The Mountain Men Page #4

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$3. I don't go no higher.

You got buffalo robes?

I give you $20 apiece for them.

I never thought I'd see the day

when buffalo brought more than beaver.

You're robbing him blind, Fontenelle.

I never traded cutthroat like that.

Take it while you can, boys.

Next year you may not be able

to sell beaver at all.

The way things are going,

this may be your last rendezvous.

- What d'you mean?

- Silk.

- What's that?

- Silk hats.

They're not making them

out of beaver no more, Bill.

Silk's the fashion now in London.

A heap of fat meat can't shine forever.

- I seen it coming.

- Beaver'll shine again, Henry.

Actually, it seems reasonable

that if there's no demand...

Silk. What the hell is silk?

Don't you know nothing?

Silk. Made out of worms.

Injuns coming! Injuns coming!

- A**hole. Sh*t.

- Blackfeet.

Blackfeet? They found us.

No, them are Crow, for Christ's sake.

Ain't we learned you nothing?

That's Iron Belly's village.

Sure do make a spectacle, don't they?

Who in goddamn is that?

God damn, that's Medicine Wolf!

He come west with me in '23.

We raised hell

from South Forks to Three Pass, we did.

Hey, Medicine Wolf!

Let me through there.

No. Come on, let me through. Here.

Let him through! Let him through!

Let him through!

Medicine Wolf, how the hell are you?

God damn!

Here, old horse, have a drink.

God damn!

Mean as if he had a red-hot poker

up his a**hole.

- Well, listen.

- I'm a mad dog!

Maybe Iron Belly help you.

He knows the beaver like his own children.

Christ, I thought he was dead.

He outlive seven squaws.

Last winter he had a son.

- Say, what the hell is that stuff?

- Kinnikinnick.

- It tastes like buffalo sh*t.

- It is.

- You should've heard him howl!

- Oh, that's good!

- I don't care if it's true or not!

- Iron Belly?

Iron Belly, it's me, Tyler.

- How the hell old is he?

- 110.

Look at that.

That's Spanish armour.

Iron Belly.

Iron Belly, it's Bill Tyler.

- Bill Tyler?

- Yeah. It's me.

- Bill Tyler?

- The same.

I thought you were dead.

He Who Runs With the Wind,

speak your heart.

Beaver's getting mighty scarce, Iron Belly.

That damn Fontenelle's paying

next to nothing for the plews.

- Ought to fight him.

- Outfits are going sky-high.

Vermilion and beads and scalping knives

and such are mighty dear these days.

Some say fur is down for good...

...beaver won't never shine again.

I am old, Bill Tyler.

Beaver gone. Soon I gone, too.

Damn it, Iron Belly,

it can't all be trapped out.

In the mountains of the River of Wind...

...there is a valley.

The Wind River Range?

It's the land of our enemies, the Blackfeet.

Their hearts are bad,

their eyes red with blood.

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