Raidler: We never speak but once, and we shoot to kill! (he fires a shot)
Jennings: Keep your hands in the air and commend your souls to your Creator!
Raidler: Where are the money bags? (to Delacour) Speak, you fat old Shylock!
Jennings (to Joe): Open that gate there, coon! Jump, you black bob-tailed monkey! (he fires a shot, and Joe leaps, in comic terror, and swings back a part of the counter)
Jennings (rides into the front of stage and wheels his horse): Where is the treasure? (levels gun at the Judge, whose hands shake with fright as he holds them in the air; he tries to speak, but cannot make a sound) Spit it out, you doddering old note-shaver! Where are the securities? (turns the guns upon Porter, and for the first time sees him) Why—why—what’s this? If it ain’t my friend Bill! My old pal of Honduras and San Salvador and the Central American coast! Bill Porter, or I’m dreaming! Welcome to our bandit-crew! (sticks his guns into the holsters, leaps from his horse, and clasps Porter’s hands) So this is your joint! Come with us, Bill, come out into the open, we’re Robin Hood and his Merry Men! Bill, we’ve got the loveliest little ranch in Oklahoma; and with this fifteen thousand dollars we’re planning to buy it and settle down. Come along, and share the good life.
Porter (with his customary gravity, not in the least disturbed by a bank hold-up): No, Colonel, I can’t help you earn the money, so I can’t help you spend it. I could never point a gun at a man!
Jennings: Well, come and hold the horses. We’ll give you a share if you’ll just hold the horses—won’t we, Raidler?
Raidler: Sure, anything for a pal of yours.
Porter: No, Colonel, I’m sorry; I couldn’t even hold the horses.
Jennings: You mean to go straight, hey? Well, go to it—but it tears us apart. (wrings his hand) Well, good bye, old man, we’ll ride along, and get our fifteen thousand elsewhere! (leaps upon his horse) Pardon us, gentlemen, no offense meant, and none taken, I hope. Clear the way! (he rides out to far side of counter, joining Raidler)