as the indian proudly steps back, we see beyond him a half dozen other braves -- all rosetted. ethan looks them over complacently while martin -- to hide the smile that threatens to split his face -- bends to pick up a huge bundle of furs.
as they ride in, passing dead horses, a few bodies of men.
a long line stretching across the landscape -- women falling and being prodded along by their captors. from behind camera ride ethan and martin and move to intercept the column.
the search theme is heard again as the two riders, with single pack horse, are heading south through new mexico.
their faces are sun-tanned, burned dark and dry. gone are the heavy coats and clothing of their northern days. they do not speak, just ride -- and there is the same bleak, fanatic, hard look about them both. the music theme segues into something livelier and mexican as we -
they are turning a bend and now, ahead, we see a cordon of comanches -- all armed, all quiet, all very menacing as they watch the approaching column. emilio calls a greeting in comanche. it gets no answer.
they swing around giant boulders, up-ended like pancakes.