Mohawk Page #3

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So you know I will do

what needs to be done.

And I promise you,

I will get you

through this safe.

But you had best

lower those hands

before I tear them off.

This is bad bread.

We are retrieving

a prisoner.

Nothing more.

[eerie music]

[battle cry]

[tense music]

[thud]

[gun shot]

Leash this dog.

[grunting]

Where are they, redskin?

Hmm?

Where's that squaw

and the Redcoat, hmm?

[screaming in pain]

[choking]

Don't make me look

for your tongue myself, hmm.

Maybe he doesn't understand.

Ask him where that squaw

and the Redcoat are.

Um, the Mohawk

are dirty dealers,

lairs...

They're cannibals.

Ask him!

[stuttering in Mohawk]

Where is your... squaw?

Aren't you worried about her,

being out here in the woods,

all alone?

- [struggles to speak]

- No.

But you should be.

I knew there was

a tongue in there.

She'll bring everyone.

If that squaw

is fetching more Injuns,

I think we best get back to

Fort George real quick-like.

Yeah,

Colonel or not, Holt,

you are one dumb

son of a b*tch.

We need to get out

of here double-fast,

before a whole mess

of redskins

come down

and scalp the lot of us.

So, uh...

You want a horde

of bloodthirsty red devils

harrying us all the way

to Fort George?

We've got a lead on them.

I say we march to the fort.

It's two days.

Come tonight,

these woods are gonna

become a butcher's yard.

Capturing them two

is the only way

to ensure our survival.

So, um, how are we

gonna catch up to 'em?

We aren't.

They'll come to us.

[screaming in pain]

We need to go back.

You will go to London.

You will not die for us.

[distant screaming]

He would not want us

to go back.

[sinister chuckling]

[wincing in pain]

[thud]

[grunting]

He ain't gonna talk.

He doesn't have to.

He just has to sing.

His pals will come

to the dance.

Open his mouth.

You go ahead.

You'll do it better.

Go on, boy.

Make him sing.

Beal, we ain't...

I mean, we ain't supposed

to torture these Injuns,

are we?

Do you see

President Madison here?

Huh?

The only person in power

in these parts is your daddy.

He's your goddamn president!

You sure this

is a good idea?

Are you my boy...

or are you my son?

[sniffs]

[grunting]

[gurgling, screaming]

[coughing]

You're a damn fine

conductor, Myles.

[gun shot]

[intense music]

Get him!

Please don't hurt me.

[grunting]

[gun hammer clicking]

Please go away.

You will not shoot me.

I will.

[knife dropping]

I'm unarmed.

I don't care!

I'm with child.

[breathing heavily]

Run...

Shitfire!

There's no goddamn

way around!

What's the matter with you?

Huh?

You see a chipmunk?

What the Hell is this?!

I couldn't bear to listen

to him choke any more.

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