词汇：post

n. 岗位；邮件；标杆

相关场景

“Bad men would have a better team,” Clara said. “Find any colts?” Cholo shook his head. His hair was white—Clara had never been able to get his age out of him, but she imagined he was seventy-five at least, perhaps eighty. At night by the fire, with the work done, Cholo wove horsehair lariats. Clara loved to watch the way his fingers worked. When a horse died or had to be killed, Cholo always saved its mane and tail for his ropes. He could weave them of rawhide too, and once had made one for her of buckskin, although she didn’t rope. Bob had been puzzled by the gift—“Clara couldn’t rope a post,” he said—but Clara was not puzzled at all. She had been very pleased. It was a beautiful gift; Cholo had the finest manners. She knew he appreciated her as she appreciated him. That was the year she bought him the coat. Sometimes, reading her magazines, she would look up and see Cholo weaving a rope and imagine that if she ever did try to write a story she would write it about him. It would be very different from any of the stories she read in the English magazines.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“That wagon won’t be here for an hour,” Clara said. “Go see about your pa. His fever comes up in the afternoon. Wet a rag and wipe his face.” Both girls stood looking at her silently. They hated to go into the sickroom. Both of them had bright-blue eyes, their legacy from Bob, but their hair was like hers and they were built like her, even to the knobby knees. Bob had been kicked in the head by a mustang he was determined to break, against Clara’s advice. She had seen it happen—he had the mare snubbed to a post with a heavy rope and only turned his back on her for a second. But the mare struck with her front feet, quick as a snake. Bob had bent over to pick up another rope and the kick had caught him right back of the ear. The crack had sounded like a shot. The mare pawed him three or four times before Clara could reach him and drag him out of the way, but those blows had been minor. The kick behind the ear had almost killed him. They had been so sure he would die that they even dug the grave, up on the knoll east of the house where their three boys were buried: Jim and Jeff and Johnny, the three deaths Clara felt had turned her heart to stone: she hoped for stone, anyway, for stone wouldn’t suffer from such losses.
“那辆马车要一个小时才能到，”克拉拉说。“去看看你爸。他下午发烧了。把抹布弄湿，擦他的脸。”两个女孩都站在那里默默地看着她。他们讨厌进病房。他们俩都有一双明亮的蓝眼睛，这是鲍勃留给他们的遗产，但他们的头发和她的一样，他们的身材也和她一样，甚至到了膝盖的小瘤。鲍勃违背克拉拉的建议，被一支他决心要打破的野马踢到头上。她亲眼目睹了这一切——他用一根沉重的绳子把母马拖到柱子上，只转过身去看了她一秒钟。但母马用前脚猛踢，速度像蛇一样快。鲍勃弯下腰去捡另一根绳子，一脚踢到了他的耳朵后面。裂缝听起来像枪声。母马抓了他三四次，克拉拉才够到他，把他拖开，但这些打击都很小。耳朵后面的踢腿几乎要了他的命。他们非常确定他会死，甚至在埋葬他们三个儿子的房子东边的小丘上挖了坟墓：吉姆、杰夫和约翰尼，克拉拉的三次死亡让她的心变成了石头：不管怎样，她希望石头，因为石头不会遭受这样的损失。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The clerk shook his head. “Not so far as I know,” he said. “He’s up in Ogallala or Deadwood or somewhere, where there’s lots of whores and not too much law. I imagine he’s got five or six whores in his string right now. Of course he could have died, but he’s my nephew and I ain’t heard no news to that effect.” “Thank you for the loan of the pencil,” July said. He turned and walked out. He went straight to the livery stable and got his new horse, whose name was Pete. If Elmira wasn’t in Dodge she might be in Abilene, so he might as well start. But he didn’t start. He rode halfway out of town and then went back to the third saloon from the post office and inquired about the woman named Jennie. They said she had moved to another bar, up the street—a cowboy was even kind enough to point out the bar. A herd had been sold that morning and was being loaded onto boxcars. July rode over and watched the work a while—slow work and made slower by the cattle’s long horns, which kept getting tangled with one another as the cattle were being forced up the narrow loading chute. The cowboys yelled and popped their quirts, and the horses behaved expertly, but despite that, it seemed to take a long time to fill a boxcar.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
But he hadn’t died, and eventually he turned and went back to the post office, which was empty except for an elderly clerk with a white mustache.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He walked along the dusty street for a few minutes, wiping the tears out of his eyes with his shirtsleeve. One or two men observed him curiously. It was obvious that he was upset, but no one said anything to him. He remembered walking into the post office in Fort Worth and getting the letter that told him about Ellie. Since then, it had all been puzzlement and pain. He felt that in most ways it would have been better if he had died on the plains with the rest of them. He was tired of wandering and looking.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
But to his surprise, the minute he stepped inside the door of the post office his optimism gave way in a flash to bitter depression. In trying to think of what he would say in his letter he remembered all that had happened. Roscoe was dead, Joe was dead, the girl was dead, and Ellie not found—maybe she too was dead. All he had to report was death and failure. At the thought of poor Roscoe, gutted and left under a little pile of rocks on the prairie, his eyes filled with tears and he had to turn and walk back out the door to keep from embarrassing himself.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The first thing July did was buy a decent horse. He went to the post office, for he felt he owed Fort Smith an explanation as to why he had not come back. For some reason he felt a surge of optimism as he walked down the street to the post office. Now that he had survived the plains it seemed possible that he could find Ellie after all. He had lost all interest in catching Jake Spoon; he just wanted to find his wife and go home. If Peach didn’t like it—and she wouldn’t—she would just have to lump it. If Ellie wasn’t in Dodge she would probably be in Abilene. He would soon catch up with her.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I guess you don’t remember me,” Augustus said, falling in beside him. “I’m Captain McCrae. We shot at one another all afternoon once, up on the Brazos. You was in one thicket and me and Captain Call was in the next one. We pruned the post oaks with all that shooting, and then we stuck you in jail and you crawled right out again.” “I don’t like you much,” Aus Frank said, still trundling. “Put me in the goddamn jail.” “Well, why’d you rob that bank?” Augustus said. “It ain’t Christian to rob your neighbors. It ain’t Christian to hold a grudge, neither. Wasn’t you born into the Christian religion?” “No,” Aus Frank said. “What do you want?” “A white girl,” Augustus said. “Pretty one. An outlaw carried her off. You may know him. His name is Blue Duck.” Aus Frank stopped the wheelbarrow. He needed to spit and leaned over and spat a large mouthful of tobacco juice directly into the hole of a red-ant bed. The ants, annoyed, scurried about in all directions.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
That night Augustus stopped to rest his horse, making a cold camp on a little bluff and eating some jerky he had brought along. He was in the scrubby post-oak country near the Brazos and from his bluff could see far across the moonlit valleys.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Wilbarger started at once and loped several miles without speaking. Joe loped with him. The country was open, lightly spotted with elm and post oak. They came to a fair-sized stream and Wilbarger stopped to water his horse.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Joe was sitting on the board sidewalk outside the post office, watching the steady stream of buggies, wagons and horseback riders go by.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“It ought to be a hanging crime for the post office to work so slow,” the impatient fellow said. “I could have carried this letter by hand in less time than this.” Just as he said it, the old man found July’s letter under a mail bag. “Some fool set a mailbag on it,” he said, handing it to July.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
At the post office July debated several more minutes and finally took his letter in, purchased a stamp and mailed it. The postal clerk was an old man wearing eyeglasses. He scrutinized the address on the letter and then looked at July.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
It seemed to Joe that they rode past about fifty saloons, looking for the post office. Fort Smith only had three saloons and one livery stable, whereas Fort Worth had a big wagon yard and stores galore. They even met a small herd of wild-looking longhorn cattle being driven right through the streets by four equally wild-looking cowboys. The cattle, for all their wild looks, behaved so well that they didn’t get to see the cowboys actually rope one, a sight Joe longed to see.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I’m glad there’s some left,” he said. “I know the hide hunters have about killed them off.” Late that day they rode into Fort Worth. The number of houses amazed Joe, and the wide, dusty streets were filled with wagons and buggies. July decided they ought to go to the post office first, though at the last minute he became so worried about his letter that he almost decided not to mail it. He wanted badly to mail it, and yet he didn’t want to.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Actually, as much as anything, July wanted to stop in Fort Worth to post her a letter he had written. It seemed to him she might be getting lonesome and would enjoy some mail. Yet the letter he composed, though he had labored over it several nights, was such a poor composition that he had debated sending it. He hesitated, for if it struck her wrong she would make fun of it. But he felt a need to write and lamented the fact that he was such a poor hand at it. The letter was very short.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The Captain had gone to the lots ahead of them, since it took a little time to get the Hell Bitch saddled. He had her snubbed to the post when Deets and Newt arrived. When Newt walked in the barn to get a rope, the Captain turned and handed him a holstered pistol and a gun belt.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I don’t,” Call said. “Not from you.” “Call, you ain’t never learned,” Augustus said. “There’s plenty of gentle horses in this world. Why would a man with your responsibilities want to waste time with a filly that’s got to be hobbled and blindfolded before you can even keep a saddle on her?” Call ignored him. In a moment the mare tentatively lifted the near hind foot with the thought of kicking whatever might be in range. When she did he caught the foot with the rawhide rope and took a hitch around the snubbing post. It left the mare standing on three legs, so she could not kick again without throwing herself. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, trembling a little with indignation, but she accepted the saddle.“Why don’t you trade her to Jake?” Augustus said. “If they don’t hang him, maybe he could teach her to pace.” Call left the mare saddled, snubbed, and on three legs, and came to the fence to have a smoke and let the mare have a moment to consider the situation.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“If she was blindfolded she might bite the post next time instead of you,” Augustus said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He left Jake sleeping and strolled down the middle of Hat Creek. As he passed the corrals, he saw Dish straining at the windlass to bring a big bucket of dirt out of the new well. Call was in the lot, working with the Hell Bitch. He had her snubbed to a post and was fanning her with a saddle blanket. Dish was as wet with sweat as if he’d just crawled out of a horse trough. He’d sweated through the hatband of his hat, and had even sweated through his belt.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Border nights were so dry you could smell the dirt, and clear as dew. In fact, the nights were so clear it was tricky; even with hardly any moon the stars were bright enough that every bush and fence post cast a shadow. Pea Eye, who had a jumpy disposition, was always shying from shadows, and he had even blazed away at innocent chaparral bushes on occasion, mistaking them for bandits.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Another unusual thing about Gus was that he could practically tell what she was thinking. In this case he looked abashed and dug a ten-dollar gold piece out of his pocket, which he pitched over to her. Lorena felt wary. It was five dollars too much, even if he did decide to set his post. She knew old men got crazy sometimes and wanted strange things—Lippy was a constant problem, and he had a hole in his stomach and could barely keep up his piano playing. But it turned out she had no need to worry about Gus.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“’I god, it’s hot,” Gus said. “We could all be living in Canada just as cheap. I doubt I’ve even got the energy to set my post.” Why come then? Lorena thought.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Tonight, I, Angel Dupree, photographer for the N. Y. Post, - - had the chance to study grace and generosity in dire circumstances.
>> 倾城佳话 It Could Happen to You (1994) Movie Script
9. Amid the mists and coldest frosts, With barest wrists and stoutest boasts, He thrusts his fists against the posts, And still insists he sees the ghosts.
>> 绕口令Can you read the following tongue twisters fluently?