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Man Called Horse A CD1

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Oh, Wakantanka,|Great Spirit of the Sun--
source of all life, created|in violence, pleasure and pain
which then takes life|to sustain life,
continuing the eternal cycle|of life and death--
I stand humble and obedient|before you.
Make me worthy!
How many is that?
Six, Your Lordship.
Maddock.
I'm sorry.
''John.''
You may address me as ''John.''
Yes, sir.
It won't happen again.
You slip at least|once a day.
How many weeks have I been|dinning it into you.
Yes, Sir John.
Six, did you say?
In a row.
That's good shootin', John.
Thank you, Maddock.
You may address me as ''Joe.''
Joe.
What did you say that was?
Prairie chicken.
Grouse.
Huh?
Grouse.
At home in England,|I'd be shooting grouse.
It just occurred to me,
I've traveled halfway|around the world
at great expense
simply to kill|a different kind of bird.
Well, what's wrong with that
if you ain't got|nothing better to do?
Oh, I ain't, Joe.
For five years, I ain't got|nothin' better to do.
You musta picked up a lot|of beans
somewhere.
Not only beans, Joe
but family titles, family|property, family position...
all picked up,|all inherited.
Everything I ever wanted|in life I've bought,
including you three.
In England, I looked up|to God and royalty
and down upon everybody else.
Well, what you been doin'|for five years?
Looking, Joe.
Just looking.
In 1820, I committed|the unpardonable sin
of resigning my commission|in the Guards.
It wasn't an earned commission|anyway.
In my family,|it came with birth.
So, here I am...|shooting birds.
Your Northwest Territory...
it is beautiful.
Hey, Ed...
I dumped the water outta that|damned tub into his tent.
All over his tent...
And look what I found.
Oh.
Rum.
That spell ''rum'', don't it?
R-U-M.
Yeah.
Hey, Ed... draw.
Still drunk as coots.
I'm going to have|to talk to those two.
In a pinch, I've known|'em to drink coal oil.
Oh-- beat the drums|and sound the brass,
here come one big horse's ass.
What were you two firing at?
Nothin' in particular.
That was an accident.
Even at this range,|I'm inclined to believe you.
How long would it take us|to go back to St. Louis?
Maybe a month if,|if we don't do no more huntin'
and that wagon holds up.
We'll start in the morning.
If the wagon breaks down,|abandon it and the team.
We'll travel by riding horses|if necessary.
Is them orders, John?
Those are orders, Maddock.
Well, you've boozed us|out of another job.
We ain't shuttin' down camp.
He guaranteed us|four months wages.
You'll get your money.
That's one thing|the dude ain't is-- cheap.
Yeah, and if he runs|a little short,
his family can always|sell the ''cawstle'.
Oh, I never seen such a fella.
He won't even chew tobacco.
That water's powerful cold,|Your Lordship.
Thank you, Maddock.
I can assure you I've been bred|to get used to it.
This ain't gonna be no bath.
He's goin' ice-skating.
Listen, you rum-heads,|that's enough.
We was just warnin' him.
Somethin' must have spooked him.
Coyote maybe.
Naw. He seen Tin-pan Morgan|goin' by.
Oh, my God.
Christ!
I've had enough!
You bunch of bloody bastards.
I'm not a horse!
I'm not an animal.
No! No!
Whatever the bloody hell|the name is.
Man! Man!
I am a man!
{y:i}Homme, oui.
{y:i}Pauvre bête. Imbêcile.
{y:i}Une fois, tu I'as eu|{y:i}la chance. Une fois.
{y:i}Pas content.
{y:i}Alors maintenant peau faire|{y:i}la grande promenade, promenade?
{y:i}Qui es tu?
{y:i}Amêricain? Huh?
American.
Don't be absurd.
{y:i}Anglais.
{y:i}Anglais?
{y:i}Oui.
Merde!
{y:i}Arrête. Reviens.
Eh, eh, eh, eh.
Me speak 'Anglais'.
Good 'Anglais'.
Well, when you address me,|would you kindly speak it?
Yes. I will speak it.
You lucky chief like angry.
You yell, make strong.
Lucky not kill.
Yes, very lucky.
I can hardly believe|my good fortune.
Who the blazes are you?
Moi. Batise.
Prisoner, five years.
Five.
Well, you speak French
in a most peculiar way.
You're not French.
{y:i}Non. Sacre Bleu, non.
{y:i}Papa Francais.
Blue eyes, see.
{y:i}Mais maman...
Flathead Indian.
Pure. See.
Family all killed.
These Indians. These Sioux.
I can well believe it.
Did you never try to escape?
Yes.
Cut leg.
Oh, yes.
Zip.
Me try to run again...
zip, zip, other leg.
After crawl. Crawl.
Ah.
But now me very clever fellow.
Play crazy, see?
Indian don't|kill crazy man...
Crazy man no hunt, no work.
Got spirit. Wakantanka...
Good luck for village.
So you gave up.
Me give up nothing.
Nothing!
Me very clever fellow.
But you, oh...
Great important Englishman.
Yes, you go, yes.
Like fox.
Dodge hounds.
And you know what happen?
Mean, bad lnjuns out there.
Shoshone, Blackfoot,|Rikaree.
Cut off everything--
zip, zip, zip, zip, zip.
But you no man|anymore anyhow.
You workhorse for old woman.
Buffalo Cow Head.
Maybe she...
maybe she...|maybe she zip anyway...
Stallion no good for workhorse.
Everybody be happy,|except you maybe.
No, no.
No! No! No! No!
It's rancid fat.
Don't you have any dried...|dried meat?
Batise...
What in the hell's|going on?
Black Eagle come|for Yellow Hand sister.
Sister?
I thought she was one|of his wives.
No, no. That one|Running Deer.
She is sister.
Other one is wife,|Thorn Rose.
Now, Black Eagle buy sister.
Buy her?
Yes. Marriage.|Marriage Indian way...
Must buy wife.
Very big important|for Black Eagle.
He only chief number two.
If she have him,|he be Yellow Hand brother.
{y:i}Très important.
Big trouble...
Yellow Hand say no.
Work hard, eh? Water?
Yes...
now that her son is dead,|she has no other man.
Nobody protect her.|Nobody care.
Cut off finger. Scavenge.
Come winter, she die.
Like you, one time|big grand English...
Now horse, toujours...
Pour toujours|et tous les jours.
Shut up!
Stop that idiotic giggling,|you bloody fool
and listen to me.
I've had enough|of your nonsense.
Now, you play your fool|to them, but not to me.
I'm going|to get out of here
and you're going|to help me.
And why I do this?
Because you want|to get out, that's why.
Now, these other lndians|around here you spoke of
we'll need a war party|to get through them.
I don't suppose|these Sioux have any guns?
What they know about guns?
Never see guns.|Must fight close.
More brave to touch enemy.|They count coup.
You look, hmm?
You like, hmm?
I have a big idea...
You marry Running Deer.
Then maybe Yellow Hand|give you war party...
All that for you,|grand white gentleman.
She say no|to Black Eagle
and give herself|away to horse.
Hey, but, ah, you got mane.
Not even old squaw|kiss hair on face.
I have a lot to learn, Batise,
and you are going to teach me.
Give them to your mother.
For her with my compliments.
I didn't think that giving|flowers was so humorous.
Um...
I'm sorry.
Me make love to her?
Good God! No.
Batise! Batise...
What is this about her shoe?
What is she|trying to tell me?
She say she have no hole|in her moccasin.
What the hell is|that supposed to mean?