Well, a lot for one day.
Night, ma'am.
Morning. Getting an early start.
Be sure and tell that little man
goodbye for me.

I ought to wake him to say goodbye to you.
Was it me, I'd let him sleep.
Youngsters grow sleeping,
but you do what you want to.

He was so delighted with that whistle
you made for him.

Glad to hear it. He and I got along just fine.
It's more like a flute than a whistle.
It ranges almost the full scale.

I learned to make them when I was
living with the Mescalero.

My squaw used to make them
for every kid in the lodge.

- You lived with the Apache?
- Five years.

- And you had an Indian wife?
- Wife, squaw...

I took the liberty of borrowing a few feet
of rope off of that coil in the lean-to.

- Gladly pay you for it, if you let me.
- 'Course not.

The hills are so beautiful today.
Odd how clear they always are
after a dust storm.

Must have been very interesting
living with the Apache.

I liked it.
- This Indian wife you have...
- Had. She's dead.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up
an unhappy memory.

I can't remember anything unhappy
about Destarte.

Destarte? How musical. What does it mean?
You can't say it except in Mescalero.
It means morning.

But that isn't what it means, either.