Whispering Smith

All right. All right.
So one of these days,

you'll stop a couple of bullets
with your teeth, and you'll end up...

I know. I know. I'll end up probate, with
coyotes chewing the buttons off my pants.

Luke, such talk!
It's not me. It's Murray.

That's all he's been saying
the last two days.

I wish you'd
think up some other words.

Now, on the level, Smitty. When
are you gonna give up riding herd...

on express car bandits and
get somethin' for yourself?

Such as what? Well, for one thing, you
could quit the railroad and throw in with me.

Huh? Sure. I've got more ranch
than one man could ever handle.

You put in with me, you can write your
own ticket. We'll run the Circle "Z" 50-50.

What do you say? Well?
Nice offer, Murray.
It just isn't in the cards.

- Why not?
- Well, l... For the first thing, I've got my job.

Job. You call that thing you've
got a job? A railroad cop?

I like the railroad, Murray. It's
in my blood just like it's in yours.

- You talk to him, will you, Marian? Tell him he's
crazy. - I think Luke should decide for himself.

Well, how about it, Smitty?
- Sorry, but thanks just the same.

Well, I'm not begging'.
- You must be out of your mind, though.
- Look out, Murray. You'll cut his throat.

Well, maybe I should.
Let some sense into him.

Now you can pretty him up.

Thanks for the shave.
But next time, use a pair of pliers.

They'll pull out easier. Say, what are
you whacking into this skirt for, honey?

I'm shortening it. Ho, ho,
ho. You see that, Smitty?

You haven't been here five minutes, and
already, she's wanting to show off her legs.

Murray, please!
- All set, Murray?
- Yeah. I'll be right with you.

Where you goin'? Into town. I'm three
days late with my report on that wreck.

Old shiny pants'll be bawling'
like a stuck calf. "Shiny pants"?

Yeah. The new division superintendent,
George McCloud. You know him? No.

He's a college guy. Got a little book
called How to Run a Railroad. Bye.