Drago, throw that
in the buggy.

DRAGO: Yes, sir.
BEN: That's a scrubby bunch
of sooners, huh?

McLlNTOCK: They are at that.
MAN: That ought
to make Douglas happy...

lining his pockets
with land fees.

BEN: What are we going to do?
l don't know what
you're gonna do, Ben.

Me... l do nothing.
200 families. Quarter of beef
a week per family.

lf they last two years,
that can be a sizable number.

l got 20 head to one of any
other brand on the Mesa Verde.

l'm not hollering.
Some of us haven't got
all the money in the world.

Some of us ain't old and tired
and feel like being put upon.

You interest me, Young Ben.
Go on.

The first time l find one of
our hides wearing our brand...

hung on one of them
settler's fences,

l aim to kill me a plow boy.
You do what you want,

We'll do what we want.
Fellas my age generally
call me G.W. or McLintock.

Youngsters call me
Mr. McLintock.

All right, Mr. McLintock,
not because l'm afraid of you.

You're the big yeast
out of this country,

and l reckon a fella my age
should call you mister.

He's full grown now, G.W.
He's a half-owner of the spread.
l made him a full partner...
the day the doc gave me
the long face.

Well, you want him to vote...
the first time this territory
becomes a state, don't you?

Of course, l do.
These settlers get burned out,
there'll be
a lot of hollering...

that this country's too wild
to be a state,

and we'll go on being
a territory some more,

with a lot of political
appointees running it...

according to what they learned
in some college...

where they think that cows
are something you milk,

lndians are something
in front of a cigar store.

l'm looking to you
to hold Young Ben down.

BEN: l'll do what l can.