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.
- You or me, for instance.
- Well, they can.

As a matter of fact,
Indians can smell White people.

- I don't believe it.
- Well, it's true.

I'm part Indian, and I can smell you
when I'm downwind of you.

- That's impossible.
- No, it isn't impossible, Mrs. Lowe.

You baked today.
I can smell fresh bread on you.

Sometime today you cooked with salt pork.
Smell that on you, too.
You smell all over like soap.
You took a bath. And on top of that,
you smell all over like a woman.

I could find you in the dark, Mrs. Lowe,
and I'm only part Indian.