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Watson, que puede ser cuando se produzca un error de programa o cuando inicie Dr. Cuando ocurre un error en un programa de Windows , el sistema busca un controlador de errores de programa. El valor de la entrada Debugger especifica el comando del depurador que se va a utilizar para analizar los errores de los programas. Si no se encuentra el valor de la entrada Debugger, el sistema comprueba si el valor de Auto es cero o uno.
Si el valor de la entrada Auto es cero, el sistema genera un cuadro de mensaje que le notifica que ha ocurrido un error en un programa. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers.
There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions.
There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions. Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform.
No hemos salido nunca sin mantener una estrecha vigilancia y nadie nos hubiera pasado inadvertido. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice.
I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons. Pero no tuvimos problemas de ninguna clase. Le puede suceder una gran desgracia si lo hace. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot? Eso es muy interesante.
That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted. I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind, and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr.
Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window, and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it.
Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not? Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor. Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr.
Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window. Las cejas espesas, las delicadas ventanas de la nariz y los grandes ojos de color avellana daban fe de su orgullo, de su valor y de su fortaleza. Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep.
There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men.
There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended.
Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms, who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed.
The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit country-side there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills.
The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge, and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders.
Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the country-side, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles.
A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled. A los agricultores de la zona no les gusta nada lo que pasa, se lo aseguro.
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