The Time Machine — EN

XII
In the Darkness

“We emerged from the palace while the sun was still in part above the hori­zon. I was deter­mined to reach the White Sphinx ear­ly the next morn­ing, and ere the dusk I pur­posed push­ing through the woods that had stopped me on the pre­vi­ous jour­ney. My plan was to go as far as pos­si­ble that night, and then, build­ing a fire, to sleep in the pro­tec­tion of its glare. Accord­ing­ly, as we went along I gath­ered any sticks or dried grass I saw, and present­ly had my arms full of such lit­ter. Thus loaded, our progress was slow­er than I had antic­i­pat­ed, and besides Weena was tired. And I began to suf­fer from sleepi­ness too; so that it was full night before we reached the wood. Upon the shrub­by hill of its edge Weena would have stopped, fear­ing the dark­ness before us; but a sin­gu­lar sense of impend­ing calami­ty, that should indeed have served me as a warn­ing, drove me onward. I had been with­out sleep for a night and two days, and I was fever­ish and irri­ta­ble. I felt sleep com­ing upon me, and the Mor­locks with it.

“While we hes­i­tat­ed, among the black bush­es behind us, and dim against their black­ness, I saw three crouch­ing fig­ures. There was scrub and long grass all about us, and I did not feel safe from their insid­i­ous approach. The for­est, I cal­cu­lat­ed, was rather less than a mile across. If we could get through it to the bare hill-side, there, as it seemed to me, was an alto­geth­er safer rest­ing-place; I thought that with my match­es and my cam­phor I could con­trive to keep my path illu­mi­nat­ed through the woods. Yet it was evi­dent that if I was to flour­ish match­es with my hands I should have to aban­don my fire­wood; so, rather reluc­tant­ly, I put it down. And then it came into my head that I would amaze our friends behind by light­ing it. I was to dis­cov­er the atro­cious fol­ly of this pro­ceed­ing, but it came to my mind as an inge­nious move for cov­er­ing our retreat.

“I don’t know if you have ever thought what a rare thing flame must be in the absence of man and in a tem­per­ate cli­mate. The sun’s heat is rarely strong enough to burn, even when it is focused by dew­drops, as is some­times the case in more trop­i­cal dis­tricts. Light­ning may blast and black­en, but it rarely gives rise to wide­spread fire. Decay­ing veg­e­ta­tion may occa­sion­al­ly smoul­der with the heat of its fer­men­ta­tion, but this rarely results in flame. In this deca­dence, too, the art of fire-mak­ing had been for­got­ten on the earth. The red tongues that went lick­ing up my heap of wood were an alto­geth­er new and strange thing to Weena.

“She want­ed to run to it and play with it. I believe she would have cast her­self into it had I not restrained her. But I caught her up, and in spite of her strug­gles, plunged bold­ly before me into the wood. For a lit­tle way the glare of my fire lit the path. Look­ing back present­ly, I could see, through the crowd­ed stems, that from my heap of sticks the blaze had spread to some bush­es adja­cent, and a curved line of fire was creep­ing up the grass of the hill. I laughed at that, and turned again to the dark trees before me. It was very black, and Weena clung to me con­vul­sive­ly, but there was still, as my eyes grew accus­tomed to the dark­ness, suf­fi­cient light for me to avoid the stems. Over­head it was sim­ply black, except where a gap of remote blue sky shone down upon us here and there. I struck none of my match­es because I had no hand free. Upon my left arm I car­ried my lit­tle one, in my right hand I had my iron bar.

“For some way I heard noth­ing but the crack­ling twigs under my feet, the faint rus­tle of the breeze above, and my own breath­ing and the throb of the blood-ves­sels in my ears. Then I seemed to know of a pat­ter­ing about me. I pushed on grim­ly. The pat­ter­ing grew more dis­tinct, and then I caught the same queer sound and voic­es I had heard in the Under-world. There were evi­dent­ly sev­er­al of the Mor­locks, and they were clos­ing in upon me. Indeed, in anoth­er minute I felt a tug at my coat, then some­thing at my arm. And Weena shiv­ered vio­lent­ly, and became quite still.

“It was time for a match. But to get one I must put her down.

I did so, and, as I fum­bled with my pock­et, a strug­gle began in the dark­ness about my knees, per­fect­ly silent on her part and with the same pecu­liar coo­ing sounds from the Mor­locks. Soft lit­tle hands, too, were creep­ing over my coat and back, touch­ing even my neck. Then the match scratched and fizzed. I held it flar­ing, and saw the white backs of the Mor­locks in flight amid the trees. I hasti­ly took a lump of cam­phor from my pock­et, and pre­pared to light is as soon as the match should wane. Then I looked at Weena. She was lying clutch­ing my feet and quite motion­less, with her face to the ground. With a sud­den fright I stooped to her. She seemed scarce­ly to breathe. I lit the block of cam­phor and flung it to the ground, and as it split and flared up and drove back the Mor­locks and the shad­ows, I knelt down and lift­ed her. The wood behind seemed full of the stir and mur­mur of a great com­pa­ny!

“She seemed to have faint­ed. I put her care­ful­ly upon my shoul­der and rose to push on, and then there came a hor­ri­ble real­iza­tion. In manoeu­vring with my match­es and Weena, I had turned myself about sev­er­al times, and now I had not the faintest idea in what direc­tion lay my path. For all I knew, I might be fac­ing back towards the Palace of Green Porce­lain. I found myself in a cold sweat. I had to think rapid­ly what to do. I deter­mined to build a fire and encamp where we were. I put Weena, still motion­less, down upon a turfy bole, and very hasti­ly, as my first lump of cam­phor waned, I began col­lect­ing sticks and leaves. Here and there out of the dark­ness round me the Mor­locks’ eyes shone like car­bun­cles.

“The cam­phor flick­ered and went out. I lit a match, and as I did so, two white forms that had been approach­ing Weena dashed hasti­ly away. One was so blind­ed by the light that he came straight for me, and I felt his bones grind under the blow of my fist. He gave a whoop of dis­may, stag­gered a lit­tle way, and fell down. I lit anoth­er piece of cam­phor, and went on gath­er­ing my bon­fire. Present­ly I noticed how dry was some of the foliage above me, for since my arrival on the Time Machine, a mat­ter of a week, no rain had fall­en. So, instead of cast­ing about among the trees for fall­en twigs, I began leap­ing up and drag­ging down branch­es. Very soon I had a chok­ing smoky fire of green wood and dry sticks, and could econ­o­mize my cam­phor. Then I turned to where Weena lay beside my iron mace. I tried what I could to revive her, but she lay like one dead. I could not even sat­is­fy myself whether or not she breathed.

“Now, the smoke of the fire beat over towards me, and it must have made me heavy of a sud­den. More­over, the vapour of cam­phor was in the air. My fire would not need replen­ish­ing for an hour or so. I felt very weary after my exer­tion, and sat down. The wood, too, was full of a slum­brous mur­mur that I did not under­stand. I seemed just to nod and open my eyes. But all was dark, and the Mor­locks had their hands upon me. Fling­ing off their cling­ing fin­gers I hasti­ly felt in my pock­et for the match-box, and – it had gone! Then they gripped and closed with me again. In a moment I knew what had hap­pened. I had slept, and my fire had gone out, and the bit­ter­ness of death came over my soul. The for­est seemed full of the smell of burn­ing wood. I was caught by the neck, by the hair, by the arms, and pulled down. It was inde­scrib­ably hor­ri­ble in the dark­ness to feel all these soft crea­tures heaped upon me. I felt as if I was in a mon­strous spider’s web. I was over­pow­ered, and went down. I felt lit­tle teeth nip­ping at my neck. I rolled over, and as I did so my hand came against my iron lever. It gave me strength. I strug­gled up, shak­ing the human rats from me, and, hold­ing the bar short, I thrust where I judged their faces might be. I could feel the suc­cu­lent giv­ing of flesh and bone under my blows, and for a moment I was free.

“The strange exul­ta­tion that so often seems to accom­pa­ny hard fight­ing came upon me. I knew that both I and Weena were lost, but I deter­mined to make the Mor­locks pay for their meat. I stood with my back to a tree, swing­ing the iron bar before me. The whole wood was full of the stir and cries of them. A minute passed. Their voic­es seemed to rise to a high­er pitch of excite­ment, and their move­ments grew faster. Yet none came with­in reach. I stood glar­ing at the black­ness. Then sud­den­ly came hope. What if the Mor­locks were afraid? And close on the heels of that came a strange thing. The dark­ness seemed to grow lumi­nous. Very dim­ly I began to see the Mor­locks about me – three bat­tered at my feet – and then I rec­og­nized, with incred­u­lous sur­prise, that the oth­ers were run­ning, in an inces­sant stream, as it seemed, from behind me, and away through the wood in front. And their backs seemed no longer white, but red­dish. As I stood agape, I saw a lit­tle red spark go drift­ing across a gap of starlight between the branch­es, and van­ish. And at that I under­stood the smell of burn­ing wood, the slum­brous mur­mur that was grow­ing now into a gusty roar, the red glow, and the Mor­locks” flight.

“Step­ping out from behind my tree and look­ing back, I saw, through the black pil­lars of the near­er trees, the flames of the burn­ing for­est. It was my first fire com­ing after me. With that I looked for Weena, but she was gone. The hiss­ing and crack­ling behind me, the explo­sive thud as each fresh tree burst into flame, left lit­tle time for reflec­tion. My iron bar still gripped, I fol­lowed in the Mor­locks’ path. It was a close race. Once the flames crept for­ward so swift­ly on my right as I ran that I was out­flanked and had to strike off to the left. But at last I emerged upon a small open space, and as I did so, a Mor­lock came blun­der­ing towards me, and past me, and went on straight into the fire!

“And now I was to see the most weird and hor­ri­ble thing, I think, of all that I beheld in that future age. This whole space was as bright as day with the reflec­tion of the fire. In the cen­tre was a hillock or tumu­lus, sur­mount­ed by a scorched hawthorn. Beyond this was anoth­er arm of the burn­ing for­est, with yel­low tongues already writhing from it, com­plete­ly encir­cling the space with a fence of fire. Upon the hill-side were some thir­ty or forty Mor­locks, daz­zled by the light and heat, and blun­der­ing hith­er and thith­er against each oth­er in their bewil­der­ment. At first I did not real­ize their blind­ness, and struck furi­ous­ly at them with my bar, in a fren­zy of fear, as they approached me, killing one and crip­pling sev­er­al more. But when I had watched the ges­tures of one of them grop­ing under the hawthorn against the red sky, and heard their moans, I was assured of their absolute help­less­ness and mis­ery in the glare, and I struck no more of them.

“Yet every now and then one would come straight towards me, set­ting loose a quiv­er­ing hor­ror that made me quick to elude him. At one time the flames died down some­what, and I feared the foul crea­tures would present­ly be able to see me. I was think­ing of begin­ning the fight by killing some of them before this should hap­pen; but the fire burst out again bright­ly, and I stayed my hand. I walked about the hill among them and avoid­ed them, look­ing for some trace of Weena. But Weena was gone.

At last I sat down on the sum­mit of the hillock, and watched this strange incred­i­ble com­pa­ny of blind things grop­ing to and fro, and mak­ing uncan­ny nois­es to each oth­er, as the glare of the fire beat on them. The coil­ing uprush of smoke streamed across the sky, and through the rare tat­ters of that red canopy, remote as though they belonged to anoth­er uni­verse, shone the lit­tle stars. Two or three Mor­locks came blun­der­ing into me, and I drove them off with blows of my fists, trem­bling as I did so.

For the most part of that night I was per­suad­ed it was a night­mare. I bit myself and screamed in a pas­sion­ate desire to awake. I beat the ground with my hands, and got up and sat down again, and wan­dered here and there, and again sat down. Then I would fall to rub­bing my eyes and call­ing upon God to let me awake. Thrice I saw Mor­locks put their heads down in a kind of agony and rush into the flames. But, at last, above the sub­sid­ing red of the fire, above the stream­ing mass­es of black smoke and the whiten­ing and black­en­ing tree stumps, and the dimin­ish­ing num­bers of these dim crea­tures, came the white light of the day.

“I searched again for traces of Weena, but there were none.

It was plain that they had left her poor lit­tle body in the for­est. I can­not describe how it relieved me to think that it had escaped the awful fate to which it seemed des­tined. As I thought of that, I was almost moved to begin a mas­sacre of the help­less abom­i­na­tions about me, but I con­tained myself. The hillock, as I have said, was a kind of island in the for­est. From its sum­mit I could now make out through a haze of smoke the Palace of Green Porce­lain, and from that I could get my bear­ings for the White Sphinx. And so, leav­ing the rem­nant of these damned souls still going hith­er and thith­er and moan­ing, as the day grew clear­er, I tied some grass about my feet and limped on across smok­ing ash­es and among black stems, that still pul­sat­ed inter­nal­ly with fire, towards the hid­ing-place of the Time Machine. I walked slow­ly, for I was almost exhaust­ed, as well as lame, and I felt the intens­est wretched­ness for the hor­ri­ble death of lit­tle Weena. It seemed an over­whelm­ing calami­ty. Now, in this old famil­iar room, it is more like the sor­row of a dream than an actu­al loss. But that morn­ing it left me absolute­ly lone­ly again – ter­ri­bly alone. I began to think of this house of mine, of this fire­side, of some of you, and with such thoughts came a long­ing that was pain.

“But as I walked over the smok­ing ash­es under the bright morn­ing sky, I made a dis­cov­ery. In my trouser pock­et were still some loose match­es. The box must have leaked before it was lost.

ere prep Before.

dusk dʌsk n The time of day imme­di­ate­ly fol­low­ing sun­set.

glare gleə n Unpleas­ant­ly bright light.

lit­ter ˈlɪtə n Dis­or­der­ly accu­mu­la­tion of objects: pile

antic­i­pate ænˈtɪsɪpeɪt v To know in advance: see, fore­see

sleepi­ness ˈsliːpɪnəs n A very sleepy state: drowsi­ness, lethar­gy, tor­por, heav­i­ness, som­no­lence, dozi­ness

shrub­by ˈʃrʌbi adj Cov­ered with woody plants of rel­a­tive­ly low height: bushy

sin­gu­lar ˈsɪŋgjʊlə adj Beyond or devi­at­ing from the usu­al or expect­ed.

impend ɪmˈpɛnd v To be immi­nent: hang, threat­en, loom, men­ace

calami­ty kəˈlæmɪti n An occur­rence inflict­ing wide­spread destruc­tion and dis­tress: tragedy, dis­as­ter, cat­a­stro­phe

onward ˈɒn­wəd adv In the usu­al direc­tion of trav­el, straight on: ahead, onwards, for­ward, for­wards

fever­ish ˈfiːvərɪʃ adj Very excit­ed or wor­ried about some­thing.

irri­ta­ble ˈɪrɪtəbl adj Eas­i­ly irri­tat­ed or annoyed: cranky, frac­tious, net­tle­some, peev­ish, peck­ish, pet­tish

crouch kraʊʧ v To bend low: hud­dle, squat, hunch, hun­ker

scrub skrʌb n Dense veg­e­ta­tion con­sist­ing of stunt­ed trees or bush­es: bush, chap­ar­ral

insid­i­ous ɪnˈsɪdɪəs adj Work­ing harm­ful­ly in a sub­tle or stealthy man­ner: treach­er­ous

get through ⇒ To reach a des­ti­na­tion.

cam­phor ˈkæm­fə n Strong­ly scent­ed whitish sub­stance used in var­i­ous med­ical and indus­tri­al pur­pos­es.

con­trive kənˈ­traɪv v To use inge­nu­ity in achiev­ing: think up, devise, for­mu­late, fab­ri­cate

illu­mi­nate ɪˈljuːmɪneɪt v To make lighter or brighter; to sup­ply or bright­en with light; light up.

flour­ish ˈflʌrɪʃ v To make bold, sweep­ing move­ments.

atro­cious əˈtrəʊʃəs adj Extreme­ly evil or cru­el; excep­tion­al­ly bad: mon­strous, out­ra­geous; abom­inable

fol­ly ˈfɒli n Fool­ish behav­iour: absur­di­ty, insan­i­ty, fool­ish­ness, crazi­ness, pre­pos­ter­ous­ness, sense­less­ness, silli­ness

inge­nious ɪnˈʤiːniəs adj Very smart or clever.

tem­per­ate ˈtɛm­pərɪt adj Free from extremes: mild

dew-drop ˈdjuː­drɒp n Drop of water con­densed from the air, usu­al­ly at night, onto cool sur­faces.

blast blɑːst v To make an explo­sive noise; to release ener­gy sud­den­ly with a loud voice: roar, bang, thun­der; fire, blow, burst, explode

decay dɪˈkeɪ v To be slow­ly destroyed or bro­ken down by nat­ur­al process­es: rot­ten

veg­e­ta­tion ˌvɛʤɪˈteɪʃən n Plants that cov­er a par­tic­u­lar area: plants, flo­ra, green­ery, foliage, ver­dure

smoul­der ˈsməʊldə v To burn with lit­tle smoke and no flame.

fer­men­ta­tion ˌfɜːmɛnˈteɪʃən n Chem­i­cal reac­tion induced by liv­ing or non­liv­ing fer­ments that split com­plex organ­ic com­pounds into rel­a­tive­ly sim­ple sub­stances.

deca­dence ˈdɛkədəns n Behav­iour that shows that some­one has low moral stan­dards and is more con­cerned with plea­sure than seri­ous mat­ters.

heap hiːp n A large, dis­or­dered pile of things: pile

to cast one­self into some­thing ⇒ To throw o.s into.

restrain rɪsˈtreɪn v To stop some­one from doing some­thing, often by using phys­i­cal force.

to catch s.b. up ⇒ To snatch, pick up sud­den­ly.

stem stɛm n Stalk or trunk.

heap hiːp n A large, dis­or­dered pile of things: pile

blaze bleɪz n A strong flame that burns bright­ly: blaz­ing

adja­cent əˈʤeɪsənt adj Lying near.

con­vul­sive­ly kənˈvʌl­sɪvli adv Spas­mod­i­cal­ly.

over­head ˈəʊvɛhɛd adv Direct­ly above; in the sky above.

crack­le ˈkrækl v To make repeat­ed short sounds like some­thing burn­ing in a fire.

twig twɪg n A small, leaf­less branch of a woody plant.

rus­tle ˈrʌsl n A soft crack­ling sound, as of dry sur­faces rub­bing against each oth­er.

throb θrɒb n A vio­lent beat or pul­sa­tion, as of the heart.

blood-ves­sel ˈblʌdˌvɛsl n An elas­tic tubu­lar chan­nel, such as an artery, a vein, or a cap­il­lary, through which the blood cir­cu­lates.

then I seemed to know of ⇒ Then I became con­scious of.

pat­ter ˈpætə v To speak or chat­ter glibly and rapid­ly.

grim­ly ˈgrɪm­li adv In very seri­ous appear­ance or man­ner: implaca­bly

queer kwɪə adj Devi­at­ing from the cus­tom­ary: strange, curi­ous, odd, pecu­liar, sin­gu­lar, quaint, weird

to close in upon ⇒ To come near­er and sur­round for an attack.

tug tʌg n A sud­den pull: lurch, twitch, jerk, snap, wrench

shiv­er ˈʃɪvə v To shake slight­ly because of cold, fear, etc.

fum­ble ˈfʌm­bl v To touch ner­vous­ly or idly.

pecu­liar pɪˈkjuːliə adj Not usu­al or nor­mal.

coo kuː v To utter the mur­mur­ing sound of a dove; to talk fond­ly or amorous­ly in mur­murs.

fizz fɪz v To make a hiss­ing or bub­bling sound: siz­zle, hiss. swish

flare fleə v To shine or burn sud­den­ly and briefly: flame, glow

in flight ⇒ (of birds) gath­ered in a group.

lump lʌmp n A com­pact mass of some­thing with­out def­i­nite shape: chunk

wane weɪn v To lose strength: decline, fade, weak­en, dete­ri­o­rate, flag

clutch klʌʧ v Hold firm­ly, usu­al­ly with one’s hands: grab

stoop stuːp v To bend the body for­ward and down­ward.

she seemed scarce­ly to breathe ⇒ she gave almost no signs of breath­ing.

kneel niːl pp knelt nɛlt v Rest one’s weight on one’s knees.

mur­mur ˈmɜːmə v To make a low, con­tin­u­ous sound.

manoeu­vre məˈnuːvə v To go from one place to anoth­er: move, shift

to turn about ⇒ To turn round.

I had not the faintest idea ⇒ I hadn’t any idea.

porce­lain ˈpɔːsəlɪn n A hard shiny white sub­stance that is used for mak­ing expen­sive plates, cups etc: chi­na

encamp ɪnˈkæmp v To set up camp.

turfy ˈtɜː­fi adj Of, cov­ered with, or resem­bling a sur­face that con­sists of soil with grass on top: sod­dy

bole bəʊl n The trunk of a tree.

wane weɪn v To lose strength: decline, fade, weak­en, dete­ri­o­rate, flag

car­bun­cle ˈkɑːbʌŋkl n Red pre­cious stone.

flick­er ˈflɪkə v Shine unsteadi­ly.

to go out ⇒ To extin­guish.

grind graɪnd v To crush to small par­ti­cles by pound­ing or abrad­ing.

whoop huːp n A loud hoot­ing cry of exul­ta­tion or excite­ment.

dis­may dɪsˈmeɪ v The feel­ing of despair in the face of obsta­cles: dis­cour­age­ment, dis­heart­en­ment

stag­ger ˈstægə v To walk or move unsteadi­ly, almost falling over.

to gath­er a fire ⇒ To col­lect wood and make a fire; bon­fire ˈbɒnˌ­faɪə n A large fire built in the open air.

foliage ˈfəʊlɪɪʤ n All the leaves of a tree.

a mat­ter of ⇒ About an amount men­tioned.

to cast about ⇒ To be on the watch, to look for.

to leap up ⇒ To jump.

choke ʧəʊk v Breathe with great dif­fi­cul­ty, as when inhal­ing smoke.

mace meɪs n Met­al war club, often with spikes.

revive rɪˈ­vaɪv v Give new life or ener­gy to or restore from a depressed, inac­tive, or unused state.

sat­is­fy ˈsætɪs­faɪ v To cause some­one to believe that some­thing is true.

heavy ˈhɛvi adj Clum­sy slow and sleepy: slug­gish, slow, inac­tive, inert, apa­thet­ic, drowsy, list­less, indo­lent, tor­pid

vapour ˈveɪpə n Cloudy dif­fused mat­ter, such as mist, fumes, or smoke, sus­pend­ed in the air.

replen­ish rɪˈ­plɛnɪʃ v To add new stock to.

or so ⇒ (of quan­ti­ties) Impre­cise but fair­ly close to.

weary ˈwɪəri adj Phys­i­cal­ly or men­tal­ly tired or exhaust­ed.

exer­tion ɪgˈzɜːʃən n Ener­getic phys­i­cal action: activ­i­ty, exer­cise

slumb(e)rous ˈslʌm­brəs adj Induc­ing sleep: sleepy, som­no­lent

mur­mur ˈmɜːmə v To make a low, con­tin­u­ous sound.

nod nɒd v Let the head fall for­ward through drowsi­ness.

to have one’s hands on/upon some­one ⇒ To catch.

to fling off ⇒ To rush with great speed.

to pull down ⇒ To apply force so as to cause motion, to jerk.

inde­scrib­ably ˌɪndɪsˈkraɪbəbli adv To an inex­press­ible degree: inef­fa­bly, unut­ter­ably, unspeak­ably, inex­press­ibly

to heap upon ⇒ To put things in a heap, amass.

web wɛb n Struc­ture of del­i­cate, thread­like fil­a­ments char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly spun by spi­ders.

over­pow­er ˌəʊvəˈ­paʊə v To over­come or van­quish by supe­ri­or force: sub­due

to go down ⇒ To fall.

nip nɪp v To seize and bite.

lever ˈliːvə n Pro­ject­ing han­dle used to adjust or oper­ate a mech­a­nism.

suc­cu­lent ˈsʌkjʊlənt adj Hav­ing fleshy and juicy tis­sues.

exul­ta­tion ˌɛgzʌlˈteɪʃən n A feel­ing of extreme joy over a suc­cess or vic­to­ry: exul­tance, exul­tan­cy, jubi­lance, jubi­la­tion, tri­umph

to rise to a high­er pitch ⇒ To become loud­er (of a voice).

to come with­in reach ⇒ To come near­er, get with­in the range of.

glare gleə v To stare fierce­ly and angri­ly.

on the heels of ⇒ Fol­low­ing close behind or soon after some­one or some­thing.

lumi­nous ˈluːmɪnəs adj Soft­ly bright or radi­ant.

bat­ter ˈbætə v To hit heav­i­ly and repeat­ed­ly with vio­lent blows: beat, hit, pound, strike, thrash

incred­u­lous ɪnˈkrɛd­jʊləs adj Refus­ing to believe: skep­ti­cal, unbe­liev­ing

inces­sant ɪnˈsɛs­nt adj Con­tin­u­ing with­out inter­rup­tion: con­stant, con­tin­u­ous, eter­nal, end­less, ever­last­ing, per­pet­u­al, inter­minable, cease­less

to stand agape ⇒ To stand in a state of won­der or amaze­ment.

gusty ˈgʌsti adj Blow­ing or com­ing in sud­den strong wind blows.

roar rɔː n A deep, loud noise made by an ani­mal or by human voice.

pil­lar ˈpɪlə n An upright struc­ture of stone, brick, met­al, etc, that sup­ports a super­struc­ture or is used for orna­men­ta­tion.

hiss hɪs v To make a sharp sibi­lant sound: siz­zle, swish, whiz, fiz­zle

thud θʌd n Dull sound, as that of a heavy object strik­ing a sol­id sur­face.

a close race ⇒ An almost even and very strained race.

on my right ⇒ On the right side of me.

out­flank aʊtˈflæŋk v To gain a tac­ti­cal advan­tage over.

to strike off to the left ⇒ To turn sud­den­ly to the left.

at last ⇒ After a long wait; final­ly.

to emerge upon ⇒ To become evi­dent.

blun­der ˈblʌndə v To move clum­si­ly in an unsteady way, as if you can­not see prop­er­ly: stum­ble, lurch, wal­low, bum­ble

behold bɪˈhəʊld pp, pt beheld bɪˈhɛld v To appre­hend (images) by use of the eyes: see, per­ceive

hillock ˈhɪlək n Small hill.

tumu­lus ˈtjuːmjʊləs pl tumuli ˈtjuːmjʊlaɪ n A heap of earth placed over an ancient grave.

sur­mount sɜːˈ­maʊnt v To be above or on top of some­thing.

scorch skɔːʧ v To make hot: burn, bake

hawthorn ˈhɔːθɔːn n Thorny shrub with clus­ters of pink­ish flow­ers.

writhe raɪð v To twist your body from side to side vio­lent­ly, espe­cial­ly of pain.

daz­zle ˈdæ­zl v To dim the vision of, espe­cial­ly to blind with intense light: daze, bedaz­zle

hith­er and thith­er ⇒ To many places; here and there.

bewil­der­ment ˈbɪˈwɪldəmənt n The con­di­tion of being con­fused or dis­ori­ent­ed.

furi­ous­ly ˈfjʊərɪəs­li adv In a man­ner marked by extreme or vio­lent ener­gy: fierce­ly, fran­ti­cal­ly, fren­zied­ly, hard, stren­u­ous­ly

in a fren­zy of fear ⇒ Extreme­ly fright­ened, almost mad with fear.

crip­ple ˈkrɪ­pl v To hurt some­one bad­ly so that they can­not walk prop­er­ly. dis­able.

grope grəʊp v To search uncer­tain­ly: feel, fum­ble

moan məʊn v To make a long low sound because of pain, sad­ness, or plea­sure.

quiver ˈkwɪvə v To shake slight­ly because you are cold, or because you feel very afraid, angry, excit­ed etc: trem­ble

elude ɪˈluːd v To escape from some­one or some­thing, espe­cial­ly by trick­ing them

to die down ⇒ To dimin­ish grad­u­al­ly (of fire, flames etc.).

to stay one’s hand ⇒ To stop, to restrain from doing some­thing.

to walk about ⇒ To walk here and there.

to and fro ⇒ In one direc­tion and then the oppo­site one.

uncan­ny ʌnˈkæni n Very strange and dif­fi­cult to explain.

coil kɔɪl v A con­tin­u­ous series of cir­cu­lar rings into which some­thing such as wire or rope has been wound or twist­ed.

uprush ˈʌpˌrʌʃ n Sud­den for­ward motion.

tat­ter ˈtætə n Worn or hang­ing piece of cloth.

canopy ˈkænəpi n Pro­tec­tive rooflike cov­er­ing, often made of can­vas.

to dri­ve off = dri­ve away ⇒ To com­pel to move away.

trem­ble ˈtrɛm­bl v To shake slight­ly because you are afraid, ner­vous, excit­ed, etc.

for the most part of the night ⇒ For the great­est part of the night.

to get up ⇒ To rise.

thrice θraɪs adv Three times.

sub­side səbˈsaɪd v To become less strong or loud.

stump stʌmp n The bot­tom part of a tree that is left in the ground after the rest of it has been cut down.

des­tined ˈdɛstɪnd adj Seem­ing cer­tain to hap­pen at some time in the future.

mas­sacre ˈmæsəkə n The sav­age killing of many vic­tims: slaugh­ter, blood­shed, car­nage

abom­i­na­tion əˌbɒmɪˈneɪʃ(ə)n n An action that is vicious or vile; an action that arous­es dis­gust or abhor­rence.

to con­tain one­self ⇒ To restrain one­self.

to make out ⇒ To see or dis­tin­guish some­thing clear­ly enough to be sure of it.

haze heɪz n Smoke, dust, or mist in the air which is dif­fi­cult to see through.

to get one’s bear­ings ⇒ To become aware of one’s sit­u­a­tion rel­a­tive to one’s sur­round­ings; to find one’s posi­tion with ref­er­ence to.

rem­nant ˈrɛm­nənt n The remains of some­thing destroyed: remain­der, rel­ic, ves­tige

limp lɪmp v To walk in a slow and awk­ward way because of an injury to a leg or foot.

lame leɪm adj Dis­abled or crip­pled in the legs or feet.

wretched­ness ˈrɛʧɪd­nəs n Unhap­pi­ness.

over­whelm ˌəʊvəˈwɛlm v To impair sev­er­ly: break, destroy, ruin, crush

fire­side ˈfaɪəsaɪd n The area imme­di­ate­ly sur­round­ing a fire­place or hearth.

leak liːk v To pass in or out as through an unin­tend­ed hole or crack.

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