词汇：fifty

n. 五十；五十个；编号为50的东西

相关场景

He began to try and work out in his mind how many he could let them have without risking dishonor. If they wanted them all, of course, he would just have to fight and be killed, for he could never face the Captain if he had been responsible for the loss of fifty head. But if they could be bought off with two or three, that was different.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He went back to get the cattle, and when he glanced again at the boys, they looked funny. They didn’t have hats. A second later he realized why: they were Indians, all of them. Newt felt so scared he went weak. He hated life on the plains. One minute it was pretty, then a cloud of grasshoppers came, and now Indians. The worst of it was that he was alone. It was always happening, and he felt convinced it was Mouse’s fault. Somehow he could never stay with the rest of the boys when there was a run. He had to wander off by himself. This time the results were serious, for the five Indians were only fifty yards away. He felt he ought to pull his gun, but he knew he couldn’t shoot well enough to kill five of them—anyhow, the Captain hadn’t shot when the old chief with the milky eye had asked for a beef. Maybe they were friendly.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Finally, like all other storms, the grasshopper storm did end. The air cleared—there were still thousands of grasshoppers fluttering around in it, but thousands were better than millions. The ground was still covered with them, and Mouse still mashed them when he walked, but at least Newt could see a little distance, though what he saw wasn’t very cheering. He was totally alone with fifty or sixty cattle. He had no idea where the main herd might be, or where anything might be.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Get in the tent,” Augustus said. He was holding the terrified horses. “Get in and pile whatever you can around the bottom to keep ’em out.” Lorena ran in, and before Augustus could follow, grasshoppers covered the canvas, every inch. Augustus had fifty on his hat, though he tried to knock them off outside the tent, and more on his clothes. He backed in, hanging to the lead ropes as the horses tried to break free.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I guess you’re getting mellow in your old age,” he said. “Now you’re feeding Indians.” “They were just Wichitas,” Call said, “and they were hungry. That steer couldn’t have kept up anyway. Besides, I knew the old man,” he added. “Remember old Bacon Rind?—or that’s what we called him, anyway.” “Yes, he was never a fighter,” Augustus said. “I’m surprised he’s still alive.” “He fed us buffalo once,” Call said. “It was only fair he should have a beef.” They were fifty yards from the tent, so Call drew rein. He couldn’t see the girl, but he took care not to come too close.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Them’ll be our fifty-dollar gold pieces,” he said. “These here will be tens and these little ones can be fives. This is a high- stakes game we’re playing.” “Don’t you cheat, Gus,” Lorena said suddenly. “If you cheat I won’t give you no pokes.” Augustus was so pleased to hear her talk that tears came into his eyes. “We’re just playing for buttons, honey,” he said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Not enough buffalo,” Augustus said. “It wasn’t two years ago that they had that big fight here, and now look at it. It looks like it’s been empty fifty years.” The only signs of life were the rattlesnakes, of which there were plenty, and mice, which explained the snakes. A few owls competed with the snakes for the mice.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Go rope that dern bull, if you’re so good at roping,” Needle Nelson said, referring to the Texas bull. The bull seemed to resent it when the cowboys sat in groups—he would position himself fifty yards away and paw the earth and bellow.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The shot missed the white man but wounded one of the Indian horses. The horse’s scream unnerved the shooter, who moved his tripod back another fifty yards. Augustus kept low and waited for darkness, which was only another hour away.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
That was an inconvenient development. Augustus had to hastily dig himself a shallow hole on the other side of the horse, where the blood and the blowflies were worse. They were not worse, though, than the impact of a fifty-caliber bullet, several of which hit the horse in the next hour. Augustus kept digging. Fortunately the man was not a particularly good shot—many of the bullets sang overhead, though one or two hit his saddle and ricocheted.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Finally one rode off to the east, returning about an hour later with a white man who set up a tripod and began to shoot at him with a fifty-caliber buffalo gun.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Deets understood that. He would never fire on a fleeing man, whereas Call would pursue a man fifty miles and kill him if the man had attacked him. Deets fought carefully and shrewdly—he would have known the trick about fresh blood. But Deets’s great ability was in preventing ambushes. He would seem to feel them coming, often a day or two early, when he could have had no particular clues. “How’d you know?” they would ask him and Deets would have no answer. “Just knew,” he said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Sure enough, when they were fifty or sixty yards away, their horses caught the first whiffs of fresh blood, still pumping from the torn throat of the dying horse. They slowed and began to rear and shy, and as they did, Augustus started shooting. The Indians were dismayed; they flailed at the horses with their rifles, but the horses were spooked. Two stopped dead and Augustus immediately shot their riders. He could have asked for no better target than an Indian stopped fifty yards away on a horse that wouldn’t move. The two men dropped and lay still. Augustus replaced the two cartridges and wiped the sweat out of his eyes. The blood had bought him a chance—without it he would have been overrun and killed, no matter how fast or well he had shot. Now the Indians were trying to force their horses into a charge, but it wasn’t working—the horses kept swerving and shying. Some tried to circle to the south, and when they turned, Augustus shot two more. Then one Indian did a gallant thing—he threw a blanket over his horse’s head and got the confused horse to charge blind. The man seemed to be the leader; at least he carried the longest lance. He charged at the wallow, rifle in one hand, lance in the other, though when he tried to lever the rifle with one hand he dropped it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Now that’s a new trick,” Augustus said. “Spitting on ants. I guess that’s all you’ve got to do besides haul bones.” Aus Frank resumed his walk, and Augustus followed along, amused at the strange turns life took. Soon they came down into the valley of the Canadian. Augustus was amazed to see an enormous pyramid of buffalo bones perhaps fifty yards from the water. The bones were piled so high, it seemed to him Aus Frank must have a ladder to use in his piling, though he saw no sign of one. Down the river a quarter of a mile there was another pyramid, just as large.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“This is a big-looking town,” Roscoe said. “I guess I can buy myself some clothes.” “Not for no fifty cents,” the woman said. “That’s nothing but a sack the girl’s wearing. You ought to get her something decent to wear while you’re buying.” “Well, I might,” Roscoe said. It was true that Janey’s dress was a mere rag.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Roscoe’s clothes were practically in ribbons, so much so that the woman laughed when she saw him. She offered to mend his clothes for another fifty cents, but Roscoe had to decline, since he had nothing to wear while the work was being done.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I guess we ought to ask them if they’ve seen Roscoe,” July said. “He could be south of us. Or they might have news of Jake.” They loped over to the wagon just as the wrangler turned loose the horse herd. The horses, fifty or sixty of them, were jumping and frisking, kicking up their heels and nickering at one another, glad to be moving. July and Joe waited until the wrangler had them headed north before trotting on toward the wagon. The cook wore an old black hat, and had a long, dirty beard.
>> 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
But Po Campo had caught a big sackful, and when his grease was hot he sprinkled them into it five or six at a time. When he judged they were done he used the tip of a big knife to flick them out onto a piece of cheesecloth. Soon he had forty or fifty fried, and no one rushing to eat them.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“No, the cook’s over there,” Pea said. “He’s got a fair lead on the donkey.” Sure enough, a short man was walking through the grass some fifty yards ahead of the donkey. He was traveling slow: it was just that his donkey was traveling slower. The man wore a sombrero with a hole in the top.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Somehow the daydream had become a night dream, and the night dream was ending. He woke up very frightened, though at first he didn’t know why he was frightened. He just knew that something was wrong. He still sat under the tree, the gun in his hand, only there was a sound that was wrong, a sound like drumming. For a second it confused him—then he realized what it was: the cattle were running. Instantly he was running too, running for Mouse. He wasn’t sure how close the cattle were or whether they were running in his direction, but he didn’t stop to listen. He knew he had to get to Mouse and then ride back to Lorena, to help her in case the cattle swerved her way. He began to hear men yelling to the west, obviously the boys trying to turn the cattle. Then suddenly a bunch of running cattle appeared right in front of him, fifty or sixty of them. They ran right past him and on toward the bluffs.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I’m after July Johnson,” he said. “His wife run off.” “I wish she’d run this way,” the woman said. “I’d put her to work helping me clear this field. It’s slow work, doing it alone.” And yet the woman had made progress. At the south edge of the field, where Memphis was tied, forty or fifty stumps were lined up.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“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.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Call was annoyed with Gus, who had still not returned. Pea had reported seeing him just after dawn, riding east in evident health. Call noticed the Texas bull, standing about fifty yards away. He was watching the two pigs, who were rooting around a chaparral bush. Probably they were trying to root out a ground squirrel, or perhaps a rattlesnake. The bull took a few steps toward them, but the pigs ignored him.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Then Mouse began to move again and Newt heard the splashing of a horse ahead. He didn’t know if it carried a friendly rider, but Mouse seemed to think so, for he was trotting through the hock-high water, trying to locate the other horse. In one of the weakening flashes of lightning Newt saw cattle trotting along, fifty yards to his right. Suddenly, with no warning, Mouse began to slide. His back feet almost went out from under him—they had struck a gully, and Newt felt water rising up his legs. Fortunately it wasn’t a deep gully; Mouse regained his balance and struggled through it, as scared as Newt.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇