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.
G. W: Come on over
to the house once in a while.

We'll rack up
a few hands of stud.

G.W., that'll be just fine.

MAN: lt's a nice morning,
ain't it, Boss?

G. W: Everybody's entitled
to their own opinion.

MAN: Like that again, eh?
Here's something
that'll cheer you up.

About 1,000 head. l figure
they'll bring about 1,250.

G. W: They're not as fat
as l'd like to ship.

They all off the north range?
MAN: Yes, sir.
Every one of them
with a plow and a Bible,

not the slightest idea
of what the range is for.

Drag out that hog-legg.
DRAGO: Yes, sir.
G. W: Get me
some attention.

Hee ya!
People, people, people!