A Genius, Two Friends, and an Idiot Page #5

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What a fantastic idea.

- A triad.

- Not what I had in mind.

Are you in or out?

Well, if there's a chance

to snuff somebody out. Who's the guy?

- His name is Major Cabot.

- Is that the famous Indian hunter?

Someone who without a doubt deserves

our complete respect.

Look here, Bill. If you can get

all of $300 or a bit more together

we could make

a fast $300,000 out of it.

How much is that again?

The amount the major didn't give

to the Injun Agency.

What do I have to do?

- You've been in the army.

- Right. Like all white men.

Rank?

Deserter.

- How'd you like to be a colonel?

- Could be nice for a change.

What do you say, Lucy?

Where you gonna get the uniform?

That's on its way

but you'll need whiskers.

Whiskers?

Like these?

The guy you're standing in for

has a real set.

Then I'll grow my own.

Just give me time.

All the time you want

wouldn't give you whiskers.

They don't grow on Injuns.

On me they do!

Because I'm not an Indian!

- What is it?

- Shh!

Someone's coming.

A wagon or a stage...

That's what the stupid redskins do

to hear far-off sounds.

In the age of the telegraph they still

throw themselves on the ground.

- Coming this way?

- Who?

How do I know?

You believe you can put your ear

to the ground and hear a stagecoach?

- An escort?

- It's being followed.

- How many riders? Injuns?

- Four. No, the horses are shod.

- Joe, they're shooting!

- Yeah, I know.

How the Christ can you know

without your ear to the ground?

They're shooting at a colonel

with a red beard.

See? When you're not an Indian

you get it wrong.

Where are you? There's the coach

and there's the idiot.

But where are the four riders?

Here we are, Steam Engine.

Mortimer!

What are you doing

with the beads on?

It's the fashion.

But what ain't never the fashion

is witnessing.

Throw down your gun.

You shouldn't have seen

what you just saw.

Why? What did I just see?

You saw the colonel.

You saw us made up in beads.

Oh, you got beads on, huh?

I swear to God I never even noticed.

- In any case, you noticed us.

- Me?

No! No!

- So who the hell are you talking to?

- Myself.

I always talk to myself.

You know what prairie folk are like.

I talk and I listen.

Hoping that someone somewhere

will hear and answer me.

For the sake of the old days

when we worked together.

Remember?

Mortimer.

Jelly Roll will hate you

for even thinking about such an idea.

Why don't you answer me?

- Let's cut it short.

- No! It's a joke.

No!

Stop!

Don't shoot.

He's my brother.

Where did you get hold

of a sister like her?

Come on. Let's have a better look.

Be a good girl.

Bring up the curtains.

To save his life and make us happy

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