Ride the high country

Come on, kids, out of the street.|Come on, kids, get back there.

Hey, you. Get out of there!

Get out of the street!

Get out of the street!|Clear the street!

Get away from there!

Watch out! Get out of the way.|Can't you hear?

Can't you see you're in the way?|Get out of here!

- All right.|- Out of the way!

Watch out, old-timer.

You got a good horse, but not good enough.|I'll have that dollar.

I'm beginning to figure|these races smell bad.

That thing never loses.

- You had your chance.|- Well, let's just say I'm a poor loser.

So if you want this dollar...

...well, you just come right on over here|and get it, sonny boy.

Right this way, folks.|Come one, come all.

Step right up and try your luck.|Everybody welcome.

See the Oregon Kid in person.

Right this way, folks.|Come one, come all.

Step right up and outshoot|the famous Oregon Kid.

The last of the Western town-tamers.

Fatten your wallets and be a hero|to your family. Everybody welcome.

Step up. Try your luck. All you gotta do|is hit the plates, and you win the money.

- Quit the sermon and turn her loose.|- One dollar on the yellow.

Shooting against you is like|sneaking licorice from a baby girl.

Care to try again?

Mister, could I make a 10-cent bet?

A whole dime? You're a plunger, sir.

Well, you see, I ain't so altogether sure I|could hit a moving target without buckshot.

I used to be fair with a scattergun...

...but then that was when the bird|wasn't too far away or flying too fast.

Them plates, I just don't see|how you manage.

Well, I'll be damned.

- How are you, Gil?|- No great complaints.

How long has it been?|Lordy, I'd hate to say.

Quite some time.

Where you been all these years?

Here and there.|Quite a little enterprise you've got.

Well, Steve, it's easier|than punching cows...

...and it pays off with free drinks|when I walk into a saloon.

Would it surprise you|that the Oregon Kid is the envy...

...of every small-minded ribbon clerk and|shirttail towhead from here to Pocatello?

Well, why not?|All these single-handed exploits.

Tell me, Gil, who was the Omaha gang?|I don't seem to recollect them fellers.

Flagstaff, Monterey, Hondo,|I remember we worked them places.

Dodge City and Wichita.|Did you ever run with the Earp boys, Gil?

You gotta allow for exaggeration.|That's part of playing this game.

That's not much of a game.|A blind man couldn't miss using buckshot.

It must be something important|to bring you here.

Looks like you've been riding|a long time but not getting far.

Job.

You mean you're still at it?|Federal marshal?

No, working for the bank.

You, a bank guard?

I'm transporting gold from the mining camp|up there to the bank down here.

Gold bullion, $250,000 worth,|the way the letter put it.

A quarter of a million.

And I could use some help.|Can you recommend anyone?

- I'll give it some thought.|- You do that, will you.

- And let me know.|- I will, Steve. I surely will.

What do you figure we're gonna do?

Drink champagne, kid,|and only the best.

About $250,000 worth.

- I'd like to see Mr. Samson, please.|- He's busy.

Would you tell him it's Mr. Judd.|Stephen Judd.

Just one minute.

Excuse me, sir.

Mr. Judd.

Have him come in, Abner.

Mr. Samson will see you.

Thank you.

How do you do, Mr. Judd?

I'm Luther Samson,|and this is my son, Abner.

- He's the vice president.|- I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Judd.

Well, I must say, Mr. Judd,|I expected a much younger man.

- Well, I used to be. We all used to be.|- Yes. Yes, of course.

Mr. Judd, we're more than familiar|with your reputation.

But that was made many years ago, and|we're dealing in the present, not the past.

What's the problem?

The Coarse Gold strike|is on the crest of the Sierras.

There's only one trail. One in, one out.

Six miners have been killed|trying to get their gold to us.

Six miners killed and robbed, Mr. Judd.

Several weeks ago we petitioned|for a marshal, but nothing happened.

The only law there is too drunk|to hit the ground with his hat.

The man we send must be completely|reliable, to say nothing of being honest.

We're speaking of gold, Mr. Judd.|Twenty thousand dollars worth.

Twenty thousand?

Why, I thought your letter said 250,000.

Our original estimate|was overly enthusiastic.

The strike isn't a mother lode,|but it's productive. Slow and steady.

- And we intend to get our share.|- The days of the forty-niners are past...

...and the days of the steady|businessmen have arrived.

My usual fee is $20 a day.|I'll have to charge you 40.

- Forty dollars a day?|- For what?

For two extra men. I don't intend|to go four days without sleeping.

- The question is...|- Can I do it?

I can't answer that by talking,|only by doing it.

If you two wanna talk about it,|you go ahead, and I'll read the contract.

Well, I guess that'll be all right.

- In private, if you please.|- Well...

...you can go in there.

Well, the contract's all right.|How about me? Any doubts?

If not, I'll sign it.

Well, I guess it's all right.

That old man is Steve Judd?|He don't look like much to me.

Son, I wore a star for six years|with that old man.

I was his deputy most of the time.|Once he was mine.

Don't ever play him short.

I just don't figure him|to be any trouble, that's all.

I hope you're right, boy.|I surely hope you're right.

I'll be at the lion. You demonstrate how|impressed you are, with your mouth shut.

- Hi, Mr. Westrum.|- Evening, honey.

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