词汇：neck

n. 脖子；衣领；海峡

相关场景

“No, mostly girls here tonight,” Dan said. “Are you waiting for election day or what? Bring the goddamn horses.” Little Eddie brought them. The dawn was behind him, very faint but coming. Soon it was possible to make out the results of the battle. Wilbarger’s two men were dead, still in their blankets. One was Chick, the little weasel Jake remembered seeing the morning they brought the horses in from Mexico. He had been hit in the neck by a rifle bullet, Frog Lip’s, Dan said. The bullet had practically torn his head loose from his body—the corpse reminded Jake of a dead rabbit, perhaps because Chick had rabbitlike teeth, exposed now in a stiff grimace.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“What if I want five or six?” he asked, rubbing her neck with his warm hand. It relieved her—he was still the same. She could see it in his eyes.
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Newt saw that the cattle had crossed the wild Canadian, the river that had scared everybody, without much help from the cowboys, who were scattered here and there, naked, crouched under their saddles or, in some cases, their horses. It was a funny sight; Newt was so glad to be alive that suddenly he felt like laughing. Funniest of all was Pea Eye, who stood not thirty yards away, up to his neck in the river, with his hat on. He was just standing there calmly, waiting for the hail to stop.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Newt saw that the cattle had crossed the wild Canadian, the river that had scared everybody, without much help from the cowboys, who were scattered here and there, naked, crouched under their saddles or, in some cases, their horses. It was a funny sight; Newt was so glad to be alive that suddenly he felt like laughing. Funniest of all was Pea Eye, who stood not thirty yards away, up to his neck in the river, with his hat on. He was just standing there calmly, waiting for the hail to stop.
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The sound could make the hairs stand upon Pea Eye’s neck. “That’s right, Po. You do sing sad, for a happy man,” Pea Eye observed once, as the old man shook his gourd.
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He jumped down, pulled his rifle and cartridge rolls clear of the horse and dropped them in the buffalo wallow. Then he drew his knife, wrapped the bridle reins tightly around one hand, and jabbed the knife into the horse’s neck, slashing the jugular vein. Blood poured out and the horse leaped and plunged desperately but Augustus held on, though sprayed with blood. When the horse fell, he managed to turn him so that the horse lay across one end of the wallow, his blood pumping out into the dust. Once the horse tried to rise, but Augustus jerked him back and he didn’t try again.
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Fortunately, Webster’s neck broke when they whipped the horse out from under him, otherwise he could have stood there and laughed at them, for the limb of the mesquite sagged badly and both his feet drug the ground.
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All the while Roscoe slumped over his horse’s neck, snoring away. They were nearly on the outskirts of Fort Worth before he woke up, and it was not until July handed the prisoners over to the sheriff that he began to feel alive.
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“I dream about them,” Janey said, not reassured. “They just keep coming, and I can’t run.” Except for snapping turtles and sleep, she seemed to fear nothing. Many times coiled rattlers would sing at them as they traveled, and Janey would never give the snakes a glance. Old Memphis was more nervous about snakes than she was, and Roscoe more nervous than either one of them. He had once heard of a man being bitten by a rattlesnake that had gotten up in a tree. According to the story, the snake had dropped right off a limb and onto the man and had bitten him in the neck. Roscoe imagined how unpleasant it could be to have a snake drop on one’s neck—he took care to ride under as few limbs as possible and was glad to see the trees thinning out as they rode west.
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Twice, despite all Blue Duck’s caution, it seemed they had gone wrong. His horse started to bog, and then hers. But both times, by heavy spurring, Blue Duck got the big sorrel to lunge free, pulling her horse free. Once, in one of the lunges, she was thrown far up on her horse’s neck. But finally they found a solid crossing and trotted through the few yards of brown water.
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“Well, it’s a kind of game we’re talking about,” Augustus said. “Games are played for fun. You’ve thought about it as a business too long. If you win the card game you ought to pretend you’re a fancy lady in San Francisco who don’t have nothing to do but lay around on silk sheets and have a nigger bring you buttermilk once in a while. And what my job is is to make you feel good.” “I don’t like buttermilk,” Lorena said. To her surprise, Gus suddenly stroked her cheek. It took her aback and she put her head down on her knees. Gus put his hand under her wet hair and rubbed the back of her neck.
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Roscoe was half asleep in the saddle when a bad thing happened. Memphis brushed against a tree limb that had a wasp’s nest on it. The nest broke loose from the limb and fell right in Roscoe’s lap. It soon rolled off the saddle, but not before twenty or thirty wasps buzzed up. When Roscoe awoke, all he could see was wasps. He was stung twice on the neck, twice on the face, and once on the hand as he was battling them.
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“Fish him out, boys, otherwise we’ll have to go all the way to Montana without no pianer player,” he said—though privately he doubted his efforts would do any good. The wagon had landed smack on top of Lippy. If he wasn’t drowned he probably had a broken neck.
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Then she sat on him for several minutes, scratching at the chigger bites on his wet ankles. He soon sank right out of her, but Louisa was in no hurry to get up. She seemed in a quiet humor. Once in a while she clucked a time or two at the chickens. Roscoe felt his neck begin to itch from the weeds. A swarm of gnats hung right over his face, and Louisa considerately swatted them away.
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“You ain’t a bad-looking feller,” Louisa said. “Jim was prone to warts. Had ’em on his hands and on his neck both. So far as I can see you don’t have a wart on you.” “No, don’t believe so,” Roscoe admitted.
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Newt held his reins, still crying, and let Mouse do the work. He remembered Sean’s screams, and how much the snakes had looked like giant wiggly worms. When at last the cattle were started back toward the main herd the Captain put his horse back into the river, which startled Newt. He didn’t see how anybody could just ride back into a river that could suddenly be filled with snakes, but this time no snakes appeared. Newt saw that Mr. Gus and Deets had not moved, and wondered if Sean was dead yet. He kept feeling he ought to leave the cattle and go talk to Sean, even if it was too late for Sean to answer, but he was afraid to. He didn’t know what to do, and he sat on his horse and cried until he started vomiting. He had to lean over and vomit beneath his horse’s neck.
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Pea handed the boy down to Dish and Deets. Call quickly took his slicker off his saddle and they laid the boy on it. His eyes were closed, his body jerking slightly. Augustus cut the boy’s shirt off—there were eight sets of fang marks, including one on his neck.
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Then the screams stopped abruptly as Sean slipped under the water—his voice was replaced almost at once by the frenzied neighing of the horse, which began to thrash in the water and soon turned back toward the far bank. As he gained a footing and rose out of the water he shook three snakes from his body, one slithering off his neck.
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It was true that the crew presented an odd appearance, though Newt wouldn’t have compared them to chickens. Most of them were burned a deep brown on the face, neck and hands, but the rest of their bodies, which the sun never touched, were stark white. Bert Borum was the funniest-looking without a shirt, for he had a round fat belly with curly black on it that ran right down into his pants.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
While July was waiting for Peach to leave, the rooster, annoyed at being held so tightly, gave Peach’s hand a couple of hard pecks. Without an instant’s hesitation Peach grabbed him by the head, swung him a few times and wrung his neck.
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“If Jake gets killed, tell her I will come,” Xavier said—there was always that prospect. After all, he had only met Therese because her first husband had fallen off a roof and broken his neck. A man like Jake, a traveler and a gambler, might meet a violent end at any time.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“He might have choked on a pepper,” Augustus said. “Them that can’t be killed by knives or bullets usually break their necks falling off the porch or something. Remember Johnny Norvel, dying of that bee sting? I guess Johnny had been shot twenty times, but a dern bee killed him.” It was true. The man had rangered with them, and yet the bee sting had given him a seizure of some kind, and no one could bring him out of it.
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“We’ve heard a rumor that Jake is back and on the run,” Joe Rainey said. He wore a full beard, which at the moment was shiny with pork drippings. Joe had a habit of staring straight ahead. Though Call assumed he had a neck joint like other men, he had never seen him use it. If you happened to be directly in front of him, Joe would look you in the eye; but if you were positioned a little to the side, his look went floating on by.
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Jake immediately stepped over and helped her undo the buttons. It was plain she wasn’t the first woman he had undressed, because he even knew how to unhook the dress at the neck, something most of her customers would never have thought of.
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“I wisht it was a bigger tub,” he said. “We could have us a wash together.” Lorena had never heard of such a thing. It surprised her how coolly Jake stripped off for his wash. Like all men who weren’t pure gamblers, he was burned brown on his face and neck and hands, and was fish-white on the rest of his body.
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