The Scalphunters Page #5

All tied up, with the crawling snakes.

And the bloodthirsty buzzards.

And the hungry coyotes.

You wouldn't do that.

Leave me to die, all alone. Would you?

You're Joe Bass. You can move

mountains. You'll be all right.

Cet off my horse, you son of a b*tch!

You know something, Joe Bass?

You are the most stubborn, love-yourself

man that ever walked Cod's creation.

And somebody just naturally ought to bust

some sense into your hard-boned head.

Somebody ought to just naturally bust

some sense into my hard-boned head?

You wanna try?

Hey, you jughead! Come back here.

Yeah. I wanna try.

All right, Joseph Lee. Cet 'em up.

Protect yourself. Cet your hands higher.

Ow!

Ow!

Indian fighting. Like it?

Let me help you.

Argh! Aaargh!

Can't see, can you?

Aaargh!

Aaaargh!

That ain't fair!

I'm gonna bust you on the jaw for that.

"See the superiority

of the white-skinned race. "

"You're a mealy-mouthed,

shufflebutt slave. "

Whoa! Whoa!

Damn you, Jim Howie. What the hell was

so important about a bunch of lousy furs?

Kate.

Over there.

Time.

Wait a minute. I hear something.

Wait a minute. I really do hear something.

What the hell. They're only men.

Indian man.

I don't know how many wives

you got now,

but you're gonna have the damnedest

white squaw in the Kiowa nation.

You black Comanche!

Where are you?

Two Crows! Ain't you dead?

I'm sure glad to see you, Two Crows.

Hey, wait a minute. Them's my furs.

Cood hunting, Joe Bass.

Hey, wait a minute!

Wait a minute. Wait. Hold it.

You dirty redskins!

You know something?

There's two cases of whiskey

on that wagon.

I'd say by tonight

there's going to be a lot of drunk Indians.

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