When the redness receded and he opened his eyes again, he heard a piano playing in the distance. He was in bed in a small hot room. Through the open window he could see the great Montana prairie. Looking around, he noticed a small fat man dozing in a chair nearby. The man wore a black frock coat sprinkled with dandruff. A bottle of whiskey and an old bowler hat nearly as disreputable as Lippy’s sat on a small bureau. The fat man was snoring peacefully.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“The barber says there’s a drummer with an accordion staying in the hotel,” Lippy said. “If he ain’t too attached to the accordion, I might buy it. We could make some fine music back at the wagon if we had an accordion to play.” “You oughta buy a new-hat,” Jimmy Rainey said boldly, for Lippy was still wearing the disgraceful bowler he had worn in Lonesome Dove.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

As the boat inched its way up the Arkansas, the brown river gradually narrowed, and as it narrowed the boatmen and whiskey traders grew more restless. They drank so much whiskey themselves that Elmira felt they would be lucky to have any left to sell. Though she often felt them watching her as she sat at the end of the boat, they let her alone. Only Bowler, the chief trader, ever spoke more than a word or two to her. Fowler was a burly man with a dirty yellow beard and one eyelid that wouldn’t behave. It twitched and jerked up and down erratically, so that looking at him was disconcerting: one minute he would be looking at you out of both eyes, and then the eyelid would droop and he would only be looking with an eye and a half.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

When they got back to the wagon Augustus was oiling his guns. Lippy fanned himself with his bowler, and most of the other hands were just sitting around wishing it was cooler.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

When he went out he found Lippy sitting in the wagon with his bowler on his head.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I never tolt on you, Lorie,” he said. He looked like he might cry too. You’ll just have to cry, she thought. He took his bowler off and turned it around and around in his hand until it made her nervous.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Well, you’ve come in by yourself, I see,” Lippy said, pushing his dirty bowler back off his wrinkled forehead.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“Hooray,” he said. “Come on in, son. I hope you’ve the start of a crowd. If there’s anything I can’t stand it’s a dern gloomy saloon.” Lippy, content beneath his bowler, turned and shook his lip in Dish’s direction for a moment. Then he blew the shavings of his corn off the bar.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

“I swear, Jake,” Augustus said, looking at the bay horse, “you’ve rode that horse right down to the bone.” “Give him a good feed, Deets,” Call said. “I judge it’s been a while since he’s had one.” Deets led the horses off toward the roofless barn. It was true that he made his pants out of old quilts, for reasons that no one could get him to explain. Colorful as they were, quilts weren’t the best material for riding through mesquite and chaparral. Thorns had snagged the pants in several places, and cotton ticking was sticking out. For headgear Deets wore an old cavalry cap he had found somewhere—it was in nearly as bad shape as Lippy’s bowler.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Anyway, I’ve known you to be sly, Dish. You’ve probably got two dollars and just don’t want to spend it.” Lippy finished his concert and came and joined them. He wore a brown bowler hat he had picked up on the road to San Antonio some years before. Either it had blown out of a stagecoach or the Indians had snatched some careless drummer and not bothered to take his hat. At least those were the two theories Lippy had worked out in order to explain his good fortune in finding the hat. In Augustus’s view the hat would have looked better blowing around the country for two years than it did at present. Lippy only wore it when he played the piano; when he was just gambling or sitting around attending to the leak from his stomach he frequently used the hat for an ashtray and then sometimes forgot to empty the ashes before putting the hat back on his head. He only had a few strips of stringy gray hair hanging off his skull, and the ashes didn’t make them look much worse, but ashes represented only a fraction of the abuse the bowler had suffered. It was also Lippy’s pillow, and had had so many things spilled on it or in it that Augustus could hardly look at it without gagging.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇

Oh, my God. The bowlers, thank God, only count as one.
>> 倾城佳话 It Could Happen to You (1994) Movie Script