But we're at peace with the Apache,
except for a few...

Mrs. Lowe, if you've got good sense...
you'll pack up you and that boy of yours
and come out with me.

There's trouble brewing
in the Apache lodges.

Vittorio, their main chief,
called a war council.

A full report of it is in that dispatch
I'm carrying.

But you don't know, we've always
gotten along splendidly with the Apache.

They drink and bring their horses
to our spring...

on their way north to the buffalo hunt.
I've never seen the great Vittorio,
but there've been plenty of Apaches here.

I've seen the great Vittorio,
before the treaty.

His horse had 40 scalps hung in its mane.
That was before the treaty.
We broke that treaty, us Whites.
There's no word in the Apache language
for lie, and they've been lied to.

If they rise, there won't be...
- a White left in the territory.
- They won't bother me.

Us, I mean. We always got along very well.
People I know, man and his wife,
got along real well for...

20 years. Then one day...
she upped and blew a hole in him...
big enough to drive a stagecoach through.
She got mad. The Apaches are mad.
Well, I have nothing to worry about,
I'm sure.

Nice to be sure.
Get out of the way.
- Strange dog you have.
- I don't have him.

- The two of you are together.
- He stays with me.

- He can smell an Indian at a half a mile.
- He smells Indians? I don't believe it.

Sure, lots of dogs smell Indians.
You can teach them.

Teach them? How?
First you get yourself a puppy and then...
you hire yourself a tame Indian
and cut a willow switch.

Then you get the Indian to beat the puppy...
with a willow switch four or five times
a day.

And when he grows up,
he'll always signal when he smells an Indian.

Beat a puppy. How cruel.
That's the way they do it.
Anyway, I don't believe
a dog can smell Indians.

I mean, as different from anyone else.