The Big Country Page #3

I seem to bother him.

Steve's a little rough,

but he's a fine boy.

Turned up as a tow-headed youngster

with just the clothes he stood in

and the horse he rode.

A saddle tramp at 14.

Now I doubt if there's a finer

foreman in this entire country.

I raised him, made a man of him.

I see.

Jim, I'm glad to have this chance

to talk to you alone.

I know Patricia's impulsiveness.

Frankly, I feared an elopement

back there in Baltimore.

I owe it to you that I'm to have

the pleasure of seeing her married here.

I owe it to you that

I'll have the privilege

of marrying a very exceptional girl.

I thought we ought

to do this thing properly.

We'll do our best to oblige.

- What are your plans for the future?

- A little vague at the moment.

If it's romance you're after,

you certainly can find it here.

No prettier sight in the world

than 10,000 head of cattle...

unless it's 50,000.

And we can have that many one day, too.

This country's as big as the sea, Jim.

And offers a man the same challenge.

I can see that.

Oh, Major,

Pat tells me that you're something

of an authority on weapons.

- I thought you might like to have these.

- Duelling pistols.

Now this is mighty kind of you, Jim.

They're just about the finest I ever saw.

Wonderful!

Wonderful balance.

Made by John Nock of London.

None better.

They've been used.

Yes, they belonged to my father.

Jim, I know how proud you are

of his memory.

We loved him, Major. We were just

as proud of him when he was alive.

A man's honour and his good name

are his finest possessions.

I agree, but his good name

needed no defence,

and his honour was beyond question.

You know, no one remembers exactly

what that last duel was about.

Here in the West, Jim, a man

is still expected to defend himself.

If he allows people to think he won't,

he's in trouble. Bad trouble.

You're speaking about

what happened yesterday?

I'm not implying any criticism, Jim,

but your gentlemanly forbearance

is misplaced

when you're dealing with

the Hannasseys.

Well, I can't say that I enjoyed it,

but I've gone through rougher hazing

in college and at sea.

I was keelhauled the first time

I crossed the equator.

Well, perhaps you did the right thing...

Pat being there.

I don't know that I would've acted

differently if she hadn't been.

They weren't dangerous, just drunk.

I've run into Hannasseys

in ports all over the world.

That's where you're wrong, Jim.

The Hannasseys are trash. There's

no other word for it. They're trash.

They're as prolific as animals

and they live like animals.

Rufus, the head of the clan,

is something out of the Stone Age.

They live like a pack of wild dogs

up in Blanco Canyon.

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