uard. Then he sat down on his heels and peered under the chair, poking with his finger at the greasy little engine, and resenting the grease-marks on his clean Sunday shirt.

守林人把猎枪靠在树上，脱掉外套，扔在树边。那只棕色猎犬蹲伏在旁警戒着。接着，他蹲下身子，观察着轮椅的底部，手指轻触着油迹斑斑的马达，眼见自己洁净的礼拜日衬衫沾满油渍，让他心里颇感不悦。

"Doesn't seem anything broken," he said. And he stood up, pushing back his hat from his forehead, rubbing his brow and apparently studying.

“似乎没有损坏的地方。”他说。然后，他站起身来，把帽子往脑后推了推，磨蹭着额头，显然是正在苦思。

"Have you looked at the rods underneath?" Asked Clifford. "See if they are all right!"

“看到底部的杠杆了么？”克利福德问。“看看它们是否正常！”

The man lay flat on his stomach on the floor, his neck pressed back, wriggling under the engine and poking with his finger. Connie thought what a pathetic sort of thing a man was, feeble and small-looking, when he was lying on his belly on the big earth.

守林人趴在地上，头向后拧，在发动机下面蠕动着，手指戳戳这里，碰碰那里。康妮觉得，堂堂男子汉趴在地上，显得那样渺小，那样微不足道，简直就是条可怜虫。

"Seems all right as far as I can see," came his muffled voice.

“依我看，似乎一切正常。”轮椅下传来他模糊不清的声音。

"I don't suppose you can do anything," said Clifford.

“我看你也无能为力了。”克利福德说。

"Seems as if I can't!” And he scrambled up and sat on his heels, collier fashion. "There's certainly nothing obviously broken.” Clifford started his engine, then put her in gear. She would not move.

“好像确实如此！”他爬起来，蹲在那里，屁股挨着后脚跟，那是矿工们惯用的姿势。“并未发现明显的损坏。”克利福德发动引擎，然后挂上档。但轮椅纹丝没动。

"Run her a bit hard, like," suggested the keeper.

“加大马力，试试怎么样。”守林人建议道。

Clifford resented the interference: but he made his engine buzz like a blue-bottle. Then she coughed and snarled and seemed to go better.

克利福德讨厌被人指挥，但他还是把马达弄得嗡嗡作响，活像只鼓噪的青蝇。她咳嗽了几声，接着咆哮起来，似乎有好转的趋势。

"Sounds as if she'd come clear," said Mellors.

“听起来有门儿。”梅勒斯说。

But Clifford had already jerked her into gear. She gave a sick lurch and ebbed weakly forwards.

但克利福德已经迫不及待地挂上了挡。它左右摇摆着，有气无力地向前挪动着。

"If I give her a push, she'll do it," said the keeper, going behind.

“我来推一把，她就会跑起来了。”守林人说着，来到轮椅后面。

"Keep off!" Snapped Clifford. "She'll do it by herself.” "But Clifford!"