章节正文
Duane experienced a sort of pleasure in the realization that
interest had been stirred in him. He was curious about Bland
and his gang, and glad to have something to think about. For
every once in a while he had a sensation that was almost like a
pang. He wanted to forget. In the next hour he did forget, and
enjoyed helping in the preparation and eating of the meal.
Euchre, after washing and hanging up the several utensils, put
on his hat and turned to go out.
"Come along or stay here, as you want," he said to Duane.
"I'll stay," rejoined Duane, slowly.
The old outlaw left the room and trudged away, whistling
cheerfully.
Duane looked around him for a book or paper, anything to read;
but all the printed matter he could find consisted of a few
words on cartridge-boxes and an advertisement on the back of a
tobacco-pouch. There seemed to be nothing for him to do. He had
rested; he did not want to lie down any more. He began to walk
to and fro, from one end of the room to the other. And as he
walked he fell into the lately acquired habit of brooding over
his misfortune.
Suddenly he straightened up with a jerk. Unconsciously he had
drawn his gun. Standing there with the bright cold weapon in
his hand, he looked at it in consternation. How had he come to
draw it? With difficulty he traced his thoughts backward, but
could not find any that was accountable for his act. He
discovered, however, that he had a remarkabletendency to drop
his hand to his gun. That might have come from the habit long
practice in drawing had given him. Likewise, it might have come
from a subtle sense, scarcely thought of at all, of the late,
close, and inevitable relation between that weapon and himself.
He was amazed to find that, bitter as he had grown at fate, the
desire to live burned strong in him. If he had been as
unfortunately situated, but with the difference that no man
wanted to put him in jail or take his life, he felt that this
burning passion to be free, to save himself, might not have
been so powerful. Life certainly held no bright prospects for
him. Already he had begun to despair of ever getting back to
his home. But to give up like a white-hearted coward, to let
himself be handcuffed and jailed, to run from a drunken,
bragging cowboy, or be shot in cold blood by some border brute
who merely wanted to add another notch to his gun--these things
were impossible for Duane because there was in him the temper
to fight. In that hour he yielded only to fate and the spirit
inborn in him. Hereafter this gun must be a living part of him.
Right then and there he returned to a practice he had long
discontinued--the draw. It was now a stern, bitter, deadly
business with him. He did not need to fire the gun, for
accuracy was a gift and had become assured. Swiftness on the
draw, however, could be improved, and he set himself to acquire
the limit of speed possible to any man. He stood still in his
tracks; he paced the room; he sat down, lay down, put himself
in awkward positions; and from every position he practiced
throwing his gun--practiced it till he was hot and tired and
his arm ached and his hand burned. That practice he determined
to keep up every day. It was one thing, at least, that would
help pass the weary hours.
Later he went outdoors to the cooler shade of the cottonwoods.
From this point he could see a good deal of the valley. Under
different circumstances Duane felt that he would have enjoyed
such a beautiful spot. Euchre's shack sat against the first
rise of the slope of the wall, and Duane, by climbing a few
rods, got a view of the whole valley. Assuredly it was an
outlaw settle meet. He saw a good many Mexicans, who, of
course, were hand and glove with Bland. Also he saw enormous
flat-boats, crude of structure, moored along the banks of the
river. The Rio Grande rolled away between high bluffs. A cable,
sagging deep in the middle, was stretched over the wide yellow
stream, and an old scow, evidently used as a ferry, lay
anchored on the far shore.
The valley was an ideal retreat for an outlaw band operating on
a big scale. Pursuit scarcely need be feared over the broken
trails of the Rim Rock. And the open end of the valley could be
defended against almost any number of men coming down the
river. Access to Mexico was easy and quick. What puzzled Duane
was how Bland got cattle down to the river, and he wondered if
the rustler really did get rid of his stolen stock by use of
boats.
Duane must have idled considerable time up on the hill, for
when he returned to the shack Euchre was busily engaged around
the camp-fire.
"Wal, glad to see you ain't so pale about the gills as you
was," he said, by way of greeting. "Pitch in an' we'll soon
have grub ready. There's shore one consolin' fact round this
here camp."
"What's that?" asked Duane.
"Plenty of good juicy beef to eat. An' it doesn't cost a short
bit."
"But it costs hard rides and trouble, bad conscience, and life,
too, doesn't it?"
"I ain't shore about the bad conscience. Mine never bothered me
none. An' as for life, why, thet's cheap in Texas."
"Who is Bland?" asked Duane, quickly changing the subject.
"What do you know about him?"
"We don't know who he is or where he hails from," replied
Euchre. "Thet's always been somethin' to interest the gang. He
must have been a young man when he struck Texas. Now he's
middle-aged. I remember how years ago he was soft-spoken an'
not rough in talk or act like he is now. Bland ain't likely his
right name. He knows a lot. He can doctor you, an' he's shore a
knowin' feller with tools. He's the kind thet rules men.
Outlaws are always ridin' in here to join his gang, an' if it
hadn't been fer the gamblin' an' gun-play he'd have a thousand
men around him."
"How many in his gang now?"
"I reckon there's short of a hundred now. The number varies.
Then Bland has several small camps up an' down the river. Also
he has men back on the cattle-ranges."
"How does he control such a big force?" asked Duane.
"Especially when his band's composed of bad men. Luke Stevens
said he had no use for Bland. And I heard once somewhere that
Bland was a devil."
"Thet's it. He is a devil. He's as hard as flint, violent in
temper, never made any friends except his right-hand men, Dave
Rugg an' Chess Alloway. Bland'll shoot at a wink. He's killed a
lot of fellers, an' some fer nothin'. The reason thet outlaws
gather round him an' stick is because he's a safe refuge, an'
then he's well heeled. Bland is rich. They say he has a hundred
thousand pesos hid somewhere, an' lots of gold. But he's free
with money. He gambles when he's not off with a shipment of
cattle. He throws money around. An' the fact is there's always
plenty of money where he is. Thet's what holds the gang. Dirty,
bloody money!"
"It's a wonder he hasn't been killed. All these years on the
border!" exclaimed Duane.
"Wal," replied Euchre, dryly, "he's been quicker on the draw
than the other fellers who hankered to kill him, thet's all."
Euchre's reply rather chilled Duane's interest for the moment.
Such remarks always made his mind revolve round facts
pertaining to himself.
"Speakin' of this here swift wrist game," went on Euchre,
"there's been considerable talk in camp about your throwin' of
a gun. You know, Buck, thet among us fellers--us hunted
men--there ain't anythin' calculated to rouse respect like a
slick hand with a gun. I heard Bland say this afternoon--an' he
said it serious-like an' speculative--thet he'd never seen your
equal. He was watchin' of you close, he said, an' just couldn't
follow your hand when you drawed. All the fellers who seen you
meet Bosomer had somethin' to say. Bo was about as handy with a
gun as any man in this camp, barrin' Chess Alloway an' mebbe
Bland himself. Chess is the captain with a Colt--or he was. An'
he shore didn't like the references made about your speed.
Bland was honest in acknowledgin' it, but he didn't like it,
neither. Some of the fellers allowed your draw might have been
just accident. But most of them figgered different. An' they
all shut up when Bland told who an' what your Dad was. 'Pears
to me I once seen your Dad in a gunscrape over at Santone,
years ago. Wal, I put my oar in to-day among the fellers, an' I
says: 'What ails you locoed gents? Did young Duane budge an
inch when Bo came roarin' out, blood in his eye? Wasn't he cool
an' quiet, steady of lips, an' weren't his eyes readin' Bo's
mind? An' thet lightnin' draw--can't you-all see thet's a
family gift?' "
Euchre's narrow eyes twinkled, and he gave the dough he was
rolling a slap with his flour-whitened hand. Manifestly he had
proclaimed himself a champion and partner of Duane's, with all
the pride an old man could feel in a young one whom he admired.
"Wal," he resumed, presently, "thet's your introduction to the
border, Buck. An' your card was a high trump. You'll be let
severely alone by real gun-fighters an' men like Bland,
Alloway, Rugg, an' the bosses of the other gangs. After all,
these real men are men, you know, an' onless you cross them
they're no more likely to interfere with you than you are with
them. But there's a sight of fellers like Bosomer in the river
country. They'll all want your game. An' every town you ride
into will scare up some cowpuncher full of booze or a
long-haired four-flush gunman or a sheriff--an' these men will
be playin' to the crowd an' yellin' for your blood. Thet's the
Texas of it. You'll have to hide fer ever in the brakes or
you'll have to KILL such men. Buck, I reckon this ain't
cheerful news to a decent chap like you. I'm only tellin' you
because I've taken a likin' to you, an' I seen right off thet
you ain't border-wise. Let's eat now, an' afterward we'll go
out so the gang can see you're not hidin'."
When Duane went out with Euchre the sun was setting behind a
blue range of mountains across the river in Mexico. The valley
appeared to open to the southwest. It was a tranquil, beautiful
scene. Somewhere in a house near at hand a woman was singing.
And in the road Duane saw a little Mexican boy driving home
some cows, one of which wore a bell. The sweet, happy voice of
a woman and a whistling barefoot boy--these seemed utterly out
of place here.
Euchre presently led to the square and the row of rough houses
Duane remembered. He almost stepped on a wide imprint in the
dust where Bosomer had confronted him. And a sudden fury beset
him that he should be affectedstrangely by the sight of it.
"Let's have a look in here," said Euchre.
Duane had to bend his head to enter the door. He found himself
in a very large room inclosed by adobe walls and roofed with
brush. It was full of rude benches, tables, seats. At one
corner a number of kegs and barrels lay side by side in a rack.
A Mexican boy was lighting lamps hung on posts that sustained
the log rafters of the roof.
"The only feller who's goin' to put a close eye on you is
Benson," said Euchre. "He runs the place an' sells drinks. The
gang calls him Jackrabbit Benson, because he's always got his
eye peeled an' his ear cocked. Don't notice him if he looks you
over, Buck. Benson is scared to death of every new-comer who
rustles into Bland's camp. An' the reason, I take it, is
because he's done somebody dirt. He's hidin'. Not from a
sheriff or ranger! Men who hide from them don't act like
Jackrabbit Benson. He's hidin' from some guy who's huntin' him
interest had been stirred in him. He was curious about Bland
and his gang, and glad to have something to think about. For
every once in a while he had a sensation that was almost like a
pang. He wanted to forget. In the next hour he did forget, and
enjoyed helping in the preparation and eating of the meal.
Euchre, after washing and hanging up the several utensils, put
on his hat and turned to go out.
"Come along or stay here, as you want," he said to Duane.
"I'll stay," rejoined Duane, slowly.
The old outlaw left the room and trudged away, whistling
cheerfully.
Duane looked around him for a book or paper, anything to read;
but all the printed matter he could find consisted of a few
words on cartridge-boxes and an advertisement on the back of a
tobacco-pouch. There seemed to be nothing for him to do. He had
rested; he did not want to lie down any more. He began to walk
to and fro, from one end of the room to the other. And as he
walked he fell into the lately acquired habit of brooding over
his misfortune.
Suddenly he straightened up with a jerk. Unconsciously he had
drawn his gun. Standing there with the bright cold weapon in
his hand, he looked at it in consternation. How had he come to
draw it? With difficulty he traced his thoughts backward, but
could not find any that was accountable for his act. He
discovered, however, that he had a remarkabletendency to drop
his hand to his gun. That might have come from the habit long
practice in drawing had given him. Likewise, it might have come
from a subtle sense, scarcely thought of at all, of the late,
close, and inevitable relation between that weapon and himself.
He was amazed to find that, bitter as he had grown at fate, the
desire to live burned strong in him. If he had been as
unfortunately situated, but with the difference that no man
wanted to put him in jail or take his life, he felt that this
burning passion to be free, to save himself, might not have
been so powerful. Life certainly held no bright prospects for
him. Already he had begun to despair of ever getting back to
his home. But to give up like a white-hearted coward, to let
himself be handcuffed and jailed, to run from a drunken,
bragging cowboy, or be shot in cold blood by some border brute
who merely wanted to add another notch to his gun--these things
were impossible for Duane because there was in him the temper
to fight. In that hour he yielded only to fate and the spirit
inborn in him. Hereafter this gun must be a living part of him.
Right then and there he returned to a practice he had long
discontinued--the draw. It was now a stern, bitter, deadly
business with him. He did not need to fire the gun, for
accuracy was a gift and had become assured. Swiftness on the
draw, however, could be improved, and he set himself to acquire
the limit of speed possible to any man. He stood still in his
tracks; he paced the room; he sat down, lay down, put himself
in awkward positions; and from every position he practiced
throwing his gun--practiced it till he was hot and tired and
his arm ached and his hand burned. That practice he determined
to keep up every day. It was one thing, at least, that would
help pass the weary hours.
Later he went outdoors to the cooler shade of the cottonwoods.
From this point he could see a good deal of the valley. Under
different circumstances Duane felt that he would have enjoyed
such a beautiful spot. Euchre's shack sat against the first
rise of the slope of the wall, and Duane, by climbing a few
rods, got a view of the whole valley. Assuredly it was an
outlaw settle meet. He saw a good many Mexicans, who, of
course, were hand and glove with Bland. Also he saw enormous
flat-boats, crude of structure, moored along the banks of the
river. The Rio Grande rolled away between high bluffs. A cable,
sagging deep in the middle, was stretched over the wide yellow
stream, and an old scow, evidently used as a ferry, lay
anchored on the far shore.
The valley was an ideal retreat for an outlaw band operating on
a big scale. Pursuit scarcely need be feared over the broken
trails of the Rim Rock. And the open end of the valley could be
defended against almost any number of men coming down the
river. Access to Mexico was easy and quick. What puzzled Duane
was how Bland got cattle down to the river, and he wondered if
the rustler really did get rid of his stolen stock by use of
boats.
Duane must have idled considerable time up on the hill, for
when he returned to the shack Euchre was busily engaged around
the camp-fire.
"Wal, glad to see you ain't so pale about the gills as you
was," he said, by way of greeting. "Pitch in an' we'll soon
have grub ready. There's shore one consolin' fact round this
here camp."
"What's that?" asked Duane.
"Plenty of good juicy beef to eat. An' it doesn't cost a short
bit."
"But it costs hard rides and trouble, bad conscience, and life,
too, doesn't it?"
"I ain't shore about the bad conscience. Mine never bothered me
none. An' as for life, why, thet's cheap in Texas."
"Who is Bland?" asked Duane, quickly changing the subject.
"What do you know about him?"
"We don't know who he is or where he hails from," replied
Euchre. "Thet's always been somethin' to interest the gang. He
must have been a young man when he struck Texas. Now he's
middle-aged. I remember how years ago he was soft-spoken an'
not rough in talk or act like he is now. Bland ain't likely his
right name. He knows a lot. He can doctor you, an' he's shore a
knowin' feller with tools. He's the kind thet rules men.
Outlaws are always ridin' in here to join his gang, an' if it
hadn't been fer the gamblin' an' gun-play he'd have a thousand
men around him."
"How many in his gang now?"
"I reckon there's short of a hundred now. The number varies.
Then Bland has several small camps up an' down the river. Also
he has men back on the cattle-ranges."
"How does he control such a big force?" asked Duane.
"Especially when his band's composed of bad men. Luke Stevens
said he had no use for Bland. And I heard once somewhere that
Bland was a devil."
"Thet's it. He is a devil. He's as hard as flint, violent in
temper, never made any friends except his right-hand men, Dave
Rugg an' Chess Alloway. Bland'll shoot at a wink. He's killed a
lot of fellers, an' some fer nothin'. The reason thet outlaws
gather round him an' stick is because he's a safe refuge, an'
then he's well heeled. Bland is rich. They say he has a hundred
thousand pesos hid somewhere, an' lots of gold. But he's free
with money. He gambles when he's not off with a shipment of
cattle. He throws money around. An' the fact is there's always
plenty of money where he is. Thet's what holds the gang. Dirty,
bloody money!"
"It's a wonder he hasn't been killed. All these years on the
border!" exclaimed Duane.
"Wal," replied Euchre, dryly, "he's been quicker on the draw
than the other fellers who hankered to kill him, thet's all."
Euchre's reply rather chilled Duane's interest for the moment.
Such remarks always made his mind revolve round facts
pertaining to himself.
"Speakin' of this here swift wrist game," went on Euchre,
"there's been considerable talk in camp about your throwin' of
a gun. You know, Buck, thet among us fellers--us hunted
men--there ain't anythin' calculated to rouse respect like a
slick hand with a gun. I heard Bland say this afternoon--an' he
said it serious-like an' speculative--thet he'd never seen your
equal. He was watchin' of you close, he said, an' just couldn't
follow your hand when you drawed. All the fellers who seen you
meet Bosomer had somethin' to say. Bo was about as handy with a
gun as any man in this camp, barrin' Chess Alloway an' mebbe
Bland himself. Chess is the captain with a Colt--or he was. An'
he shore didn't like the references made about your speed.
Bland was honest in acknowledgin' it, but he didn't like it,
neither. Some of the fellers allowed your draw might have been
just accident. But most of them figgered different. An' they
all shut up when Bland told who an' what your Dad was. 'Pears
to me I once seen your Dad in a gunscrape over at Santone,
years ago. Wal, I put my oar in to-day among the fellers, an' I
says: 'What ails you locoed gents? Did young Duane budge an
inch when Bo came roarin' out, blood in his eye? Wasn't he cool
an' quiet, steady of lips, an' weren't his eyes readin' Bo's
mind? An' thet lightnin' draw--can't you-all see thet's a
family gift?' "
Euchre's narrow eyes twinkled, and he gave the dough he was
rolling a slap with his flour-whitened hand. Manifestly he had
proclaimed himself a champion and partner of Duane's, with all
the pride an old man could feel in a young one whom he admired.
"Wal," he resumed, presently, "thet's your introduction to the
border, Buck. An' your card was a high trump. You'll be let
severely alone by real gun-fighters an' men like Bland,
Alloway, Rugg, an' the bosses of the other gangs. After all,
these real men are men, you know, an' onless you cross them
they're no more likely to interfere with you than you are with
them. But there's a sight of fellers like Bosomer in the river
country. They'll all want your game. An' every town you ride
into will scare up some cowpuncher full of booze or a
long-haired four-flush gunman or a sheriff--an' these men will
be playin' to the crowd an' yellin' for your blood. Thet's the
Texas of it. You'll have to hide fer ever in the brakes or
you'll have to KILL such men. Buck, I reckon this ain't
cheerful news to a decent chap like you. I'm only tellin' you
because I've taken a likin' to you, an' I seen right off thet
you ain't border-wise. Let's eat now, an' afterward we'll go
out so the gang can see you're not hidin'."
When Duane went out with Euchre the sun was setting behind a
blue range of mountains across the river in Mexico. The valley
appeared to open to the southwest. It was a tranquil, beautiful
scene. Somewhere in a house near at hand a woman was singing.
And in the road Duane saw a little Mexican boy driving home
some cows, one of which wore a bell. The sweet, happy voice of
a woman and a whistling barefoot boy--these seemed utterly out
of place here.
Euchre presently led to the square and the row of rough houses
Duane remembered. He almost stepped on a wide imprint in the
dust where Bosomer had confronted him. And a sudden fury beset
him that he should be affectedstrangely by the sight of it.
"Let's have a look in here," said Euchre.
Duane had to bend his head to enter the door. He found himself
in a very large room inclosed by adobe walls and roofed with
brush. It was full of rude benches, tables, seats. At one
corner a number of kegs and barrels lay side by side in a rack.
A Mexican boy was lighting lamps hung on posts that sustained
the log rafters of the roof.
"The only feller who's goin' to put a close eye on you is
Benson," said Euchre. "He runs the place an' sells drinks. The
gang calls him Jackrabbit Benson, because he's always got his
eye peeled an' his ear cocked. Don't notice him if he looks you
over, Buck. Benson is scared to death of every new-comer who
rustles into Bland's camp. An' the reason, I take it, is
because he's done somebody dirt. He's hidin'. Not from a
sheriff or ranger! Men who hide from them don't act like
Jackrabbit Benson. He's hidin' from some guy who's huntin' him
- realization [,riəlai´zeiʃən]
n.实现；认识 (初中英语单词) - sensation [sen´seiʃən] n.感觉；轰动；轰动一时 (初中英语单词)
- preparation [,prepə´reiʃən] n.准备；预习(时间) (初中英语单词)
- lately [´leitli] ad.近来，不久前 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- weapon [´wepən] n.武器；斗争手段 (初中英语单词)
- backward [´bækwəd] ad.向后 a.向后的 (初中英语单词)
- remarkable [ri´mɑ:kəbl] a.值得注意的；显著的 (初中英语单词)
- tendency [´tendənsi] n.趋势；倾向 (初中英语单词)
- likewise [´laikwaiz] ad.同样地；也，又 (初中英语单词)
- situated [´sitʃueitid] a.位于；处于....境地 (初中英语单词)
- passion [´pæʃən] n.激情；激怒；恋爱 (初中英语单词)
- despair [di´speə] vi.&n.绝望 (初中英语单词)
- coward [´kauəd] n.胆怯者 a.胆小的 (初中英语单词)
- valley [´væli] n.谷；河谷；流域 (初中英语单词)
- structure [´strʌktʃə] n.结构，构造；组织 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- retreat [ri´tri:t] v.&n.退却；撤退；放弃 (初中英语单词)
- pursuit [pə´sju:t] n.追踪；追击；事务 (初中英语单词)
- mexico [´meksikəu] n.墨西哥 (初中英语单词)
- stolen [´stəulən] steal 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- considerable [kən´sidərəbəl] a.重要的；值得重视 (初中英语单词)
- conscience [´kɔnʃəns] n.良心；道德心 (初中英语单词)
- reckon [´rekən] v.计算；认为；估计 (初中英语单词)
- violent [´vaiələnt] a.强暴的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- refuge [´refju:dʒ] v.&n.避难(所)；庇护 (初中英语单词)
- champion [´tʃæmpiən] n.冠军 vt.拥护 (初中英语单词)
- partner [´pɑ:tnə] n.伙伴 v.同....合作 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- introduction [,intrə´dʌkʃən] n.介绍；引言；引导 (初中英语单词)
- interfere [,intə´fiə] vi.干涉；妨碍；打扰 (初中英语单词)
- mexican [´meksikən] n.&a.墨西哥人(语)的 (初中英语单词)
- strangely [´streindʒli] ad.奇怪地；陌生地 (初中英语单词)
- hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
- advertisement [əd´və:tismənt] n.(做)广告；宣传 (高中英语单词)
- inevitable [i´nevitəbəl] a.不可避免的 (高中英语单词)
- hereafter [hiər´ɑ:ftə] ad.&n.将来；来世 (高中英语单词)
- awkward [´ɔ:kwəd] a.笨拙的；为难的 (高中英语单词)
- access [´ækses] n.接近；通路；进入 (高中英语单词)
- decent [´di:sənt] a.体面的，正派的 (高中英语单词)
- southwest [,sauθ´west] n.&a.西南(方)(的) (高中英语单词)
- experienced [ik´spiəriənst] a.有经验的；熟练的 (英语四级单词)
- outlaw [´autlɔ:] n.歹徒 vt.将...放逐 (英语四级单词)
- unconsciously [ʌn´kɔʃəsli] ad.无意识地；不觉察地 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- assuredly [ə´ʃuəridli] ad.确实地；确信地 (英语四级单词)
- busily [´bizili] ad.忙碌地 (英语四级单词)
- composed [kəm´pəuzd] a.镇静自若的 (英语四级单词)
- right-hand [´rait´hænd] a.右手的，右边的 (英语四级单词)
- shipment [´ʃipmənt] n.装运；载货量 (英语四级单词)
- revolve [ri´vɔlv] v.(使)旋转；循环 (英语四级单词)
- setting [´setiŋ] n.安装；排字；布景 (英语四级单词)
- lighting [´laitiŋ] n.照明，发光 (英语四级单词)
- consternation [,kɔnstə´neiʃən] n.惊愕；惊恐；惊慌失措 (英语六级单词)
- cowboy [´kaubɔi] n.牧童；牛仔 (英语六级单词)
- assured [ə´ʃuəd] a.确实的 n.被保险人 (英语六级单词)
- swiftness [´swiftnis] n.迅速，敏捷 (英语六级单词)
- manifestly [´mænifestli] ad.明显的 (英语六级单词)
- tranquil [´træŋkwil] a.平静的，稳定的 (英语六级单词)
- barefoot [´beəfut] ad.&a.=barefooted (英语六级单词)
- affected [ə´fektid] a.做作的；假装的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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