词汇：cook

vt. 烹调，煮

相关场景

He looked and saw that Pea Eye knelt on the other side of the body, looking dazed. Far away, toward the river, he saw the Captain and Lippy, digging. Mr. Gus sat by himself, near the cook fire, eating. The three horses had been unsaddled but no one had returned them to the remuda. They grazed nearby. Most of the hands stood in a group near Deets’s feet, just looking as Po Campo worked.

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“It’s what’s left of Deets,” Augustus said. “I hope the cook’s awake.” After feeling nothing for two days, he had begun to feel hungry.

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Trotting back into camp one morning he saw there was excitement around the cook fire. Several of the men were holding rifles. The sight surprised him, for it had seemed a peaceful night.

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Call helped Lippy and the cook tie down everything on the wagon. Lippy, who hated wind, looked frightened; Po Campo said nothing.

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“Oh, we could,” Augustus said. “We could have stopped pretty much anywhere along the way. It’s only your stubbornness kept us going this long. I guess it’ll be interesting to see if it can get us the next eighty miles.” Call got a plate and ate a big meal. He expected Po Campo to say something about their predicament, but the old cook merely dished out the food and said nothing. Deets was helping Pea Eye trim one of his horse’s feet, a task Pea Eye had never been good at.

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“Have you been up here before?” he asked. The old cook’s wanderings had been a subject of much speculation among the men. Po Campo was always letting slip tantalizing bits of information. Once, for example, he had described the great gorge of the Columbia River. Again, he had casually mentioned Jim Bridger.

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“That was your business,” Call said. “I didn’t tell you to leave her behind, though I’m sure it’s the best thing.” “I think we ought to have listened to our cook,” Augustus said. “It’s looking droughty to me.” “If we can make Powder River I guess we’ll be all right,” Call said.“What if Jake lied to us?” Augustus said. “What if Montana ain’t the paradise he said it was? We’ll have come a hell of a way for nothing.” “I want to see it,” Call said. “We’ll be the first to graze cattle on it. Don’t that interest you?” “Not much,” Augustus said. “I’ve watched these goddamn cattle graze all I want to.” The next day Deets came back from his scout looking worried. “Dry as a bone, Captain,” he said.

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“Just hold him or give him to Miss Wood,” Clara said. “I can’t hold him and cook too.” Call, July and Cholo had walked off to the lots, for Call wanted to buy a few horses and anyway didn’t care to sit in a kitchen and try to make conversation.

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“There won’t be much to cook when it gets dry,” Po said.

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“Oh, Ma, we can cook,” Sally said. She loved to get her mother out of the kitchen—then she could boss her younger sister around.

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“I’ve got to ride the point,” he said. “Just follow along with the wagon. Lippy and the cook will look after you. If you need anything, send for me.” “I need Gus,” Lorena said. “I wish he hadn’t left. Do you think he’ll come back?” “Oh, why, of course he will,” Dish said. It was the friendliest she had ever talked to him, though it was about Gus.

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“They didn’t have nothing,” he said. “I don’t know why you even bothered to kill them.” “It was their unlucky day, same as it was Frog’s,” Dan said. “We’ll miss Frog, the man could shoot. I wish I had that damn Wilbarger here, I’d cook him good.” After drinking some more coffee, Dan Suggs mounted up. The two farmers, the trunks of their bodies blackened, still hung from the tree.“Don’t you intend to bury them?” Jake asked. “Somebody’s gonna find them, you know, and it could be the law.” Dan Suggs just laughed. “I’d like to see the law that could take me,” he said. “No man in Kansas could manage it, and anyway I fancy seeing Nebraska.” He turned to his brothers, who were dispiritedly raking through the settlers’ clothes, still hoping to find something worth taking.

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“That old cook is a sight,” Augustus said. “I guess he plans to walk all the way to Canada.” “He likes to watch the grass,” Newt explained. “He’s always finding stuff. He’ll cook most anything he picks up.” “Does he cook grass?” Lorena asked, interested. She had never seen Po Campo close up but was intrigued by the sight of the tiny figure walking day after day across the great plain.“No, but he cooks things like grasshoppers once in a while,” Newt said.

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Augustus had made a fire of buffalo chips and was complaining about it. “Dern, I hate to cook with shit,” he said. “I hear you lost your pony.” “Yes. Ben was riding him. It wasn’t his fault, though,” Newt said.

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Newt wasn’t even riding Mouse when the accident occurred. He had traded mounts for the day with Ben Rainey. The day’s work was over and Ben had ridden into the herd with Call’s permission to cut out a beef for the cook. He rode up to a little bridled cow, meaning to take her yearling calf, and while he was easing the calf away from her the cow turned mean suddenly and hooked Mouse right back of the girth. She was a small cow with unusually sharp horns, and her thrust was so violent that Mouse’s hindquarters were lifted off the ground. Ben Rainey was thrown, and had to scramble to keep from being hooked himself. Soupy Jones saw it happen. He loped in and soon turned the mad cow, but the damage was done. Mouse was spurting blood like a fountain from his abdomen.

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“Well, that old cook of Call’s that likes to fry bugs will be happy, at least,” he said. “He can fry up a damn wagonful tonight.” When the cloud of grasshoppers hit the Hat Greek outfit, they were on a totally open plain and could do nothing but watch it come, in terror and astonishment. Lippy sat on the wagon seat, his mouth hanging open.

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Instead, she was driving a mule wagon across northern Kansas. They had been lucky and seen no Indians, but that could always change. Besides, it soon developed that Luke was going to be as much trouble as an Indian. It was something she knew that Zwey hadn’t noticed. Zwey treated her kindly, insofar as he treated her at all. Now that he had got her to come on a trip he seemed well content. She didn’t have to do anything but be there, and he was surprised when she offered to cook, which she mainly did out of boredom and because Zwey and Luke were such dirty cooks she was afraid she would get poisoned if she didn’t take that chore into her own hands. Zwey exhibited no lustful intentions at all—he seemed happy just to rest his eyes on her at the end of the day.

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“Go get him, Woodrow,” Augustus said. “He’s west of here, probably in Colorado. You go get him and I’ll nurse these cows along until you get back. Now what’s that old cook doing?” They saw all the cowboys gathered around the wagon, which still dripped from its passage through the river.

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“That’s an independent pig,” Augustus said. “I see you still got that old cook.” “Yes, his food’s right tasty,” Call said. “Is the girl all right?” “She’s had an ordeal but she’s young,” Augustus said. “She won’t forget it, but she might outlive it.” “We’re a long way from any place we could leave her,” Call said.

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“Or it could just be the company he’s tired of,” Augustus suggested. “I’d buy him if he was for sale. I’ve always got along with mules.” “This mule ain’t for sale,” the cook said, looking the camp over. “I wisht all I had to do was live in a tent.” Without further ado, he turned and went back.

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“He’s getting tired of making this trip,” the cook said.

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“This is like living in a hotel, Lorie,” Augustus said. “We got people toting us meals as fast as we can eat them.” At that point the cook got careless and the little pack mule took a kick at him which barely missed.

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The next morning Wilbarger’s old cook came over with some breakfast. It was a fine morning, the sun up and the plains well dried out. Augustus stepped out of the tent, but Lorena was content to look through the flaps.

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“I’ll send the cook over with some breakfast,” he said. “By the way, you didn’t cross the path of a young sheriff from Arkansas, did you? He’s up this way somewhere, and I’ve been worried about him.” “You must be referring to July Johnson,” Augustus said. “We left him four days ago. He was headed on north.” “Well, he had a funny crew with him. I was just a little uneasy,” Wilbarger said. “I found him a likable man, but inexperienced.” “He’s got more experience now,” Augustus said. “Blue Duck killed his crew.” “Killed all three of them?” Wilbarger asked, startled. “I even offered that young boy a job.” “He should have took it,” Augustus said. “We buried them west of here.” “That Duck must be a hard son of a bitch,” Wilbarger said.He sat on his horse a moment, looking into the night. “I had a feeling young Johnson was inexperienced,” he said, and trotted off.

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“We’re about to eat,” he said. “It’s a free country, so my advice to you would be to make camp where you choose. I’ll borrow a pot from our cook and bring you some grub once you get settled.” “I’m much obliged,” Augustus said. “Noticed a tree in these parts?” “No, sir,” Wilbarger said. “If there was a tree in these parts I’d be sitting under it.” They made camp on the plain. Wilbarger was as good as his word. In an hour he returned with a small pack mule. Besides an ample pot of beefsteak and beans he brought a small tent.

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