advertisement 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.