词汇：leg

n. 腿；支柱

相关场景

“Well, is it the first one you’ve ever seen?” the woman asked. “You’ll have more to worry about than grasshoppers if you wake this baby again.” The woman was rather thin, but anger put color in her cheeks. The girls finally were subdued and the woman looked up and saw him, lifting her chin with a bit of belligerence, as though she might have to tie into him too. Then she saw his discolored leg, and her look changed. She had gray eyes and she turned them on him with sudden gravity.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The old man looked mainly at his leg. July had forgotten how ugly it looked—he had even forgotten it was still yellowish and almost bare, for he had cut his pants leg off when the leg was so swollen.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
That afternoon he stood up, but he couldn’t touch his right foot to the ground. He managed to belly over the horse and get down to the river. It was three days before he had the strength to go back and get the saddle. The effort of getting to the river had exhausted him so much he could barely undo a button. Early one morning he shot a large crane with his pistol, and the meat put a little strength in him. His leg had not returned to normal, but it had not fallen off either. Hecould put a little weight on it, but not much.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
There was no shade on the bluff. He covered his face with his hat and lay back against his saddle, sweating, and ashamed of his own carelessness. He grew delirious and in his delirium would have long talks with Roscoe. He could see Roscoe’s face as plain as day. Roscoe didn’t seem to blame him for the fact that he was dead. If he himself was soon going to be dead, too, it might not matter so much. July didn’t die. His leg felt terrible, though. In the night came a rainstorm and he could do nothing but huddle under his saddle blanket. His teeth began to chatter and he couldn’t stop them. He almost wished he could go on and die, it was so uncomfortable. But in the morning the sun was hot, he soon dried out. He felt weak, but he didn’t feel as if he were dying. Mainly he had to avoid looking at his leg. It looked so bad he didn’t know what to think. If a doctor saw it he could probably just cut it off and be done with it. When he tried to bend it even a little, a terrible pain shot through him—yet he had to get down to the river or else die of thirst, even though it had just rained.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
When he awoke it was to severe pain and a right leg so swollen that he had to cut his pants open to see what was wrong.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Near the Republican River he had his second piece of bad luck. He had camped on a little bluff, exhausted, and after hobbling the horse, fell asleep like a stone. He didn’t sleep well. In the night he felt a stinging in his leg but was too heavy with sleep to care—red ants had gotten him several times.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I don’t know if there is one,” the cowboy said. “We just got here last night. I know about Boot because they were talking about him in the saloon.” Ellie began to try and climb over the side of the wagon. “Help me, Zwey,” she said. “I wanta see Dee.” She got one leg over the side board of the wagon and suddenly began to feel weak again. She clung to the board, trembling.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The big man just looked at her silently. Is he mute? Clara thought. But later the man with the scarred face came to the house and said no, the big man just didn’t talk much. “Name’s Zwey,” he said. “Big Zwey. I’m Luke. I got my face bunged up coming, and now I hurt this dern leg. Her name’s Elmira.” “And she’s a friend of Mr. Boot?” Clara asked. They put Elmira in bed but she hadn’t yet opened her eyes.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Get down—at least you’ll want to water your stock,” Clara said. “You’re welcome to stay the night, if you like. You can easily make town tomorrow. I’d say you all could use a rest.” “What town would that be?” Luke asked, easing down from the wagon seat. He had twisted a leg several days before, running to try and get a better shot at an antelope—it was all he could do to walk.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He walked over to Jake and put a hand on his leg for a moment.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“It’s all right, though,” Augustus said. “It’s mostly bones we’re riding over, anyway. Why, think of all the buffalo that have died on these plains. Buffalo and other critters too. And the Indians have been here forever; their bones are down there in the earth. I’m told that over in the Old Country you can’t dig six feet without uncovering skulls and leg bones and such.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Well, Aus, I see you’ve been busy,” Augustus said. “You’ll be so rich one of these days some bank will come along and rob you. Who do you sell these bones to?” Aus Frank ignored the question. While Augustus watched, he pushed his wheelbarrow up to the bottom of the pyramid of bones and began to throw the bones as high as possible up the pyramid. Once or twice he got a leg bone or thigh bone all the way to the top, but most of the bones hit midway and stuck. In five minutes the big wheelbarrow was empty. Without a word Aus Frank took the wheelbarrow and started back across the prairie.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“You get where you don’t smell ’em after a while,” he said. “I don’t hardly even notice it, I’ve smelled ’em so much.” Luke had a little quirt and was always nervously popping himself on the leg with it. “You skeert of Indians?” he asked.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“No, I’ve shot many a sassy bandit with this pistol,” he said. “I’m glad to have my hat, though. It don’t do to go into a scrape bareheaded.” The rider was close enough by then that she too could see the occasional flash of sun on the saddle. A few minutes later he rode into camp. He was a big man, riding a bay stallion. Gus had been right: he was an Indian. He had long, tangled black hair and wore no hat—just a bandana tied around his head. His leather leggings were greasy and his boots old, though he wore a pair of silver spurs with big rowels. He had a large knife strapped to one leg and carried a rifle lightly across the pommel of his saddle.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“What’s that?” Roscoe said, thinking that if he spoke up the old man might let be. But it didn’t work. The scuffling continued and the girl kept whimpering. Then it seemed they fell against the cabin, not a foot from Roscoe’s head. “If you don’t lay still I’ll whup you tomorrow till you’ll wisht you had,” the old man said. He sounded out of breath. Roscoe tried to think of what July would do in such a situation. July had always cautioned him about interfering in family disputes—the most dangerous form of law work, July claimed. July had once tried to stop a woman who was going after her husband with a pitchfork and had been wounded in the leg as a result.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“He’s a mudhead, ain’t he,” Pea said, carefully wiping his knife on his pants leg. “Now I guess he’ll be mad at me for ten years because I ruined his coat.” Lippy was limp as a rag and hadn’t moved a muscle. Newt felt sick to his stomach. Once more, on a perfectly nice day with everything going well, death had struck and taken another of his friends. Lippy had been part of his life since he could remember. When he was a child, Lippy had occasionally taken him into the saloon and let him bang on the piano. Now they would have to bury him as they had buried Sean.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
It was in his first moment of blindness that the cattle began to run, as if pushed into motion by the river of sand. Newt heard Soupy’s horse break into a run, and Mouse instantly was running too, but running where, Newt had no idea. He dug a finger into his eyes, hoping to get the sand out, but it was like grinding them with sandpaper. Tears flowed, but the sand turned them to mud on his lashes. Now and then he could get a blurred glimpse out of one eye, and at the first glimpsewas horrified to discover that he was in among the cattle. A horn nudged his leg, but Mouse swerved and nothing more happened. Newt stopped worrying about seeing and concentrated on keeping his seat. He knew Mouse could leap any bush not higher than his head. He felt a horrible sense of failure, for surely he had not done his job. The Captain had not meant for him to stay near the head of the herd; he was there because he had not moved quick enough, and it was his fault if he was doomed, as he assumed he was. Once he thought he heard a whoop and was encouraged, but the sound was instantly sucked away by the wind—the wind keened like a cry, its tone rising over the lower tone of the pounding hooves. When Newt began to be able to see again, it did him little good, for it was then almost pitch-dark.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Once in a while, though, he dropped back a little. His bandana got sweaty, and the dust caked on it so that he felt he was inhaling mud. He had to take it off and beat it against his leg once in a while. He was riding Mouse, who looked like he could use a bandana of his own. The dust seemed to make the heat worse, or else the heat made the dust worse.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Jake stroked her leg again. “Well, we will,” he said. “But don’t Gus come up with some notions! He thinks I ought to bring you along on the drive.”Then he looked at her again, as if trying to fathom what was in her thoughts. Lorena let him look. Tired as he was, with his shirt open, there seemed nothing in the man to fear. It was hard to know what he himself feared. He was proud as a turkey cock around other men, irritable and quick to pass an insult. Sitting on her bed, with his clothes unbuttoned, he seemed anything but tough.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Dern, I’m sandy,” he said. “I should have bathed in the river.” He sighed, poured himself a whiskey and sat with his back against the wall, idly running a hand up and down her leg.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
At first Xavier was cheered by all the new customers, until it occurred to him that they would only be there for a week or two. Then the thought of how empty the saloon would soon be filled him with gloom, and he stood by the door most of the night, his washrag dripping down his leg.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He made the Rainey ranch by sundown, a far more cheerful place than the Spettle homestead. Joe Rainey had a twisted leg, the result of an accident with a buckboard, but he got around on the leg almost as fast as a healthy man. Call was not as fond of Maude, Joe’s fat red-faced wife, as Augustus was, but then he had to admit he was not as fond of any woman as Augustus was.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Newt shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Last night was the first time I even got to go. I never even shot at a man, or a horse either.” “You shoot the horse,” Sean said, when his brother Allen rode up. Allen said nothing. He was thinking of his little wife, Sary, whom he had left in Ireland. She had wept for weeks before he left, thinking it wrong that he should leave her. He had got his dander up and left anyway, and yet now he missed her so that tears as wet as hers sprang from his eyes almost every time he thought of her. Though normally a cheerful and even a merry man, the absence of Sary had affected him more than he had supposed anything could. In his mind’s eye he saw her small redheaded figure moving through the chores of the day, now cooking spuds, now wringing milk from the tired teat of their old milk cow. He ignored all talk when he was thinking of Sary, refusing to let it distract him. How would she feel if she could know what he had got himself into, sitting on a horse with a heavy gun beneath his leg?
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The sight of a man so addled as to try and get away on a hobbled mule was too much for Deets. He slapped his leg with his big hand and laughed a deep laugh, resting his rifle for a moment on the low adobe wall.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“That’s right,” he said. “I ’spect they’ll make me boss any day. And the first thing I’ll do is raise your wages.” Deets slapped his leg and laughed, the thought was so funny. When the rest of the outfit finally wandered down from the house they found the two of them grinning back and forth at one another.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇