Look toward the hills.
That’s where you’ll find him.
Reach that first summit by dark—the red mesa—camp there.
Nearby you’ll find a clear pool.
Do not bathe in it. 
Fill your canteen with water—there won’t be any where he is.
In the morning set out toward the upper peak.
Ride west, always head west.
Cover your mouth against the dust with this cloth.
When you see the first string of smoke from his campfire,
dismount and walk beside your horse, or he will shoot you.
Remove that red neckerchief and burn it tonight at the mesa.
Never wear red in his presence.
Burn it, or he will cut your throat in your sleep.

Tell him you have spoken to me.  Do not mention me by name—ever.
But describe me in great detail—down to the clay at my ankles, the dust that covers my feet.

He will speak to you only in signs during the day. 
It will take you a good month to learn the rudiments of his language.
He speaks only in the dark—when you cannot see his mouth. 
Your water will be gone long before you reach him.  This is the first thing you must ask him.
Sign this to him, so—
The first thing you will learn is the cactus from which to extract water. 
If you neglect your horse and she dies, he will kill you as well. 
Take this.
It is the root of the Great White Oak—make a mistake, and poison yourself and
your horse—he will not give you the antidote.
There is much you will have to learn to survive his ruthlessness.
Remember what I have told you.
He has not a ruthless heart.