章节正文
Face down, Sarah Duncan lay across the trail. When Freckles turned
her over, his blood chilled at the look of horror settled on her face.
There was a low humming and something spatted against him.
Glancing around, Freckles shivered in terror, for there was a swarm
of wild bees settled on a scrub-thorn only a few yards away.
The air was filled with excited, unsettled bees making ready to
lead farther in search of a suitablelocation. Then he thought he
understood, and with a prayer of thankfulness in his heart that she
had escaped, even so narrowly, he caught her up and hurried down
the trail until they were well out of danger. He laid her in the
shade, and carrying water from the swamp in the crown of his hat,
he bathed her face and hands; but she lay in unbrokenstillness,
without a sign of life.
She had found Freckles' boots so large and heavy that she had gone
back and taken them off, although she was mortally afraid to
approach the swamp without them. The thought of it made her
nervous, and the fact that she never had been there alone added to
her fears. She had not followed the trail many rods when her
trouble began. She was not Freckles, so not a bird of the line was
going to be fooled into thinking she was.
They began jumping from their nests and darting from unexpected
places around her head and feet, with quick whirs, that kept her
starting and dodging. Before Freckles was halfway to the town, poor
Mrs. Duncan was hysterical, and the Limberlost had neither sung nor
performed for her.
But there was trouble brewing. It was quiet and intensely hot, with
that stifling stillness that precedes a summer storm, and feathers
and fur were tense and nervous. The birds were singing only a few
broken snatches, and flying around, seeking places of shelter.
One moment everything seemed devoid of life, the next there was an
unexpected whir, buzz, and sharp cry. Inside, a pandemonium of
growling, spatting, snarling, and grunting broke loose.
The swale bent flat before heavy gusts of wind, and the big black
chicken swept lower and lower above the swamp. Patches of clouds
gathered, shutting out the sun and making it very dark, and the
next moment were swept away. The sun poured with fierce, burning
brightness, and everything was quiet. It was at the first growl of
thunder that Freckles really had noticed the weather, and putting
his own troubles aside resolutely, raced for the swamp.
Sarah Duncan paused on the line. "Weel, I wouldna stay in this
place for a million a month," she said aloud, and the sound of her
voice brought no comfort, for it was so little like she had thought
it that she glanced hastily around to see if it had really been she
that spoke. She tremblingly wiped the perspiration from her face
with the skirt of her sunbonnet.
"Awfu' hot," she panted huskily. "B'lieve there's going to be a
big storm. I do hope Freckles will hurry."
Her chin was quivering as a terrified child's. She lifted her
bonnet to replace it and brushed against a bush beside her.
WHIRR, almost into her face, went a nighthawk stretched along a limb
for its daytime nap. Mrs. Duncan cried out and sprang down the trail,
alighting on a frog that was hopping across. The horrible croak it
gave as she crushed it sickened her. She screamed wildly and jumped
to one side. That carried her into the swale, where the grasses
reached almost to her waist, and her horror of snakes returning,
she made a flying leap for an old log lying beside the line.
She alighted squarely, but it was so damp and rotten that she sank
straight through it to her knees. She caught at the wire as she
went down, and missing, raked her wrist across a barb until she
tore a bleeding gash. Her fingers closed convulsively around the
second strand. She was too frightened to scream now. Her tongue
stiffened. She clung frantically to the sagging wire, and finally
managed to grasp it with the other hand. Then she could reach the top
wire, and so she drew herself up and found solid footing. She picked
up the club that she had dropped in order to extricate herself.
Leaning heavily on it, she managed to return to the trail, but
she was trembling so that she scarcely could walk. Going a few
steps farther, she came to the stump of the first tree that had
been taken out.
She sat bolt upright and very still, trying to collect her thoughts
and reason away her terror. A squirrel above her dropped a nut, and
as it came rattling down, bouncing from branch to branch, every
nerve in her tugged wildly. When the disgusted squirrel barked
loudly, she sprang to the trail.
The wind arose higher, the changes from light to darkness were more
abrupt, while the thunder came closer and louder at every peal.
In swarms the blackbirds arose from the swale and came flocking
to the interior, with a clamoring cry: "T'CHECK, T'CHECK."
Grackles marshaled to the tribal call: "TRALL-A-HEE, TRALL-A-HEE."
Red-winged blackbirds swept low, calling to belated mates:
"FOL-LOW-ME, FOL-LOW-ME." Big, jetty crows gathered close to her,
crying, as if warning her to flee before it was everlastingly
too late. A heron, fishing the near-by pool for Freckles' "find-out"
frog, fell into trouble with a muskrat and uttered a rasping note
that sent Mrs. Duncan a rod down the line without realizing that
she had moved. She was too shaken to run far. She stopped and
looked around her fearfully.
Several bees struck her and were angrily buzzing before she
noticed them. Then the humming swelled on all sides.
A convulsive sob shook her, and she ran into the bushes,
now into the swale, anywhere to avoid the swarming bees, ducking,
dodging, fighting for her very life. Presently the humming
seemed to become a little fainter. She found the trail again,
and ran with all her might from a few of her angry pursuers.
As she ran, straining every muscle, she suddenly became aware that,
crossing the trail before her, was a big, round, black body, with
brown markings on its back, like painted geometrical patterns.
She tried to stop, but the louder buzzing behind warned her she
dared not. Gathering her skirts higher, with hair flying around her
face and her eyes almost bursting from their sockets, she ran straight
toward it. The sound of her feet and the humming of the bees
alarmed the rattler, so it stopped across the trail, lifting its
head above the grasses of the swale and rattling inquiringly--rattled
until the bees were outdone.
Straight toward it went the panic-stricken woman, running wildly
and uncontrollably. She took one leap, clearing its body on the
path, then flew ahead with winged feet. The snake, coiled to
strike, missed Mrs. Duncan and landed among the bees instead.
They settled over and around it, and realizing that it had found
trouble, it sank among the grasses and went threshing toward its
den in the deep willow-fringed low ground. The swale appeared as if
a reaper were cutting a wide swath. The mass of enraged bees darted
angrily around, searching for it, and striking the scrub-thorn,
began a temporary settling there to discover whether it were a
suitable place. Completely exhausted, Mrs. Duncan staggered on a
few steps farther, fell facing the path, where Freckles found her,
and lay quietly.
Freckles worked over her until she drew a long, quivering breath
and opened her eyes.
When she saw him bending above her, she closed them tightly, and
gripping him, struggled to her feet. He helped her, and with his
arm around and half carrying her, they made their way to the clearing.
She clung to him with all her remaining strength, but open her eyes
she would not until her children came clustering around her.
Then, brawny, big Scotswoman though she was, she quietly keeled
over again. The children added their wailing to Freckles' panic.
This time he was so close the cabin that he could carry her into
the house and lay her on the bed. He sent the oldest boy scudding
down the corduroy for the nearest neighbor, and between them they
undressed Mrs. Duncan and discovered that she was not bitten.
They bathed and bound the bleeding wrist and coaxed her back
to consciousness. She lay sobbing and shuddering. The first
intelligent word she said was: "Freckles, look at that jar on the
kitchen table and see if my yeast is no running ower."
Several days passed before she could give Duncan and Freckles any
detailed account of what had happened to her, even then she could
not do it without crying as the least of her babies. Freckles was
almost heartbroken, and nursed her as well as any woman could have
done; while big Duncan, with a heart full for them both, worked
early and late to chink every crack of the cabin and examine every
spot that possibly could harbor a snake. The effects of her morning
on the trail kept her shivering half the time. She could not rest
until she sent for McLean and begged him to save Freckles from
further risk, in that place of horrors. The Boss went to the swamp
with his mind fully determined to do so.
Freckles stood and laughed at him. "Why, Mr. McLean, don't you
let a woman's nervoussystem set you worrying about me," he said.
"I'm not denying how she felt, because I've been through it meself,
but that's all over and gone. It's the height of me glory to fight it
out with the old swamp, and all that's in it, or will be coming to
it, and then to turn it over to you as I promised you and meself
I'd do, sir. You couldn't break the heart of me entire quicker than
to be taking it from me now, when I'm just on the home-stretch.
It won't be over three or four weeks yet, and when I've gone it
almost a year, why, what's that to me, sir? You mustn't let a
woman get mixed up with business, for I've always heard about how
it's bringing trouble."
McLean smiled. "What about that last tree?" he said.
Freckles blushed and grinned appreciatively.
"Angels and Bird Women don't count in the common run, sir," he
affirmed shamelessly.
McLean sat in the saddle and laughed.
CHAPTER X
Wherein Freckles Strives Mightily and the Swamp Angel Rewards Him
The Bird Woman and the Angel did not seem to count in the common
run, for they arrived on time for the third of the series and found
McLean on the line talking to Freckles. The Boss was filled with
enthusiasm over a marsh article of the Bird Woman's that he just
had read. He begged to be allowed to accompany her into the swamp
and watch the method by which she secured an illustration in such
a location.
The Bird Woman explained to him that it was an easy matter with the
subject she then had in hand; and as Little Chicken was too small
to be frightened by him, and big enough to be growing troublesome,
she was glad for his company. They went to the chicken log
together, leaving to the happy Freckles the care of the Angel, who
had brought her banjo and a roll of songs that she wanted to hear
him sing. The Bird Woman told them that they might practice in
Freckles' room until she finished with Little Chicken, and then she
and McLean would come to the concert.
It was almost three hours before they finished and came down the
west trail for their rest and lunch. McLean walked ahead, keeping
sharp watch on the trail and clearing it of fallen limbs from
overhanging trees. He sent a big piece of bark flying into the
swale, and then stopped short and stared at the trail.
The Bird Woman bent forward. Together they studied that imprint of
the Angel's foot. At last their eyes met, the Bird Woman's filled
with astonishment, and McLean's humid with pity. Neither said a
word, but they knew. McLean entered the swale and hunted up the bark.
He replaced it, and the Bird Woman carefully stepped over. As they
reached the bushes at the entrance, the voice of the Angel stopped
them, for it was commanding and filled with much impatience.
"Freckles James Ross McLean!" she was saying. "You fill me with
dark-blue despair! You're singing as if your voice were glass and
might break at any minute. Why don't you sing as you did a week ago?
Answer me that, please."
Freckles smiled confusedly at the Angel, who sat on one of his
fancy seats, playing his accompaniment on her banjo.
"You are a fraud," she said. "Here you went last week and led me to
think that there was the making of a great singer in you, and now
you are singing--do you know how badly you are singing?"
her over, his blood chilled at the look of horror settled on her face.
There was a low humming and something spatted against him.
Glancing around, Freckles shivered in terror, for there was a swarm
of wild bees settled on a scrub-thorn only a few yards away.
The air was filled with excited, unsettled bees making ready to
lead farther in search of a suitablelocation. Then he thought he
understood, and with a prayer of thankfulness in his heart that she
had escaped, even so narrowly, he caught her up and hurried down
the trail until they were well out of danger. He laid her in the
shade, and carrying water from the swamp in the crown of his hat,
he bathed her face and hands; but she lay in unbrokenstillness,
without a sign of life.
She had found Freckles' boots so large and heavy that she had gone
back and taken them off, although she was mortally afraid to
approach the swamp without them. The thought of it made her
nervous, and the fact that she never had been there alone added to
her fears. She had not followed the trail many rods when her
trouble began. She was not Freckles, so not a bird of the line was
going to be fooled into thinking she was.
They began jumping from their nests and darting from unexpected
places around her head and feet, with quick whirs, that kept her
starting and dodging. Before Freckles was halfway to the town, poor
Mrs. Duncan was hysterical, and the Limberlost had neither sung nor
performed for her.
But there was trouble brewing. It was quiet and intensely hot, with
that stifling stillness that precedes a summer storm, and feathers
and fur were tense and nervous. The birds were singing only a few
broken snatches, and flying around, seeking places of shelter.
One moment everything seemed devoid of life, the next there was an
unexpected whir, buzz, and sharp cry. Inside, a pandemonium of
growling, spatting, snarling, and grunting broke loose.
The swale bent flat before heavy gusts of wind, and the big black
chicken swept lower and lower above the swamp. Patches of clouds
gathered, shutting out the sun and making it very dark, and the
next moment were swept away. The sun poured with fierce, burning
brightness, and everything was quiet. It was at the first growl of
thunder that Freckles really had noticed the weather, and putting
his own troubles aside resolutely, raced for the swamp.
Sarah Duncan paused on the line. "Weel, I wouldna stay in this
place for a million a month," she said aloud, and the sound of her
voice brought no comfort, for it was so little like she had thought
it that she glanced hastily around to see if it had really been she
that spoke. She tremblingly wiped the perspiration from her face
with the skirt of her sunbonnet.
"Awfu' hot," she panted huskily. "B'lieve there's going to be a
big storm. I do hope Freckles will hurry."
Her chin was quivering as a terrified child's. She lifted her
bonnet to replace it and brushed against a bush beside her.
WHIRR, almost into her face, went a nighthawk stretched along a limb
for its daytime nap. Mrs. Duncan cried out and sprang down the trail,
alighting on a frog that was hopping across. The horrible croak it
gave as she crushed it sickened her. She screamed wildly and jumped
to one side. That carried her into the swale, where the grasses
reached almost to her waist, and her horror of snakes returning,
she made a flying leap for an old log lying beside the line.
She alighted squarely, but it was so damp and rotten that she sank
straight through it to her knees. She caught at the wire as she
went down, and missing, raked her wrist across a barb until she
tore a bleeding gash. Her fingers closed convulsively around the
second strand. She was too frightened to scream now. Her tongue
stiffened. She clung frantically to the sagging wire, and finally
managed to grasp it with the other hand. Then she could reach the top
wire, and so she drew herself up and found solid footing. She picked
up the club that she had dropped in order to extricate herself.
Leaning heavily on it, she managed to return to the trail, but
she was trembling so that she scarcely could walk. Going a few
steps farther, she came to the stump of the first tree that had
been taken out.
She sat bolt upright and very still, trying to collect her thoughts
and reason away her terror. A squirrel above her dropped a nut, and
as it came rattling down, bouncing from branch to branch, every
nerve in her tugged wildly. When the disgusted squirrel barked
loudly, she sprang to the trail.
The wind arose higher, the changes from light to darkness were more
abrupt, while the thunder came closer and louder at every peal.
In swarms the blackbirds arose from the swale and came flocking
to the interior, with a clamoring cry: "T'CHECK, T'CHECK."
Grackles marshaled to the tribal call: "TRALL-A-HEE, TRALL-A-HEE."
Red-winged blackbirds swept low, calling to belated mates:
"FOL-LOW-ME, FOL-LOW-ME." Big, jetty crows gathered close to her,
crying, as if warning her to flee before it was everlastingly
too late. A heron, fishing the near-by pool for Freckles' "find-out"
frog, fell into trouble with a muskrat and uttered a rasping note
that sent Mrs. Duncan a rod down the line without realizing that
she had moved. She was too shaken to run far. She stopped and
looked around her fearfully.
Several bees struck her and were angrily buzzing before she
noticed them. Then the humming swelled on all sides.
A convulsive sob shook her, and she ran into the bushes,
now into the swale, anywhere to avoid the swarming bees, ducking,
dodging, fighting for her very life. Presently the humming
seemed to become a little fainter. She found the trail again,
and ran with all her might from a few of her angry pursuers.
As she ran, straining every muscle, she suddenly became aware that,
crossing the trail before her, was a big, round, black body, with
brown markings on its back, like painted geometrical patterns.
She tried to stop, but the louder buzzing behind warned her she
dared not. Gathering her skirts higher, with hair flying around her
face and her eyes almost bursting from their sockets, she ran straight
toward it. The sound of her feet and the humming of the bees
alarmed the rattler, so it stopped across the trail, lifting its
head above the grasses of the swale and rattling inquiringly--rattled
until the bees were outdone.
Straight toward it went the panic-stricken woman, running wildly
and uncontrollably. She took one leap, clearing its body on the
path, then flew ahead with winged feet. The snake, coiled to
strike, missed Mrs. Duncan and landed among the bees instead.
They settled over and around it, and realizing that it had found
trouble, it sank among the grasses and went threshing toward its
den in the deep willow-fringed low ground. The swale appeared as if
a reaper were cutting a wide swath. The mass of enraged bees darted
angrily around, searching for it, and striking the scrub-thorn,
began a temporary settling there to discover whether it were a
suitable place. Completely exhausted, Mrs. Duncan staggered on a
few steps farther, fell facing the path, where Freckles found her,
and lay quietly.
Freckles worked over her until she drew a long, quivering breath
and opened her eyes.
When she saw him bending above her, she closed them tightly, and
gripping him, struggled to her feet. He helped her, and with his
arm around and half carrying her, they made their way to the clearing.
She clung to him with all her remaining strength, but open her eyes
she would not until her children came clustering around her.
Then, brawny, big Scotswoman though she was, she quietly keeled
over again. The children added their wailing to Freckles' panic.
This time he was so close the cabin that he could carry her into
the house and lay her on the bed. He sent the oldest boy scudding
down the corduroy for the nearest neighbor, and between them they
undressed Mrs. Duncan and discovered that she was not bitten.
They bathed and bound the bleeding wrist and coaxed her back
to consciousness. She lay sobbing and shuddering. The first
intelligent word she said was: "Freckles, look at that jar on the
kitchen table and see if my yeast is no running ower."
Several days passed before she could give Duncan and Freckles any
detailed account of what had happened to her, even then she could
not do it without crying as the least of her babies. Freckles was
almost heartbroken, and nursed her as well as any woman could have
done; while big Duncan, with a heart full for them both, worked
early and late to chink every crack of the cabin and examine every
spot that possibly could harbor a snake. The effects of her morning
on the trail kept her shivering half the time. She could not rest
until she sent for McLean and begged him to save Freckles from
further risk, in that place of horrors. The Boss went to the swamp
with his mind fully determined to do so.
Freckles stood and laughed at him. "Why, Mr. McLean, don't you
let a woman's nervoussystem set you worrying about me," he said.
"I'm not denying how she felt, because I've been through it meself,
but that's all over and gone. It's the height of me glory to fight it
out with the old swamp, and all that's in it, or will be coming to
it, and then to turn it over to you as I promised you and meself
I'd do, sir. You couldn't break the heart of me entire quicker than
to be taking it from me now, when I'm just on the home-stretch.
It won't be over three or four weeks yet, and when I've gone it
almost a year, why, what's that to me, sir? You mustn't let a
woman get mixed up with business, for I've always heard about how
it's bringing trouble."
McLean smiled. "What about that last tree?" he said.
Freckles blushed and grinned appreciatively.
"Angels and Bird Women don't count in the common run, sir," he
affirmed shamelessly.
McLean sat in the saddle and laughed.
CHAPTER X
Wherein Freckles Strives Mightily and the Swamp Angel Rewards Him
The Bird Woman and the Angel did not seem to count in the common
run, for they arrived on time for the third of the series and found
McLean on the line talking to Freckles. The Boss was filled with
enthusiasm over a marsh article of the Bird Woman's that he just
had read. He begged to be allowed to accompany her into the swamp
and watch the method by which she secured an illustration in such
a location.
The Bird Woman explained to him that it was an easy matter with the
subject she then had in hand; and as Little Chicken was too small
to be frightened by him, and big enough to be growing troublesome,
she was glad for his company. They went to the chicken log
together, leaving to the happy Freckles the care of the Angel, who
had brought her banjo and a roll of songs that she wanted to hear
him sing. The Bird Woman told them that they might practice in
Freckles' room until she finished with Little Chicken, and then she
and McLean would come to the concert.
It was almost three hours before they finished and came down the
west trail for their rest and lunch. McLean walked ahead, keeping
sharp watch on the trail and clearing it of fallen limbs from
overhanging trees. He sent a big piece of bark flying into the
swale, and then stopped short and stared at the trail.
The Bird Woman bent forward. Together they studied that imprint of
the Angel's foot. At last their eyes met, the Bird Woman's filled
with astonishment, and McLean's humid with pity. Neither said a
word, but they knew. McLean entered the swale and hunted up the bark.
He replaced it, and the Bird Woman carefully stepped over. As they
reached the bushes at the entrance, the voice of the Angel stopped
them, for it was commanding and filled with much impatience.
"Freckles James Ross McLean!" she was saying. "You fill me with
dark-blue despair! You're singing as if your voice were glass and
might break at any minute. Why don't you sing as you did a week ago?
Answer me that, please."
Freckles smiled confusedly at the Angel, who sat on one of his
fancy seats, playing his accompaniment on her banjo.
"You are a fraud," she said. "Here you went last week and led me to
think that there was the making of a great singer in you, and now
you are singing--do you know how badly you are singing?"
- horror [´hɔrə]
n.恐怖；战栗 (初中英语单词) - terror [´terə] n.恐怖；惊骇 (初中英语单词)
- suitable [´su:təbəl, ´sju:-] a.合适的，适当的 (初中英语单词)
- nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- fierce [fiəs] a.残忍的；强烈的 (初中英语单词)
- hastily [´heistili] ad.急速地；草率地 (初中英语单词)
- replace [ri´pleis] vt.放回；复置；取代 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- horrible [´hɔrəbəl] a.可怕的；恐怖的 (初中英语单词)
- missing [´misiŋ] a.缺掉的；失踪的 (初中英语单词)
- scream [skri:m] v.&n.尖叫(声) (初中英语单词)
- squirrel [´skwirəl] n.松鼠 (初中英语单词)
- thunder [´θʌndə] n.雷 vi.打雷 vt.吼出 (初中英语单词)
- interior [in´tiəriə] n.&a.内部地(的) (初中英语单词)
- shaken [´ʃeikən] shake的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- muscle [´mʌsəl] n.肌肉；体力；力量 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- winged [´wiŋd] a.有翼的 (初中英语单词)
- striking [´straikiŋ] a.显著的，明显的 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- system [´sistəm] n.系统，体系，制度 (初中英语单词)
- height [hait] n.高度；顶点；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- saddle [´sædl] n.鞍子 v.装鞍(于) (初中英语单词)
- series [´siəri:z] n.连续；系列；丛书 (初中英语单词)
- illustration [,ilə´streiʃən] n.插图，图解，例证 (初中英语单词)
- astonishment [ə´stɔniʃmənt] n.吃惊；惊异 (初中英语单词)
- singer [´siŋə] n.歌手，演唱者 (初中英语单词)
- location [ləu´keiʃən] n.定位；位置；地方 (高中英语单词)
- hurried [´hʌrid] a.仓促的，慌忙的 (高中英语单词)
- stillness [´stilnis] n.不动；无声，寂静 (高中英语单词)
- daytime [´deitaim] n.白天 (高中英语单词)
- rotten [´rɔtn] a.腐烂的；腐朽的 (高中英语单词)
- upright [´ʌprait] a.直立的 ad.直立地 (高中英语单词)
- near-by [´niə-bai] a.附近的 ad.在附近 (高中英语单词)
- angrily [´æŋgrili] ad.生气地；愤怒地 (高中英语单词)
- reaper [´ri:pə] n.收割者；收割机 (高中英语单词)
- temporary [´tempərəri] a.暂时的 n.临时工 (高中英语单词)
- tightly [´taitli] ad.紧，紧密地 (高中英语单词)
- consciousness [´kɔnʃəsnis] n.意识；觉悟；知觉 (高中英语单词)
- studied [´stʌdid] a.故意的；有计划的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- unbroken [ʌn´brəukən] a.未破的；不间断的 (英语四级单词)
- intensely [in´tensli] ad.激烈地；热切地 (英语四级单词)
- squarely [´skwɛəli] ad.成方形地；正直地 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- warning [´wɔ:niŋ] n.警告；前兆 a.预告的 (英语四级单词)
- fishing [´fiʃiŋ] n.钓鱼；捕鱼；渔业 (英语四级单词)
- muskrat [´mʌskræt] n.麝鼠 (英语四级单词)
- gathering [´gæðəriŋ] n.集会，聚集 (英语四级单词)
- clearing [´kliəriŋ] n.(森林中的)空旷地 (英语四级单词)
- accompaniment [ə´kʌmpənimənt] n.伴随物；伴奏(唱) (英语四级单词)
- narrowly [´nærəuli] ad.勉强地；严密地 (英语六级单词)
- hysterical [hi´sterikəl] a.歇斯底里的，癔病的 (英语六级单词)
- devoid [di´vɔid] a.无...的，缺...的 (英语六级单词)
- resolutely [´rezəlju:tli] ad.坚决地；果断地 (英语六级单词)
- frantically [´fræntikəli] ad.狂暴地，疯狂地 (英语六级单词)
- footing [´futiŋ] n.立脚点；基础；地位 (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
- belated [bi´leitid] a.延误的；遗留的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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