词汇:hearing

n. 听力;审讯,听讯

相关场景

“It’s my job,” Augustus said. “I doubt there’s many of them. I just hope Blue Duck is there.” Roscoe could not believe what he was hearing. He felt very scared as it was, and yet this stranger was preparing to ride off by himself.
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“A dern old man beat her and used her hard, and that’s why she run off,” Roscoe elaborated. “Can we go to a saloon? I’d sure fancy a beer.” July took him to a saloon and bought him a beer. Now that he had Roscoe alone he felt curiously reluctant to mention Elmira. Even hearing her name spoken would be painful.
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Joe was startled. He had never expected to be offered a job with a cow outfit, and hearing the words was a thrill. But of course he couldn’t take it—he had been assigned to July.
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It was low, like the lowing of that bull she kept hearing at night, but there was death in it too.
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He had already caught her horse, without her hearing. Lorena felt so scared she was afraid she couldn’t walk. She didn’t want to look at the man—she might start running and then he would kill her. He had the worst voice she had ever heard.
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Then, without her hearing a step or feeling any danger, Blue Duck was standing in front of her, the rifle still held in his big hand like a toy. She saw his legs and the rifle when she looked up, but a cloud had passed over the moon and she couldn’t see his face—not at first.
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“No, she lives in hell, where I sent her,” Po Campo said quietly, startling everyone within hearing. “Her behavior was terrible, but she made good biscuits.” There was a moment of silence, the men trying to decide if they were supposed to believe what they had just heard.
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“I don’t want to go to that cow camp,” she said. “They all look at me.” Augustus was watching the ridge where Blue Duck had disappeared. “I should have just shot him,” he said. “Or he should have shot me. He was the last person I was expecting to see. We had heard that he was dead. I been hearing for years that he was dead, but that was him.” Lorena didn’t believe the man was interested in her. Even if men avoided looking at her she could feel their interest, if they had any. The man called Blue Duck had been more interested in the horses.
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Only a month had passed, and in the last few days he had made it perfectly clear that he had no interest in ever hearing her talk again and would prefer that she didn’t. It made her sad. If she was always going to be so mistaken about men, she would be lucky ever to get to San Francisco.
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In this case, Roscoe didn’t know if it was even a family dispute that he was hearing. The old man had just said he bought the girl, though of course slavery had been over for years, and in any case the girl was white. The girl seemed to be putting up a good fight, despite her whimpering, for the old man was breathing hard and cursing her when he could get his breath. Roscoe wished more than ever that he had never spotted the cabin. The old man was a sorry customer, and the girl could only be having a miserable life with him.
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“Oh, now, John, I wouldn’t threaten these gentlemen if I was you,” Ned Tym said, appalled at what he was hearing. “This is Captain Call and Captain McCrae.” “Well, what’s that to me?” the man said, whirling on Ned. “I never heard of them and I won’t have these old cowboys coming in here and making this kind of mess.” “They ain’t old cowboys,” Ned said. “They’re Texas Rangers. You’ve heard of them. You’ve just forgot.” “I don’t know why I would have,” the man said. “I just lived here two years, miserable ones at that. I don’t necessarily keep up with every old-timer who ever shot at an Indian. It’s mostly tall tales anyway, just old men bragging on themselves.” “John, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ned said, growing more alarmed. “Captain Call and Captain McCrae would be the last ones to brag.” “Well, that’s your opinion,” John said. “They look like braggarts to me.” Call was beginning to feel annoyed, for the young man was giving them unmannerly looks and talking to them as if they were trash; but then it was partly Gus’s fault. The fact that the bartender had been a little slow and insolent hadn’t necessarily been a reason to break his nose. Gus was touchy about such things though. He enjoyed having been a famous Texas Ranger and was often put out if he didn’t receive all the praise he thought he had coming.
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“You was never grateful for nothing, Jake,” Augustus said. “Here I returned a fifty-dollar horse that you couldn’t have found in a week, and all you can do is gripe about my company.” “Well, there’s such a thing as too much of your dern company,” Jake said, looking to see if Lorie was out of hearing.
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“She mostly sat in the loft,” Roscoe said, mainly to hear himself talk. Hearing himself was better than hearing Peach.
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“Well, July,” she said, “I hope you won’t wait too long to start. Just because you’re a little yellow don’t mean you can’t ride a horse.” “You Johnsons marry the dernest women,” Roscoe said, when Peach was safely out of hearing.
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“I wouldn’t have wanted to miss hearing you talk, Gus,” Pea said, though he could not offhand remember a single thing Gus had said over the years. But he could remember, night after night, drowsing off to the sound of Gus’s voice.
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“I know that, honey,” Augustus said. “The minute I looked up the road and seen Jake coming, I knew you and him would settle in. Jake’s a good hand to settle in with, I admit—a sight better than me. But the fact is he went out to the cow camp at the wrong time and Call put him to work. Call don’t appreciate Jake’s restful qualities like you and me do. He’s been fretting for a week because Jake wasn’t working, and now that he’s got him you can bet he’ll keep him a day or two.” Lorena looked at Lippy, wishing he wasn’t there. But Lippy sat, astonished at what he was hearing. His lip hung down like a flap of some kind, as it always did when he forgot himself.
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“Well, I swear,” Call said, stunned. “Is that the truth?” “I ain’t seen the corpse,” Augustus said, “but I imagine it’s true. Jasper Fant rode in looking for work and had the news, though the scamp didn’t give it to me until I had wasted most of the night.” “I wonder what killed him,” Call said. Pedro Flores had been a factor in their lives off and on for thirty years, though probably they had not actually seen him more than six or seven times. It was surprising, hearing he was gone, and though it should have been a relief, it wasn’t, exactly. It was too much of a surprise.
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Lorena wanted to ask him why his breath smelled like cedar but she didn’t know if she ought, since he had just come to town. But then she asked him, a little shocked at hearing her own voice make the question.
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Pea Eye was so startled by what he was hearing that he almost fell off the fence.
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It embarrassed Call that his own hearing had never been as good as it should be. He listened but could hear nothing at all.
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was Deets. Nobody expected Deets to talk, which left him free to pay attention, and he paid careful attention, often noticing things that Call had overlooked, or confirming judgments that Call felt uncertain about. Even Gus was quick to admit that Deets had the best hearing in the outfit, although Deets himself claimed to rely just as much on his sense of smell—a claim Augustus poked fun at.
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“Talk up, Gus,” Jake said. “If you talk a little louder they’ll probably bring the horse herd to us, only they’ll be riding it.” “Well, they’re just a bunch of bean eaters,” Augustus said. “As long as they don’t fart in my direction I ain’t worried.” Call turned south. The closer they were to action, the more jocularity bothered him. It seemed to him that men who had been in bad fights and seen death and injury ought to develop a little respect for the dangers of their trade. The last thing he wanted to do at such times was talk—a man who was talking couldn’t listen to the country, and might miss hearing something that would make the crucial difference.
“说吧,格斯,”杰克说。“如果你说大声一点,他们可能会把马群带到我们这里,只是他们会骑着它。”“好吧,他们只是一群吃豆子的人,”奥古斯都说。“只要他们不朝我的方向放屁,我就不担心。”电话转向南方。他们越接近行动,他就越觉得好笑。在他看来,那些经历过糟糕战斗、目睹过死亡和受伤的人应该对他们行业的危险产生一点尊重。在这种时候,他最不想做的就是说话——一个说话的人听不到国家的声音,可能会错过一些能产生关键影响的东西。
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Dish belted his pants and strode grimly around the saloon to the north side. It was necessary to go all the way around the building to get out of hearing of the bed sounds. He fully meant to kill the little weasel when he came out of the saloon.
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Now he was hearing it, standing with his shirttail half tucked in, while someone else was making it with Lorena. Memories of her body mingled with the sound, causing such a painful feeling in Dish’s breast that for a second he couldn’t move. He felt almost paralyzed, doomed to stand in the heat beneath the very room he had been hoping to enter himself. She was part of the sound—he knew just what chords she contributed to the awful music. Anger began to fill him, and for a moment its object was Xavier Wanz, who could at least have seen that Lorena had a cotton-tick mattress instead of those scratchy cornshucks, which weren’t even comfortable to sleep on.
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From the corner just over his head, where Lorena had her room, came a crackling and a creaking sound such as two people can make in a bad bed with a cornshuck mattress over a weak spring. Lorena had such a bed; only last night it had made the same noise beneath them, loud enough that Dish wondered briefly, before pleasure overtook him, if anybody besides themselves was hearing it.
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