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Trampas:
It's your bet, you son of a ...
The Virginian:
When you call me that, Trampas, you smile.
Trampas:
[to those seated at the barbequie table] You think that school ma'am's straight? If you knew what the stage driver told me ...
The Virginian:
[overhearing and responding angrily] Stand up on your legs, you polecat, an' tell all you're a liar!
Molly Wood:
[to the stage driver] I insist that you throw that disgusting liquor away immediately, you brute!
Trampas:
I'll give you till sundown to get out of town.复制复制成功复制失败，请手动复制
