He might be a god or he might be a special chief -- that's why we are thinking of having a talk with him.

DUNBAR (V.O.) 

It is the loneliest of times...

 but I cannot say that 

I am unhappy.

 EXT. PRAIRIE - DAY

 Just as Dunbar did on his trip out with Timmons, someone is running a palm over the tips of the tall prairie grass. This hand, however, is red.

 A lone Indian is standing in the grass, his pony at his side. 

He is a real Indian; 

tough, wild and free. 

He is a person of special maturity. He radiates wisdom and is a man of responsibility in his community. 

He is a Sioux medicine man. 

He is KICKING BIRD.

 EXT. RIVER BANK - DAY

 Dunbar is squatting naked at the edge of the stream, pounding the dirt out of his trousers on a little rock ledge. He rises, wringing out the pants, and wades across the river.

 On the opposite bank he spreads the pants on a low bush. Then he looks along the river. For some distance every bush and shrub is draped with the lieutenant's laundry, all of it drying in the sun.

 EXT. SEDGEWICK - DAY

 The spectacular face of Kicking Bird is staring at something.

 He's looking thoughtfully at the "new" Fort Sedgewick; the tidy grounds, the great awning, the repaired corral. The beautiful, buckskin standing inside.

 EXT. RIVER - DAY

 Comfortable with his nakedness, Dunbar is meandering along the stream in no particular hurry. 

He's very white. 

His skin practically 

sparkles in the sun.

 Dunbar is making his way up the bluff. The steepest part is at the lip and here he drops to all fours.

 Dunbar's face comes into view. He freezes.

 Someone is creeping under the shade of the awning... an aboriginal man.

 Dunbar's head pops down behind the bluff.

 The lieutenant is down on his naked haunches. His heart is pounding in his ears. Sweat has broken out on his face. His mouth is dry as ash.

 He's playing back images in fragments. A deerskin shirt, strands of hair sewn along each sleeve. Fringed leggins. A dark, faded breechclout. Moccasins with beading. A single, large feather drooping behind a head of shiny, black hair. Braids wrapped in fur. A lethal stone club hanging from a red hand. No eyebrows on a magnificent, primitive face.

 Dunbar stays in a crouch, trying to think on jellied legs. His breathing has quickened. His mouth is open.

 A horses' whinny startles him.

 Ever so slowly, the lieutenant peers over the bluff.

 The aboriginal man is in the corral. He's walking slowly toward Cisco. One hand is held out reassuringly, the other is grasping a rope. He's making gentle, cooing sounds and is only a step or two from being able to loop his line over the horse's neck.

 DUNBAR You there!

 Kicking Bird jumps straight into the air. As he lands he whirls to meet the voice that startled him.

 Dunbar is coming. His hands are clenched and his arms are swinging stiffly at his sides.

 Kicking Bird has turned to stone at the sight of this horror. With a sharp intake of breath, he staggers back a few steps. Then he turns and runs, tearing through the corral fence as if it were made of twigs. He leaps onto his horse and quirts the pony into full gallop.

 Dunbar is watching from the yard. His jaw is clenched, his hands are still fisted.

 The great grassland is empty. Kicking Bird is gone.

 INT. SUPPLY HOUSE - DAY

 The first of three carbine boxes is lugged off the stack.

 EXT. PRAIRIE - DAY

 The three boxes are stacked on the open prairie. Suddenly a shovelful of dirt flies out of an unseen spot next to the crates. Another flying shovelful. And another.

 DUNBAR (V.O.) 

Have made first contact 

with A Wild Indian. 

One came to The Fort and 

tried to steal My Horse. 

Do not know how many more are in the vicinity but I am taking steps for another visitation. Am burying excess ordnance, lest it fall into enemy hands.

 The last square of sod is placed carefully on the surface of the earth. Dunbar drives a bleached rib bone into the ground at an angle just in front of his cache.

 Dunbar steps back from his work. The replaced sod is invisible. The guns will not be found.

 EXT. PRAIRIE - DAY

 The Lieutenant sits atop Cisco scouting along the bluff. Fort Sedgewick lies in the background.

 INT. QUARTERS - DAY

 Dunbar's journal lies 

open on his bunk. 

We hear a digging sound 

in the background. 

The Lieutenant is facing the wall of his quarters. Using a bayonet as a cutting tool, he has carved a window out of the sod. He's nearly finished and is just tidying up.

 DUNBAR (V.O.) 

Have made all the preparations I can think of. 

I cannot mount an adequate defense 

but will try to make 

a big impression 

when They come. 

Waiting.

 Finished, he retreats to his bunk and sits staring across at his new window. He glances at the journal by his side and has a thought. He picks it up and starts to write.

 DUNBAR (V.O.) The man I encountered was a magnificent looking fellow.

 EXT. TEN BEARS' LODGE - DAY

 An old Indian man sits in the shade outside his lodge. His skin is leathery, his hair grey and wispy but his eyes are bright as diamonds. He is TEN BEARS, well past sixty, but still strong enough to be the head man. He is, for the most part, oblivious to the GRANDCHILD squirming in his lap.

 He's smoking a long-stemmed pipe, but the main object of his interest is an old woman squatting next to him... PRETTY SHIELD. She's pounding away at something in a bowl.

 Ten Bears looks up to notice Kicking Bird. The medicine man is passing not far away and Ten Bears' eyes follow him carefully, not glancing away until Kicking Bird has ducked into his lodge.

TEN BEARS 

Kicking Bird has been keeping to himself these last few days. I do not like to see our medicine man walking so alone.

The old woman looks up from her pounding but does not respond.

TEN BEARS 

What does his wife say?

PRETTY SHIELD 

He is keeping to himself.

Ten Bears gives his wife a challenging look and she bristles.

PRETTY SHIELD 

That's what she says.

 Ten Bears accepts this. Then he looks down at the bowl.

TEN BEARS 

Make sure that meat is soft... 

my teeth hurt.

Ten Bears looks once more at the entrance of Kicking Bird's lodge.

 INT. KICKING BIRD'S LODGE - DAY

Kicking Bird sits next to the fire playing with his son but he is preoccupied with something.

There is a rustle of movement at the tent flap, and Ten Bears peers in.

TEN BEARS 

May I come in?

The little boy races over to the old chief, Kicking Bird makes a move to pull him back, but Ten Bears indicates the boy should stay.

TEN BEARS 

No, no let him sit with me.

 There is silence as the two men settle themselves by the fire, the little boy content in Ten Bears' lap.

TEN BEARS 

Our country seems good this summer, but I have not been out to see it.

KICKING BIRD 

Yes... it is good. 

The grass is rich. 

The game is plenty and not running away.

TEN BEARS 

I am glad to hear it. 

But the buffalo are late. 

I always worry about the bellies of our children.

 A brief silence.

KICKING BIRD 

I was thinking of a dance.

TEN BEARS 

Yes, a dance is always a good idea. 

It would be good to have 

A Strong Sign.

Kicking Bird seems 

suddenly uncomfortable. 

The little boy leaves.

 KICKING BIRD 

Yes.

TEN BEARS 

There's a funny thing about Signs. 

They are always flying in our faces. 

We know when they are Bad or Good 

but sometimes they are Strange 

and there is no way 

to understand them. 

Sometimes they make people crazy

 but a smart man will take 

such a sign into himself 

and let it run around 

for two or three days. 

If he is still confused 

he will tell somebody. 

He might come to you 

or to me and tell it. 

A smart man always does that.

Ten Bears picks up the pipe 

and puffs away, 

seemingly without care.

 KICKING BIRD 

I have seen such A Sign.

 TEN BEARS Oh?

 KICKING BIRD I saw a man, a white man.

 Ten Bears' eyes get big for a moment. Then he thinks.

 TEN BEARS Just one?

 KICKING BIRD Just one. He was naked.

 Ten Bears thinks some more.

 TEN BEARS Are you sure it was a man?

 KICKING BIRD I saw his sex.

 TEN BEARS Did you speak to him?

 KICKING BIRD No.

 Ten Bears rubs at his old eyes with both hands.

 TEN BEARS We will council on this.

 EXT. TEN BEARS' LODGE - NIGHT

 A teenaged boy, SMILES A LOT and his two buddies OTTER and WORM lie prone outside Ten Bears' home. They are peeking under the tipi's rolled-up sides. Their eyes are wide, for inside there's plenty to see and hear. The village's most influential warriors have squeezed into the lodge for this big and important meeting

 INT. TEN BEARS' LODGE - NIGHT

 The eldest and most respected men of the band, including Ten Bears, his pal STONE CALF, an influential warrior named WIND IN HIS HAIR, and Kicking Bird are seated around the fire.

 Crowded around them, in a high state of excitement, are the village's leading warriors. The meeting is in progress.

 KICKING BIRD 

He might be a god or he might be a special chief -- that's why we are thinking of having a talk with him.

 There is a little murmuring around the fire, and it goes silent. Wind In His Hair rises to speak.

 WIND IN HIS HAIR I do not care for this talk about a white man. Whatever kind of white man he is, he is not Sioux and that makes him less. We've camped here for ten days now and each day our scouts find nothing. One old bull with wolves tearing him apart, nothing more. We need meat -- not talk.

 KICKING BIRD 

You are right, we need meat today and tomorrow. But we must also have meat in ten years.

 Kicking Bird pauses here. 

Everyone is listening attentively.

 KICKING BIRD 

But the whites are coming. Our friends the Shoshone and the Kiowa, even our enemies, agree on this -- the whites are coming. More than can be counted.

 WIND IN HIS HAIR 

Kicking Bird is always 

looking ahead 

and that is good. 

But when I hear that 

more whites are coming -- 

more than can be counted, 

I want to laugh. 

We took a hundred horses from these people, there was no honor in it. 

They don't ride well, they don't shoot well, they're dirty. They have no women, no children. They could not even make it through one winter in our country. 

And these people are said to flourish? 

I think they will all be dead 

in ten years.

 There is a surge of enthusiasm in the lodge and Wind In His Hair is riding the crest of it.

 WIND IN HIS HAIR 

I think this white man 

is probably lost.

 This parting shot prompts a good-natured round of laughter.

 KICKING BIRD 

Wind In His Hair 

has spoken straight, 

his words are strong 

and I have heard them. 

It's True, The Whites are a poor race and it's hard to understand Them. 

But when I see one white man alone, 

without fear in Our Country, 

I do not think he is lost. 

I think he may have medicine. 

I see someone who might speak for all the white people who are coming. I think this is a person with which treaties might be struck.

WIND IN HIS HAIR 

This White Man cannot 

cover our lodges, 

or string our bows, 

or feed our children. 

I will take some good men... 

there are many here tonight.

 We will ride to the soldier fort,

 we will shoot some arrows 

into this White Man :

If he Truly has Medicine 

he will not be hurt. 

If he has no medicine 

he will be dead.

This is the best idea so far and there is much talk around the fire. They quiet down as Ten Bears prepares to speak.

TEN BEARS 

It is easy to become 

confused by these questions. 

It is hard to know what to do. 

No man can tell another 

how he will be. 

But I Know This... 

Killing a White Man 

is a delicate matter. 

If you Kill one, more are sure to come. 

We should talk about this some more.

 He drops his head, 

closes his eyes 

and starts to fall asleep. 

The meeting is over.