became frequent, and the land was studded with olive groves97 and scarred with water furrows98. From what I remembered of the map I judged that we were coming to that champagne99 country near Siwas, which is the granary of Turkey, and the home of the true Osmanli stock.
Then at the turning of the road we came to the caravanserai.
It was a dingy, battered100 place, with the pink plaster falling in patches from its walls. There was a courtyard abutting101 on the road, and a flat-topped house with a big hole in its side. It was a long way from any battle-ground, and I guessed that some explosion had wrought102 the damage. Behind it, a few hundred yards off, a detachment of cavalry103 were encamped beside a stream, with their horses tied up in long lines of pickets104.
In all the road before and behind there was no man to be seen except the troops by the stream. The owners, whoever they were, must be inside the caravanserai.
I have said I was in the mood for some desperate deed, and lo and behold106 providence107 had given me the chance! I coveted108 that car as I have never coveted anything on earth. At the moment all my plans had narrowed down to a feverish62 passion to get to the battle-field. We had to find Greenmantle at Erzerum, and once there we should have Hilda von Einem’s protection. It was a time of war, and a front of brass109 was the surest safety. But, indeed, I could not figure out any plan worth speaking of. I saw only one thing—a fast car which might be ours.
I said a word to the others, and we dismounted and tethered our horses at the near end of the courtyard. I heard the low hum of voices from the cavalrymen by the stream, but they were three hundred yards off and could not see us. Peter was sent forward to scout110 in the courtyard. In the building itself there was but one window looking on the road, and that was in the upper floor.
Meantime I crawled along beside the wall to where the car stood, and had a look at it. It was a splendid six-cylinder affair, brand new, with the tyres little worn. There were seven tins of petrol stacked behind as well as spare tyres, and, looking in, I saw map-cases and field-glasses strewn on the seats as if the owners had only got out for a minute to stretch their legs.
Peter came back and reported that the courtyard was empty.
“There are men in the upper room,” he said; “more than one, for I heard their voices. They are moving about restlessly, and may soon be coming out.”
I reckoned that there was no time to be lost, so I told the others to slip down the road fifty yards beyond the caravanserai and be ready to climb in as I passed. I had to start the infernal thing, and there might be shooting.
I waited by the car till I saw them reach the right distance. I could hear voices from the second floor of the house and footsteps moving up and down. I was in a fever of anxiety, for any moment a man might come to the window. Then I flung myself on the starting handle and worked like a demon25.
The cold made the job difficult, and my heart was in my mouth, for the noise in that quiet place must have woke the dead. Then, by the mercy of Heaven, the engine started, and I sprang to the driving seat, released the clutch, and opened the throttle111. The great car shot forward, and I seemed to hear behind me shrill112 voices. A pistol bullet bored through my hat, and another buried itself in a cushion beside me.
In a second I was clear of the place and the rest of the party were embarking113. Blenkiron got on the step and rolled himself like a sack of coals into the tonneau. Peter nipped up beside me, and Hussin scrambled114 in from the back over the folds of the hood86. We had our baggage in our pockets and had nothing to carry.
Bullets dropped round us, but did no harm. Then I heard a report at my ear, and out of a corner of my eye saw Peter lower his pistol. Presently we were out of range, and, looking back, I saw three men gesticulating in the middle of the road.
“May the devil fly away with this pistol,” said Peter ruefully. “I never could make good shooting with a little gun. Had I had my rifle...”
“What did you shoot for?” I asked in amazement115. “We’ve got the fellows’ car, and we don’t want to do them any harm.”
“It would have saved trouble had I had my rifle,” said Peter, quietly. “The little man you call Rasta was there, and he knew you. I heard him cry your name. He is an angry little man, and I observe that on this road there is a telegraph.”
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1
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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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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3
tacked
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| 用平头钉钉( tack的过去式和过去分词 )； 附加，增补； 帆船抢风行驶，用粗线脚缝 | |
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scuds
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| v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的第三人称单数 ) | |
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5
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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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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hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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yarned
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| vi.讲故事（yarn的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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10
sewer
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| n.排水沟，下水道 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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convoys
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| n.（有护航的）船队( convoy的名词复数 )；车队；护航（队）；护送队 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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outstrip
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| v.超过，跑过 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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40
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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41
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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42
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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43
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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44
lugged
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| vt.用力拖拉（lug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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45
figs
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| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
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46
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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47
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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48
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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49
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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50
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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51
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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52
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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53
hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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54
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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55
hairpin
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| n.簪,束发夹，夹发针 | |
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56
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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57
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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58
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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59
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
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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61
marshy
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| adj.沼泽的 | |
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62
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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63
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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64
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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65
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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66
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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67
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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68
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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69
premium
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| n.加付款；赠品；adj.高级的；售价高的 | |
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70
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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71
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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72
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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73
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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74
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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75
bogs
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| n.沼泽，泥塘( bog的名词复数 )；厕所v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的第三人称单数 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
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76
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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77
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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78
curdled
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| v.（使）凝结( curdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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avenger
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| n. 复仇者 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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81
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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82
scoured
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| 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 | |
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83
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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84
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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85
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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86
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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87
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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88
graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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89
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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90
caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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91
drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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92
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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93
clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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94
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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95
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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96
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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97
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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98
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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99
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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100
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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101
abutting
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| adj.邻接的v.（与…）邻接( abut的现在分词 )；（与…）毗连；接触；倚靠 | |
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102
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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103
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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104
pickets
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| 罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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105
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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106
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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107
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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108
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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109
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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110
scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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111
throttle
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| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
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112
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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113
embarking
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| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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114
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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115
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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