While you're sleeping,
I'll move your possibles over to my tent.

Pete Britton was scouting with C troop.
Wintered with old Pete once
up on the Divide. Ornery cuss.

Them indians you took that pennant offen.
- Dead Indians?
- Finally.

- Hi, Pete.
- Hi, Hondo.

Broke my heart when I heard you made it.
Your pap know you started out
against this so-called whiskey?

I ain't seen him for a month.
I know you haven't. Come here,
I got a message for you.

Leave him be, Hondo,
I can't make no money scouting.

Aw, these other fellows'll excuse you.
Come on over at the bar.

I won't. I'm out almost $100.
- That figures, with Buffalo in the game.
- Wait a minute.

These shirts are hard to come by.
- What'd you hit me for?
- 'Cause I know you.

Leather it.
No, don't leather it.
No wonder them Apaches
call him Emberato.

- What does it mean?
- Bad temper.

I should've let him shoot you.
That's the second time I've tangled with
that mouthy no-good...

- What's his name?
- Calls himself Lowe, Ed Lowe.