Quigley Down Under Page #3

No, I'm a student of your American West.

I've read a great deal about it.

Tell me about dingoes.

Ten pounds a month

for shooting wild dogs

seems like a whole lot for not much.

Besides, you got enough men

and guns outside

to kill every dingo

within ten miles of here.

Unless you're talking about deserters.

Did you know that your American Indian

is a race that has no word for "wheel."

No concept of farming.

No understanding of land ownership.

Is that a fact?

From what I hear, you found a solution

to that problem in your country.

I guess that depends on

whether you're an Indian or not.

You see, in many ways...

our two nations are quite similar.

We both brought civilization

to the Stone Age.

Unfortunately, in this country

we have failed in one regard.

We have been unable to domesticate

the most backward people in the world...

...the Australian Aborigine.

Don't mind him. He's harmless.

My parents were slaughtered

by Aborigines, Mr. Quigley.

They attacked so fast my mother

was found dead still holding her sewing.

Nowadays they butcher

our sheep and cattle.

Her Majesty's government

allows the local settlers

to deal with the matter their own way.

It's official policy.

It's called "pacification by force."

But the real issue...

...is that, primitive as they are,

the Aborigines have learned

to keep out of rifle range.

Which brings us to you... Mr. Quigley.

What the hell?

No! Stay right where you are.

No man knocks me out of my own house.

Don't just stand there. Get him.

- Has he got the rifle with him?

- He keeps it right beside him.

I said, get him!

He's just sitting in there

with that big gun.

Keep down. Kelly, up there.

Carver, take the side.

Brophy, around the back.

Fancy American shooter.

Eating real fancy, eh?

Go on, kick him in the back! Give it

to him in the back. Go on, that's it.

Leave Roy alone!

Get her off me!

Throw him in the wagon. Haul him

two days from here and dump him.

Let Australia kill him.

And that crazy woman, too.

You forgot the gold.

What did he say?

- You forgot the gold.

- Marston.

He paid him in gold.

He's right.

Leave us some water

and you can have the gold.

- I can have the gold anyway.

- That's what I thought you'd say.

Yah!

Yah!

Go on!

Come on! Yah!

Yah!

I wish people would quit

hitting me on the head.

Don't worry.

On a new job, it's quite common

for things not to go well at first.

- We should...

- What?

I remember, my granddaddy told me

how, when you're lost in the desert,

you should sleep during the day

and walk at night.

Your granddaddy tell you that?

He also tell you we'll die in the desert

without those horses?

What good are horses if we die first?

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