词汇：carrying

adj. 运送的；运输的

相关场景

The young men who are walking in all still have hair, and they are carrying some baggage. They begin to enter the temple.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
San De, the sweeping monk, walks out of the open door, a monk behind him carrying a suitcase. He walks past Drew, noticing him sitting there. He walks on.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
ANGLE ON TREVOR: Making his entrance. He is in a perfectly laundered and pressed suit, and his assistant is carrying another suit pressed and ready to go.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
It is kind of spooky, and there are no lights on outside. There is candlelight inside, and it is moving around – an effect not unlike a ghost carrying a candelabra.
>> 花旗小和尚 American Shaolin (1992) Movie Script
You're carrying dead weight, Maxie.
>> 美国往事Once Upon a Time in America Movie Script
The Brute Squad had their hands full carrying out Humperdinck's orders.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
CUT TO:
SOMETHING REALLY FRIGHTENING: A BLOODLESS-LOOKING ALBINO Dead pale, he silently enters the pit, carrying a tray of food and medication. He puts it down.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
BUTTERCUP: What? -- go on -- Westley picks her up, carrying her across some swamp water that is bridged by a narrow, rickety tree branch.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
MAN IN BLACK: (his voice harsh now, carrying the promise of violence) Catch your breath.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
PULL BACK TO REVEAL Vizzini, staring down from a narrow mountain path, as far below the Man In Black can be seen running. FEZZIK, carrying the Princess, stands alongside. It's a little later in the morning.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
FEZZIK:
Well, I'm carrying three people.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
And he starts to ascend the rope, carrying them all along with him as he goes.
>> The Princess Bride Movie Script
Before he reached Kansas, word had filtered ahead of him that a man was carrying a body home to Texas. The plain was filled with herds, for it was full summer. Cowboys spread the word, soldiers spread it. Several times he met trappers, coming east from the Rockies, or buffalo hunters who were finding no buffalo. The Indians heard—Pawnee and Arapahoe and Ogallala Sioux. Sometimes he would ride past parties of braves, their horses fat on spring grass, come to watch his journey. Some were curious enough to approach him, even to question him. Why did he not bury the compañero? Was he a holy man whose spirit must have a special place?
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“So you’re doing it, are you, Mr. Call?” Clara said, when she saw him. She had a look of scorn in her eyes, which puzzled him, since he was merely carrying out the request of the man who had loved her for so long. Of course Dish had told her that Gus wanted his body taken to Texas.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The first people he saw, as he approached Nebraska, were five young Indians who had gotten liquor somewhere. When they saw he was carrying a dead man they let him alone, though they were too drunk to hunt successfully and begged him for food. None of them looked to be eighteen, and their horses were poor. Call started to refuse, but then he reflected that they were just boys. He offered them food if they would give up their liquor, but at that they grew quarrelsome. One drew an old pistol and acted as if he might fire at him, but Call ignored the threat, and they were soon gone.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“We gotta move,” he said. “This cover’s working against us. But for luck we’d both be dead now already. What we need is a stretch with a steep bank and no cover.” They worked their way upstream, carrying the saddle, saddlebags and guns, for nearly a mile, hugging the bank. Augustus was limping badly but didn’t stop to worry about it. Finally they came to a bend in the creek, where the bank was sheer and about ten feet high. The creek bottom was nearly bare of foliage.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
There was confusion everywhere. The remuda was running south, carrying the Spettle boy along with it. Two or three of the men had been thrown and their mounts were fleeing south. The thrown cowhands, expecting to die any minute, though they had no idea what was attacking, crept around with their pistols drawn.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I doubt you can get Woodrow Call to go to your picnic,” Augustus said. “He’ll be wanting to get back to work.” But Call went. He had come back to the house, still trying to think of a way to talk Clara down on the horses, only to find the girls loading a small wagon, Lorena holding a baby, and Gus carrying a crock of buttermilk.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Clara just smiled, her old beguiling smile. “I’m honest,” she said. “To most men, that’s sassy.” “Well, it might interest you to know that Lorie started this trip with your old friend Jake Spoon,” Augustus said. “He was his usual careless self and let her get kidnapped by a real rough man.”“Oh, so you rescued her?” Clara said. “No wonder she worships you. What happened to Jake?” “He met a bad end,” Augustus said. “We hung him. He was with a gang of murderers.” Clara didn’t flinch at the news. She heard the girls coming back down the stairs. Lorena was carrying the baby. Clara stood up so Lorena could sit. The baby’s eyes followed her.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
To his surprise, he didn’t enjoy the visit to Ogallala very much. He hit the dry-goods store just as the owner was closing and persuaded him to reopen long enough for him to buy Lorie a mass of clothes. He bought everything from petticoats to dresses, a hat, and also a warm coat, for they were sure to strike cool weather in Montana. He even bought himself a black frock coat worthy of a preacher, and a silk string tie. The merchant soon was in no mood to close; he offered Augustus muffs and gloves and felt-lined boots and other oddities. In the end he had such a purchase that he couldn’t even consider carrying it—they would have to come in tomorrow and pick it up in the wagon, though he did wrap up a few things in case Lorie wanted to wear them to Clara’s. He bought her combs and brushes and a mirror—women liked to see themselves, he knew, and Lorena hadn’t had the opportunity since Fort Worth.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Come help me shuck this corn,” Clara said. “The roasting ears are about gone. I get so hungry for them during the winter, I could eat a dozen.”She went on toward the house, carrying her heavy garden basket. When she didn’t hear his footsteps, she looked back at him. July wiped his face and followed her to the house.THE NEXT MORNING, when he managed to get up, July came into the kitchen to find Cholo sharpening a thin-bladed knife. The baby lay on the table, kicking his bare feet, and Clara, wearing a man’s hat, was giving the two girls instructions.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Get her to the Doc,” Dee said. “Leon knows where he lives.” Dee began to yell for the deputy and soon Leon came running around the jail. Elmira didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay and talk to Dee, assure him that it would be all right, they would get him out. She would never let them hang Dee Boot. She looked in at him, but she couldn’t talk anymore. She couldn’t say the things she wanted to say. She tried, but no words came out. Her eyes wanted to close, and no matter how hard she tried to keep them open and look at Dee, they kept trying to close. She tried to see Dee again, as Zwey was carrying her away, but Dee’s face was lost in a patch of sunlight. The sun shone brightly against the wall of the jail and Dee’s face was lost in the light. Then, despite herself, her head fell back against Zwey’s arm and all she could see was the sky.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
As he was carrying her, a man came out of the jail and stepped around the corner of the building. It proved to be a deputy sheriff—his name was Leon—going out to relieve himself. He was startled to see a huge man standing there with a tiny woman in a nightgown in his arms. Nothing so surprising had happened in his whole tenure as deputy. It stopped him in his tracks.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
It seemed to her, after a month of it, that she was carrying Bob away with those sheets; he had already lost much weightand every morning seemed a little thinner to her. The large body that had lain beside her so many nights, that had warmed her in the icy nights, that had covered her those many times through the years and given her five children, was dribbling away as offal, and there was nothing she could do about it. The doctors in Ogallala said Bob’s skull was fractured; you couldn’t put a splint on a skull; probably he’d die. And yet he wasn’t dead. Often when she was cleaning him, bathing his soiled loins and thighs with warm water, the stem of life between his legs would raise itself, growing as if a fractured skull meant nothing to it. Clara cried at the sight—what it meant to her was that Bob still hoped for a boy. He couldn’t talk or turn himself, and he would never beat another horse, most likely, but he still wanted a boy. The stem let her know it, night after night, when all she came in to do was clean the stains from a dying body. She would roll Bob on his side and hold him there for a while, for his back and legs were developing terrible bedsores. She was afraid to turn him on his belly for fear he might suffocate, but she would hold him on his side for an hour, sometimes napping as she held him. Then she would roil him back and cover him and go back to her cot, often to lie awake half the night, looking at the prairies, sad beyond tears at the ways of things. There Bob lay, barely alive, his ribs showing more every morning, still wanting a boy. I could do it, she thought—would it save him if I did? I could go through it one more time—the pregnancy, the fear, the sore nipples, the worry—and maybe it would be a boy. Though she had borne five children, she sometimes felt barren, lying on her cot at night. She felt she was ignoring her husband’s last wish—that if she had any generosity she would do it for him. How could she lie night after night and ignore the strange, mute urgings of a dying man, one who had never been anything but kind to her, in his clumsy way. Bob, dying, still wanted her to make a little Bob. Sometimes in the long silent nights she felt she must be going crazy to think about such things, in such a way. And yet she came to dread having to go to him at night; it became as hard as anything she had had to do in her marriage. It was so hard that at times she wished Bob would go on and die, if he couldn’t get well. The truth was, she didn’t want another child, particularly not another boy. Somehow she felt confident she could keep her girls alive—but she lacked that confidence where boys were concerned. She remembered too well the days of icy terror and restless pain as she listened to Jim cough his way to death. She remembered her hatred of, and helplessness before, the fevers that had taken Jeff and Johnny. Not again, she thought—I won’t live that again, even for you, Bob. The memory of the fear that had torn her as her children approached death was the most vivid of her life: she could remember the coughings, the painful breathing. She never wanted to listen helplessly to such again.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
There seemed to be hundreds of buzzards on the knoll. Suddenly a big coyote ran right out of the midst of them, carrying something—Newt couldn’t see what.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇