Marston : Professor.

Harold : Oh, it's you, dear boy. Come in. Come in. And shut the door.

Marston: What's going on? You leaving?

Harold: Yes, sir. Yes I am, sir. You know, you know the thing, the thing that is vital without which scholarship cannot proceed, sir?

Marston: No, I don't.

Harold: Not having a bullet in your flipping neck, sir. I'm not cut out for this. No, not cut out for this at all.

Marston: (laughing) Nope.

Harold: They're fucking savages! Savages!

Marston: I think we all are.

Harold: Not me, sir. I'm from Connecticut. I'm a professor at Yale! I write books! I do not deserve to die out here! Where's my tincture? Oh yes.

[He mainlines some of that sweet, sweet coke to calm down.]

Marston: You okay, Professor?

Harold: Dandy, sir. Just dandy. (hears gunshot) Oh heavens above!

Dutch : Is that you, John?

Marston: Hello, Dutch.

Dutch: I think that's what they call, two for the price of one out here in this wonderful place!

Marston: Maybe so, Dutch.

Dutch: You and your friend there the professor... We're gonna kill the both of ya.

Marston: Why you want to do a thing like that?

Dutch: I don't know, sport, I guess.

Marston: Fair enough. Why don't I come out there, we fight. Let the professor go and send your boys back to their families?

Dutch: Well that, that sounds like a beautiful plan, John. Only problem is, my boys here, they already lost their families a long time ago. We aren't thieves, John, we're fighting for something. A bit like you, only we're fighting for an idea, not just for ourselves.

Marston: That's beautiful, Dutch. You always were a fine speaker.

Dutch: I was. Now, would you kindly send that academic out here, so we can show him what we really think about the of anthropology?

Harold: Please, sir, what are you going to do?

Marston: I'm going to hand you over to them and watch them tear you limb from limb.

Harold: What?

Marston: I'm just kidding. We're going to run across the rooftops, get you back to your ivory tower.

Harold: Oh! Thank you, sir, thank you, sir.

Marston: Don't thank me, we're still here. Come on.

[They run next door where a couple's having foreplay.]

Harold: Good day, sir...madam.

Man: Look here, sir, what's the meaning of this...this outrage?

Marston: You two stay down and shut up.

Harold: Come on, we can get to the roof this way.

[They get to the roof.]

Harold: John! Help me, John!

Outlaw: (with Harold hostage) One more move and he's a dead man!

Harold: (after captor dies) My god, you took your sweet time! What'll we do now? They got us pinned down from both sides!

[Marston takes 'em out.]

Marston: I think that's most of 'em. The coast looks clear.

Harold: Come on, then, let's make a break for it!

[They mount up.]

Harold: This really couldn't have gone more horribly wrong.

Marston: At least you got some good material for your next book.

Harold: You know, I dreamt of documenting the last days of the Old West. The romance, the honor, the nobility! But it turns out it's just people killing each other.

Marston: It always was, Professor. And the old West ain't quite dead yet.

Harold: Oh I know, Mr. Marston. Believe me, I know.

[They make it to the station.]

Harold: My research is complete; much as I thought, there's no civilizing this savage land.

Marston: I could have told you that for nothing.

Harold: Ah, but they'll give me a prize in New Haven for this. Well, they bloody better. Well...goodbye, Mr. Marston. (hugging) Best of luck, dear friend.

Marston: So long, Professor.

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