老人家两只眼睛盯着熊熊的炭火,拿火钳拨了一下炉子。他想起好多事来。从相貌上也看得出他是很有阅历的:两只小眼睛炯炯有神,额上纹路很深,两道眉毛又黑又浓。这位穿着整齐的老人,年纪该近八十了吧。头上没有一根黑发,两撇下垂的胡髭,全都白了,只有嘴角边的一撮被尼古丁熏得黄黄的。一见之下,他这个人本身就能给人很深印象。宽宽的肩膀,挺出的胸脯,表明他当年在朋辈中出类拔萃的勇迈之气依然还在。 “今年的雪下得真见鬼!”他说道,眼睛始终没有离开炭火。“这个冬天一定要大冷了……头场雪才过,鹿岭就已经封塞不通了……” Old eyes staring at the burning charcoal, take fire tongs a bit of stove. He remembered many things. From the appearance can see that he is well experienced: two small eyes sparkling, forehead deep lines, two eyebrows dark and thick. The well-dressed old man, aged nearly eighty of it. No black hair on his head, two mustaches and drooping mustaches, all white, only a handful of lips by the mouth smoked yellow by nicotine. At a glance, he alone can give a very deep impression. Wide shoulders, breast-shaped, showing that he was outstanding in the peerless courage is still still. “This year’s snow is really a hell! ” He said, eyes never left charcoal. “This winter must be big cold ... ... the first snow before, deer ridge has been blocked ... ...”