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mechanic /m??k?n?k/ ?n.?技工，機(jī)修工
scarcely ?/’ske?sli/?adv. ?幾乎不炕婶，簡(jiǎn)直不
habitation /h?b??te??n/ ?n. ?居住; 住宅，家
Chapter 2
So I lived my life alone, without anyone that I could really talk to, until I had an accident with my plane in the Desert of?Sahara, six years ago. Something was broken in my engine. And as I had with me neither a?mechanic?nor any passengers, I set myself to attempt the difficult repairs all alone. It was a question of life or death for me: I had?scarcely?enough drinking water to last a week.
The first night, then, I went to sleep on the sand, a thousand miles from any human?habitation. I was more isolated than a shipwrecked sailor on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Thus you can imagine my amazement, at sunrise, when I was awakened by an odd little voice. It said:
"If you please-- draw me a sheep!"
"What!"
"Draw me a sheep!"
I jumped to my feet, completely thunderstruck. I blinked my eyes hard. I looked carefully all around me. And I saw a most extraordinary small person, who stood there examining me with great seriousness. Here you may see the best potrait that, later, I was able to make of him. But my drawing is certainly very much less charming than its model.
That, however, is not my fault. The grown-ups discouraged me in my painter‘s career when I was six years old, and I never learned to draw anything, except boas from the outside and boas from the inside.
