The Burrowers Page #4

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We don't know how to kill them.

I want to go home.

They took Maryanne from home.

Home isn't safe.

Silence.

Oh, man.

Jesus. Coffey.

Thank God.

What?

They made me...

made me drink.

- Drink?

- Yeah.

What do you mean, drink?

You poisoned the little fish...

...to poison them.

It didn't work.

It was the sunlight.

It burned them alive.

The Utes poisoned them.

They put something in Parcher

that would make them sleep.

If that Indian dies

we won't find the poison.

Sh*t.

Nothing's easy.

I can make it to Fort Bismarck

and back with a doctor in two days.

You think that Indian

can live that long?

I don't know.

Can you?

Get to it.

Come on.

Get up, you lazy bastard.

Come on.

Hey.

Parcher's Irish.

I'll be damned.

Parcher's Irish.

My God, man, they told me

you were here.

I'm glad you made it, son.

I'm afraid you're too late

for Will Parcher, though.

I know.

Yeah. What the hell

did them Indians do?

We buried him proper, though.

The man was wiser

than I gave him credit.

It took us four days

and no small pain.

...to get them Sioux to tell us

what Parcher guessed right off.

Yeah, well, we got scouts.

...routing out the Ute

in the north as we speak...

...regular Indians.

They can whoop

to beat the band...

...but can't fight

worth sh*t.

Where's Callaghan?

Who?

He was your cook.

He was part of this...

Oh, Walnut, Walnut.

God rest him.

Walnut... He...

...he would have owed me

his life, had he survived.

What?

We had to amputate his leg.

...and he up and died

on us.

The man was hysterical...

...delirious before he passed.

Yeah.

Of course.

we never did find them Stewarts.

Yeah, well...

I doubt we ever will.

They was probably dead

before we even started.

Yeah.

Well, I guess all we can do

is make sure.

...them Indians never do

something like this again.

# Hush-a-bye, don't you cry. #

# Go to sleep, you little baby. #

# When you awake

we will have cake. #

# And all the pretty

little horses. #

# Dun and bay, sorrel and gray. #

# A pall with six white horses. #

# Dun and bay, sorrel and gray. #

# And all the pretty horses. #

# Way down yonder, down in the meadow #

# There's a poor little lamb. #

# The bees and flies

and plucking out its eyes. #

# Poor little lamb

crying for its mother. #

# Crying for its mother. #

# Mama gone and Daddy gone. #

# Oh, you miss our little baby. #

# So when you wake we will have cake. #

# And all the pretty little horses. #

# Dun and bay, sorrel and gray. #

# A pall with six white horses. #

# Dun and bay, sorrel and gray. #

# And all. #

# Those pretty little horses. #

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