These hills skulk with Indians. They're like coyotes. You never know when
one's gonna sneak up on you. I was cookin over a fire one night in the
western San Fernando Valley when one snuck up on me. I had my guns out
before I knew what I was doin. Maybe a less patient man woulda drilled
him without thinkin. Well, I didn't. He was carryin a rabbit. He looked
into my gun barrels, then back at me. After about a minute he walked off.
I figured later he mighta wanted to be friends and maybe roast his rabbit
on my fire, but by then it was too late.