章节正文
and a far-away blue horizon. Here, at any rate, I could get early
news of my enemies.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Adventure of the Spectacled Roadman
I sat down on the very crest of the pass and took stock of my position.
Behind me was the road climbing through a long cleft in the
hills, which was the upper glen of some notable river. In front was
a flat space of maybe a mile, all pitted with bog-holes and rough
with tussocks, and then beyond it the road fell steeply down another
glen to a plain whose blue dimness melted into the distance. To left
and right were round-shouldered green hills as smooth as pancakes,
but to the south - that is, the left hand - there was a glimpse of
high heathery mountains, which I remembered from the map as the
big knot of hill which I had chosen for my sanctuary. I was on the
central boss of a huge upland country, and could see everything
moving for miles. In the meadows below the road half a mile back
a cottage smoked, but it was the only sign of human life. Otherwise
there was only the calling of plovers and the tinkling of little streams.
It was now about seven o'clock, and as I waited I heard once
again that ominous beat in the air. Then I realized that my vantage-
ground might be in reality a trap. There was no cover for a tomtit
in those bald green places.
I sat quite still and hopeless while the beat grew louder. Then I
saw an aeroplane coming up from the east. It was flying high, but
as I looked it dropped several hundred feet and began to circle
round the knot of hill in narrowing circles, just as a hawk wheels
before it pounces. Now it was flying very low, and now the observer
on board caught sight of me. I could see one of the two occupants
examining me through glasses.
Suddenly it began to rise in swift whorls, and the next I knew
it was speeding eastward again till it became a speck in the
blue morning.
That made me do some savage thinking. My enemies had located
me, and the next thing would be a cordon round me. I didn't know
what force they could command, but I was certain it would be
sufficient. The aeroplane had seen my bicycle, and would conclude
that I would try to escape by the road. In that case there might be a
chance on the moors to the right or left. I wheeled the machine a
hundred yards from the highway, and plunged it into a moss-hole,
where it sank among pond-weed and water-buttercups. Then I
climbed to a knoll which gave me a view of the two valleys.
Nothing was stirring on the long white ribbon that threaded them.
I have said there was not cover in the whole place to hide a rat.
As the day advanced it was flooded with soft fresh light till it had
the fragrant sunniness of the South African veld. At other times I
would have liked the place, but now it seemed to suffocate me. The
free moorlands were prison walls, and the keen hill air was the
breath of a dungeon.
I tossed a coin - heads right, tails left - and it fell heads, so I
turned to the north. In a little I came to the brow of the ridge
which was the containing wall of the pass. I saw the highroad for
maybe ten miles, and far down it something that was moving, and
that I took to be a motor-car. Beyond the ridge I looked on a
rolling green moor, which fell away into wooded glens.
Now my life on the veld has given me the eyes of a kite, and I
can see things for which most men need a telescope ... Away
down the slope, a couple of miles away, several men were advancing.
like a row of beaters at a shoot ...
I dropped out of sight behind the sky-line. That way was shut to
me, and I must try the bigger hills to the south beyond the highway.
The car I had noticed was getting nearer, but it was still a long way
off with some very steep gradients before it. I ran hard, crouching
low except in the hollows, and as I ran I kept scanning the brow of
the hill before me. Was it imagination, or did I see figures - one,
two, perhaps more - moving in a glen beyond the stream?
If you are hemmed in on all sides in a patch of land there is only
one chance of escape. You must stay in the patch, and let your
enemies search it and not find you. That was good sense, but how
on earth was I to escape notice in that table-cloth of a place? I
would have buried myself to the neck in mud or lain below water
or climbed the tallest tree. But there was not a stick of wood, the
bog-holes were little puddles, the stream was a slendertrickle. There
was nothing but short heather, and bare hill bent, and the white highway.
Then in a tiny bight of road, beside a heap of stones, I found
the roadman.
He had just arrived, and was wearily flinging down his hammer.
He looked at me with a fishy eye and yawned.
'Confoond the day I ever left the herdin'!' he said, as if to the
world at large. 'There I was my ain maister. Now I'm a slave to the
Goavernment, tethered to the roadside, wi' sair een, and a back like
a suckle.'
He took up the hammer, struck a stone, dropped the implement
with an oath, and put both hands to his ears. 'Mercy on me! My
heid's burstin'!' he cried.
He was a wild figure, about my own size but much bent, with a
week's beard on his chin, and a pair of big horn spectacles.
'I canna dae't,' he cried again. 'The Surveyor maun just report
me. I'm for my bed.'
I asked him what was the trouble, though indeed that was
clear enough.
'The trouble is that I'm no sober. Last nicht my dochter Merran
was waddit, and they danced till fower in the byre. Me and some
ither chiels sat down to the drinkin', and here I am. Peety that I
ever lookit on the wine when it was red!'
I agreed with him about bed.
'It's easy speakin',' he moaned. 'But I got a postcard yestreen
sayin' that the new Road Surveyor would be round the day. He'll
come and he'll no find me, or else he'll find me fou, and either way
I'm a done man. I'll awa' back to my bed and say I'm no weel, but
I doot that'll no help me, for they ken my kind o' no-weel-ness.'
Then I had an inspiration. 'Does the new Surveyor know you?'
I asked.
'No him. He's just been a week at the job. He rins about in a wee
motor-cawr, and wad speir the inside oot o' a whelk.'
'Where's your house?' I asked, and was directed by a wavering
finger to the cottage by the stream.
'Well, back to your bed,' I said, 'and sleep in peace. I'll take on
your job for a bit and see the Surveyor.'
He stared at me blankly; then, as the notion dawned on his
fuddled brain, his face broke into the vacant drunkard's smile.
'You're the billy,' he cried. 'It'll be easy eneuch managed. I've
finished that bing o' stanes, so you needna chap ony mair this
forenoon. just take the barry, and wheel eneuch metal frae yon
quarry doon the road to mak anither bing the morn. My name's
Alexander Turnbull, and I've been seeven year at the trade, and
twenty afore that herdin' on Leithen Water. My freens ca' me Ecky,
and whiles Specky, for I wear glesses, being waik i' the sicht. just
you speak the Surveyor fair, and ca' him Sir, and he'll be fell
pleased. I'll be back or mid-day.'
I borrowed his spectacles and filthy old hat; stripped off coat,
waistcoat, and collar, and gave him them to carry home; borrowed,
too, the foul stump of a clay pipe as an extra property. He indicated
my simple tasks, and without more ado set off at an amble bedwards.
Bed may have been his chief object, but I think there was
also something left in the foot of a bottle. I prayed that he might be
safe under cover before my friends arrived on the scene.
Then I set to work to dress for the part. I opened the collar of
my shirt - it was a vulgar blue-and-white check such as ploughmen
wear - and revealed a neck as brown as any tinker's. I rolled up my
sleeves, and there was a forearm which might have been a blacksmith's,
sunburnt and rough with old scars. I got my boots and
trouser-legs all white from the dust of the road, and hitched up my
trousers, tying them with string below the knee. Then I set to work
on my face. With a handful of dust I made a water-mark round my
neck, the place where Mr Turnbull's Sunday ablutions might be
expected to stop. I rubbed a good deal of dirt also into the sunburn
of my cheeks. A roadman's eyes would no doubt be a little inflamed,
so I contrived to get some dust in both of mine, and by dint of
vigorous rubbing produced a bleary effect.
The sandwiches Sir Harry had given me had gone off with my
coat, but the roadman's lunch, tied up in a red handkerchief, was at
my disposal. I ate with great relish several of the thick slabs of
scone and cheese and drank a little of the cold tea. In the handkerchief
was a local paper tied with string and addressed to Mr Turnbull -
obviously meant to solace his mid-day leisure. I did up the
bundle again, and put the paper conspicuously beside it.
My boots did not satisfy me, but by dint of kicking among the
stones I reduced them to the granite-like surface which marks a
roadman's foot-gear. Then I bit and scraped my finger-nails till the
edges were all cracked and uneven. The men I was matched against
would miss no detail. I broke one of the bootlaces and retied it in a
clumsy knot, and loosed the other so that my thick grey socks
bulged over the uppers. Still no sign of anything on the road. The
motor I had observed half an hour ago must have gone home.
My toilet complete, I took up the barrow and began my journeys
to and from the quarry a hundred yards off.
I remember an old scout in Rhodesia, who had done many queer
things in his day, once telling me that the secret of playing a part
was to think yourself into it. You could never keep it up, he said,
unless you could manage to convince yourself that you were it. So I
shut off all other thoughts and switched them on to the road-
mending. I thought of the little white cottage as my home, I
recalled the years I had spent herding on Leithen Water, I made my
mind dwell lovingly on sleep in a box-bed and a bottle of cheap
whisky. Still nothing appeared on that long white road.
Now and then a sheep wandered off the heather to stare at me. A
heron flopped down to a pool in the stream and started to fish,
taking no more notice of me than if I had been a milestone. On I
went, trundling my loads of stone, with the heavy step of the
professional. Soon I grew warm, and the dust on my face changed
into solid and abiding grit. I was already counting the hours till
evening should put a limit to Mr Turnbull's monotonous toil.
Suddenly a crisp voice spoke from the road, and looking up I
saw a little Ford two-seater, and a round-faced young man in a
bowler hat.
'Are you Alexander Turnbull?' he asked. 'I am the new County
Road Surveyor. You live at Blackhopefoot, and have charge of the
section from Laidlawbyres to the Riggs? Good! A fair bit of road,
Turnbull, and not badly engineered. A little soft about a mile off,
and the edges want cleaning. See you look after that. Good morning.
You'll know me the next time you see me.'
Clearly my get-up was good enough for the dreaded Surveyor. I
went on with my work, and as the morning grew towards noon I
was cheered by a little traffic. A baker's van breasted the hill, and
sold me a bag of ginger biscuits which I stowed in my trouser-
pockets against emergencies. Then a herd passed with sheep, and
disturbed me somewhat by asking loudly, 'What had become o' Specky?'
'In bed wi' the colic,' I replied, and the herd passed on ...
just about mid-day a big car stole down the hill, glided past and
drew up a hundred yards beyond. Its three occupants descended as
if to stretch their legs, and sauntered towards me.
Two of the men I had seen before from the window of the
Galloway inn - one lean, sharp, and dark, the other comfortable
and smiling. The third had the look of a countryman - a vet,
perhaps, or a small farmer. He was dressed in ill-cut knickerbockers,
and the eye in his head was as bright and wary as a hen's.
"Morning,' said the last. 'That's a fine easy job o' yours.'
I had not looked up on their approach, and now, when accosted,
I slowly and painfully straightened my back, after the manner of
roadmen; spat vigorously, after the manner of the low Scot; and
regarded them steadily before replying. I confronted three pairs of
news of my enemies.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Adventure of the Spectacled Roadman
I sat down on the very crest of the pass and took stock of my position.
Behind me was the road climbing through a long cleft in the
hills, which was the upper glen of some notable river. In front was
a flat space of maybe a mile, all pitted with bog-holes and rough
with tussocks, and then beyond it the road fell steeply down another
glen to a plain whose blue dimness melted into the distance. To left
and right were round-shouldered green hills as smooth as pancakes,
but to the south - that is, the left hand - there was a glimpse of
high heathery mountains, which I remembered from the map as the
big knot of hill which I had chosen for my sanctuary. I was on the
central boss of a huge upland country, and could see everything
moving for miles. In the meadows below the road half a mile back
a cottage smoked, but it was the only sign of human life. Otherwise
there was only the calling of plovers and the tinkling of little streams.
It was now about seven o'clock, and as I waited I heard once
again that ominous beat in the air. Then I realized that my vantage-
ground might be in reality a trap. There was no cover for a tomtit
in those bald green places.
I sat quite still and hopeless while the beat grew louder. Then I
saw an aeroplane coming up from the east. It was flying high, but
as I looked it dropped several hundred feet and began to circle
round the knot of hill in narrowing circles, just as a hawk wheels
before it pounces. Now it was flying very low, and now the observer
on board caught sight of me. I could see one of the two occupants
examining me through glasses.
Suddenly it began to rise in swift whorls, and the next I knew
it was speeding eastward again till it became a speck in the
blue morning.
That made me do some savage thinking. My enemies had located
me, and the next thing would be a cordon round me. I didn't know
what force they could command, but I was certain it would be
sufficient. The aeroplane had seen my bicycle, and would conclude
that I would try to escape by the road. In that case there might be a
chance on the moors to the right or left. I wheeled the machine a
hundred yards from the highway, and plunged it into a moss-hole,
where it sank among pond-weed and water-buttercups. Then I
climbed to a knoll which gave me a view of the two valleys.
Nothing was stirring on the long white ribbon that threaded them.
I have said there was not cover in the whole place to hide a rat.
As the day advanced it was flooded with soft fresh light till it had
the fragrant sunniness of the South African veld. At other times I
would have liked the place, but now it seemed to suffocate me. The
free moorlands were prison walls, and the keen hill air was the
breath of a dungeon.
I tossed a coin - heads right, tails left - and it fell heads, so I
turned to the north. In a little I came to the brow of the ridge
which was the containing wall of the pass. I saw the highroad for
maybe ten miles, and far down it something that was moving, and
that I took to be a motor-car. Beyond the ridge I looked on a
rolling green moor, which fell away into wooded glens.
Now my life on the veld has given me the eyes of a kite, and I
can see things for which most men need a telescope ... Away
down the slope, a couple of miles away, several men were advancing.
like a row of beaters at a shoot ...
I dropped out of sight behind the sky-line. That way was shut to
me, and I must try the bigger hills to the south beyond the highway.
The car I had noticed was getting nearer, but it was still a long way
off with some very steep gradients before it. I ran hard, crouching
low except in the hollows, and as I ran I kept scanning the brow of
the hill before me. Was it imagination, or did I see figures - one,
two, perhaps more - moving in a glen beyond the stream?
If you are hemmed in on all sides in a patch of land there is only
one chance of escape. You must stay in the patch, and let your
enemies search it and not find you. That was good sense, but how
on earth was I to escape notice in that table-cloth of a place? I
would have buried myself to the neck in mud or lain below water
or climbed the tallest tree. But there was not a stick of wood, the
bog-holes were little puddles, the stream was a slendertrickle. There
was nothing but short heather, and bare hill bent, and the white highway.
Then in a tiny bight of road, beside a heap of stones, I found
the roadman.
He had just arrived, and was wearily flinging down his hammer.
He looked at me with a fishy eye and yawned.
'Confoond the day I ever left the herdin'!' he said, as if to the
world at large. 'There I was my ain maister. Now I'm a slave to the
Goavernment, tethered to the roadside, wi' sair een, and a back like
a suckle.'
He took up the hammer, struck a stone, dropped the implement
with an oath, and put both hands to his ears. 'Mercy on me! My
heid's burstin'!' he cried.
He was a wild figure, about my own size but much bent, with a
week's beard on his chin, and a pair of big horn spectacles.
'I canna dae't,' he cried again. 'The Surveyor maun just report
me. I'm for my bed.'
I asked him what was the trouble, though indeed that was
clear enough.
'The trouble is that I'm no sober. Last nicht my dochter Merran
was waddit, and they danced till fower in the byre. Me and some
ither chiels sat down to the drinkin', and here I am. Peety that I
ever lookit on the wine when it was red!'
I agreed with him about bed.
'It's easy speakin',' he moaned. 'But I got a postcard yestreen
sayin' that the new Road Surveyor would be round the day. He'll
come and he'll no find me, or else he'll find me fou, and either way
I'm a done man. I'll awa' back to my bed and say I'm no weel, but
I doot that'll no help me, for they ken my kind o' no-weel-ness.'
Then I had an inspiration. 'Does the new Surveyor know you?'
I asked.
'No him. He's just been a week at the job. He rins about in a wee
motor-cawr, and wad speir the inside oot o' a whelk.'
'Where's your house?' I asked, and was directed by a wavering
finger to the cottage by the stream.
'Well, back to your bed,' I said, 'and sleep in peace. I'll take on
your job for a bit and see the Surveyor.'
He stared at me blankly; then, as the notion dawned on his
fuddled brain, his face broke into the vacant drunkard's smile.
'You're the billy,' he cried. 'It'll be easy eneuch managed. I've
finished that bing o' stanes, so you needna chap ony mair this
forenoon. just take the barry, and wheel eneuch metal frae yon
quarry doon the road to mak anither bing the morn. My name's
Alexander Turnbull, and I've been seeven year at the trade, and
twenty afore that herdin' on Leithen Water. My freens ca' me Ecky,
and whiles Specky, for I wear glesses, being waik i' the sicht. just
you speak the Surveyor fair, and ca' him Sir, and he'll be fell
pleased. I'll be back or mid-day.'
I borrowed his spectacles and filthy old hat; stripped off coat,
waistcoat, and collar, and gave him them to carry home; borrowed,
too, the foul stump of a clay pipe as an extra property. He indicated
my simple tasks, and without more ado set off at an amble bedwards.
Bed may have been his chief object, but I think there was
also something left in the foot of a bottle. I prayed that he might be
safe under cover before my friends arrived on the scene.
Then I set to work to dress for the part. I opened the collar of
my shirt - it was a vulgar blue-and-white check such as ploughmen
wear - and revealed a neck as brown as any tinker's. I rolled up my
sleeves, and there was a forearm which might have been a blacksmith's,
sunburnt and rough with old scars. I got my boots and
trouser-legs all white from the dust of the road, and hitched up my
trousers, tying them with string below the knee. Then I set to work
on my face. With a handful of dust I made a water-mark round my
neck, the place where Mr Turnbull's Sunday ablutions might be
expected to stop. I rubbed a good deal of dirt also into the sunburn
of my cheeks. A roadman's eyes would no doubt be a little inflamed,
so I contrived to get some dust in both of mine, and by dint of
vigorous rubbing produced a bleary effect.
The sandwiches Sir Harry had given me had gone off with my
coat, but the roadman's lunch, tied up in a red handkerchief, was at
my disposal. I ate with great relish several of the thick slabs of
scone and cheese and drank a little of the cold tea. In the handkerchief
was a local paper tied with string and addressed to Mr Turnbull -
obviously meant to solace his mid-day leisure. I did up the
bundle again, and put the paper conspicuously beside it.
My boots did not satisfy me, but by dint of kicking among the
stones I reduced them to the granite-like surface which marks a
roadman's foot-gear. Then I bit and scraped my finger-nails till the
edges were all cracked and uneven. The men I was matched against
would miss no detail. I broke one of the bootlaces and retied it in a
clumsy knot, and loosed the other so that my thick grey socks
bulged over the uppers. Still no sign of anything on the road. The
motor I had observed half an hour ago must have gone home.
My toilet complete, I took up the barrow and began my journeys
to and from the quarry a hundred yards off.
I remember an old scout in Rhodesia, who had done many queer
things in his day, once telling me that the secret of playing a part
was to think yourself into it. You could never keep it up, he said,
unless you could manage to convince yourself that you were it. So I
shut off all other thoughts and switched them on to the road-
mending. I thought of the little white cottage as my home, I
recalled the years I had spent herding on Leithen Water, I made my
mind dwell lovingly on sleep in a box-bed and a bottle of cheap
whisky. Still nothing appeared on that long white road.
Now and then a sheep wandered off the heather to stare at me. A
heron flopped down to a pool in the stream and started to fish,
taking no more notice of me than if I had been a milestone. On I
went, trundling my loads of stone, with the heavy step of the
professional. Soon I grew warm, and the dust on my face changed
into solid and abiding grit. I was already counting the hours till
evening should put a limit to Mr Turnbull's monotonous toil.
Suddenly a crisp voice spoke from the road, and looking up I
saw a little Ford two-seater, and a round-faced young man in a
bowler hat.
'Are you Alexander Turnbull?' he asked. 'I am the new County
Road Surveyor. You live at Blackhopefoot, and have charge of the
section from Laidlawbyres to the Riggs? Good! A fair bit of road,
Turnbull, and not badly engineered. A little soft about a mile off,
and the edges want cleaning. See you look after that. Good morning.
You'll know me the next time you see me.'
Clearly my get-up was good enough for the dreaded Surveyor. I
went on with my work, and as the morning grew towards noon I
was cheered by a little traffic. A baker's van breasted the hill, and
sold me a bag of ginger biscuits which I stowed in my trouser-
pockets against emergencies. Then a herd passed with sheep, and
disturbed me somewhat by asking loudly, 'What had become o' Specky?'
'In bed wi' the colic,' I replied, and the herd passed on ...
just about mid-day a big car stole down the hill, glided past and
drew up a hundred yards beyond. Its three occupants descended as
if to stretch their legs, and sauntered towards me.
Two of the men I had seen before from the window of the
Galloway inn - one lean, sharp, and dark, the other comfortable
and smiling. The third had the look of a countryman - a vet,
perhaps, or a small farmer. He was dressed in ill-cut knickerbockers,
and the eye in his head was as bright and wary as a hen's.
"Morning,' said the last. 'That's a fine easy job o' yours.'
I had not looked up on their approach, and now, when accosted,
I slowly and painfully straightened my back, after the manner of
roadmen; spat vigorously, after the manner of the low Scot; and
regarded them steadily before replying. I confronted three pairs of
- horizon [hə´raizən]
n.地平线；范围；视野 (初中英语单词) - spectacled [´spektəkəld] a.戴眼镜的 (初中英语单词)
- glimpse [glimps] n.&v.瞥见 (初中英语单词)
- cottage [´kɔtidʒ] n.村舍；小屋；小别墅 (初中英语单词)
- reality [ri´æliti] n.现实(性)；真实；逼真 (初中英语单词)
- savage [´sævidʒ] a.野蛮的 n.蛮人 (初中英语单词)
- highway [´haiwei] n.公路，大道 (初中英语单词)
- ribbon [´ribən] n.缎带；带子；色带 (初中英语单词)
- advanced [əd´vɑ:nst] a.先进的；高级的 (初中英语单词)
- imagination [i,mædʒi´neiʃən] n.想象(力) (初中英语单词)
- stream [stri:m] n.河 vi.流出；飘扬 (初中英语单词)
- slender [´slendə] a.细长的；微薄的 (初中英语单词)
- hammer [´hæmə] n.锤子 v.重击 (初中英语单词)
- vacant [´veikənt] a.空虚的，无表情的 (初中英语单词)
- collar [´kɔlə] n.衣领；(狗等的)项圈 (初中英语单词)
- handkerchief [´hæŋkətʃif] n.手帕，手绢 (初中英语单词)
- cheese [tʃi:z] n.干酪，乳酪 (初中英语单词)
- convince [kən´vins] vt.使确信；使认识错误 (初中英语单词)
- charge [tʃɑ:dʒ] v.收费；冲锋 n.费用 (初中英语单词)
- traffic [´træfik] n.交通，运输 (初中英语单词)
- steadily [´stedili] ad.坚定地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- notable [´nəutəbəl] a.显著的 n.名人 (高中英语单词)
- hopeless [´həupləs] a.无望的，无可救药的 (高中英语单词)
- aeroplane [´eərəplein] n.飞机 (高中英语单词)
- bicycle [´baisik(ə)l] n.自行车 (高中英语单词)
- fragrant [´freigrənt] a.芳香的，芬芳的 (高中英语单词)
- telescope [´teliskəup] n.望远镜 (高中英语单词)
- inspiration [,inspi´reiʃən] n.鼓舞；灵感；启发 (高中英语单词)
- handful [hændful] n.一把，少数，一小撮 (高中英语单词)
- disposal [di´spəuzəl] n.处理；支配 (高中英语单词)
- relish [´reliʃ] n.滋味；风味 v.品尝 (高中英语单词)
- leisure [´leʒə] n.空闲；悠闲；安定 (高中英语单词)
- toilet [´tɔilit] n.梳妆(台)；卫生间 (高中英语单词)
- quarry [´kwɔri] n.(采)石场；猎物 (高中英语单词)
- ginger [´dʒindʒə] n.姜；精神，元气 (高中英语单词)
- countryman [´kʌntrimən] n.同胞(乡)，乡下人 (高中英语单词)
- sanctuary [´sæŋktʃuəri] n.圣殿；寺院；避难所 (英语四级单词)
- ominous [´ɔminəs] a.不祥的；预示的 (英语四级单词)
- eastward [´i:stwəd] a.&ad.向东(的) (英语四级单词)
- stirring [´stə:riŋ] a.活跃的；热闹的 (英语四级单词)
- wooded [´wudid] a.多树林的 (英语四级单词)
- trickle [´trikəl] v.滴下 n.点滴；细流 (英语四级单词)
- wearily [´wiərili] ad.疲倦地；厌烦地 (英语四级单词)
- roadside [´rəudsaid] n.&a.路边(的) (英语四级单词)
- filthy [´filθi] a.污秽的，肮脏的 (英语四级单词)
- vulgar [´vʌlgə] a.粗俗的；大众的 (英语四级单词)
- uneven [ʌn´i:vən] a.崎岖的；不匀的 (英语四级单词)
- monotonous [mə´nɔtənəs] a.单(音)调的 (英语四级单词)
- painfully [´peinfuli] ad.痛苦地；费力地 (英语四级单词)
- vigorously [´vigərəsli] ad.精力旺盛地；健壮地 (英语四级单词)
- upland [´ʌplənd] n.高地；山地 (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
- suffocate [´sʌfəkeit] v.使窒息，闷死 (英语六级单词)
- heather [´heðə] n.石南属植物 (英语六级单词)
- solace [´sɔləs] n.&vt.安慰(物)；缓和 (英语六级单词)
- cracked [krækt] a.有裂缝的；碎的；粗哑 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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