"The Lipans are your friends."
"Yours too, and you must let them think you are their friend, strong. The Apaches are everybody's enemies—mine, yours—only fit to be killed off."
"You've killed some of 'em."
"Not so many as I mean to kill. That's one thing I'm on this trip for. Old Two-Knives would almost have given it up if it hadn't been for me."
"I don't feel that way about the Lipans, if they did capture me. All I want of them is to get away, and go back to the settlements."
"Maybe your folks won't know you when you come."
Steve looked down at his fine muscular form from limb to limb, while the stern, wrinkled face of his companion almost put on a smile.
"I'd have to wash, that's a fact."
"Get off your war-paint. Put on some white men's clothing. Cut your hair."
"They'd know me then."