Colonel Hart: It's lonely being a cannibal. Tough making friends. Colonel Hart: A little too much bourbon in his bourbon. Colhoun: I said no food. I didn't say there was nothing to eat. Colonel Hart: What did you get the medal for? Captain John Boyd: Cowardice. [Looking through a spyglass as three people approach the fort] Colhoun: Breakfast... lunch... and reinforcements. Ives: Eat to live. Don't live to eat. Ives: If you die first, I am definitely going to eat you, but the question is, if I die, what are you going to do? Bon appétit... Eat or die. Ives: That was very... sneaky Colhoun: We left in April. Six of us in all. Mr. MacCready and his wife, from Ireland. Mr. Janus, from Virginia, I believe. With his servant, Jones. Myself. And our guide. A military man, coincidently. A Col. Ives. He professed to know a new, shorter route through the Nevada's. Quite a route that was. Longer than the normal one. Impossible to travel. We worked very very hard. By the time of the first snowfall we were still one hundred miles from this place, that was November. Preceding though the snow was futile. We took shelter in a cave. Decided to wait until the storm had passed. The storm did not pass. The trails soon became impossible, and we had run out of food. We ate the Oxen. All the horses. Even my own dog. And that lasted us about a month. After that we turned to out belts, shoes, and roots we could dig up... but you know there's no real nourishment in those. We remained famished. The day that Jones died I was out collecting wood. He had expired from malnourishment. And when I returned, the others were cooking his legs for dinner. Would I have stopped it had I been there? I don't know. But I must say. When I stepped inside that cave... the smell of meat cooking... I thanked the lord! I thanked the lord! Ives: Morality. The last bastion of a coward. Ives: It's not courage to resist me Boyd. It's courage to accept me. Ives: [looking out over the mountains] Manifest destiny. You know come april, thousands of gold-hungry Americans will over those mountains, on their way to new lives, passing right through... [turns around indicating Fort Spencer]
: here. Ives: [takes a big breath of smoke] You know, not too long ago I couldn't do that. Could barely take a breath without coughing up a pint of blood. Tuberculosis. That along with fierce headaches... depression... suicidal ambition. I was in pretty horrible shape. In fact I was on my way to a sanatorium to convalesce when a native scout told me a curious story. Man eats the flesh of another, he takes the other man's strength, absorbs his spirit. Well. Naturally I just had to try. Consequently I ate the scout first and you know he was absolutely right. I grew stronger. Tuberculosis? Vanished. As did the headaches and the black thoughts. I returned that spring happy. And healthy. And virile... Pvt. Toffler: He was licking me! Ives: We won't kill indiscriminately. No... selectively. We don't want to break up families. Knox: What are you cooking? Ives: It's, uh... stew. Knox: Need any help? Ives: No, no, no. Perhaps later you might... contribute. Ives: [gun clicks] That's sooo annoying. Pvt. Toffler: Sick man outside! SICK MAN OUTSIDE! Ives: I found your Private Reich up there... or what was left of him. You didn't finish! Well, I can't blame you: he was tough. [snorts] Ives: But then, a good soldier ought to be. Ives: Of course, we've no wish to recruit everyone. We've enough mouths to feed as it is! [laughs] Colonel Hart: Well. Isn't this civilized? Colonel Hart: Stew a la Major Knox...