Quigley Down Under Page #2

you'll be sent back

to face the firing party.

But I see no reason why you

should be trussed up like animals.

Mr. Dobkin.

This is my preferred weapon,

Mr. Quigley.

Do join me for dinner.

You've got to admit, the Yank's

a damn good shot with a long rifle.

Oh, sure. But you give me

a weapon like that,

and I could beat him with my eyes shut.

Easy to say, O'Flynn.

You've got a lot to learn.

I ain't got a lot to learn. Look at you,

Dobkin. You've been here 12 years,

and all you've got to show for it

is cold mutton.

He's in, getting a fancy dinner.

Huh?

You were actually in Dodge City?

William Hickok must have been there.

Spent a night there once.

I was pretty tired.

Dodge City's a nice place

to get some sleep.

Are you familiar with

the army revolver, Mr. Quigley?

Well, sir, I never had much use for one.

It's a recent invention of

your countryman, Colonel Colt.

God created all men. They say

Sam Colt made 'em equal. More or less.

That's what I like about you Americans.

You're people of action, not words.

That mint jelly on your lamb.

It's my own creation.

No, I'm a student of your American West.

I've read a great deal about it.

Tell me about dingoes.

Ten pounds a month

for shooting wild dogs

seems like a whole lot for not much.

Besides, you got enough men

and guns outside

to kill every dingo

within ten miles of here.

Unless you're talking about deserters.

Did you know that your American Indian

is a race that has no word for "wheel."

No concept of farming.

No understanding of land ownership.

Is that a fact?

From what I hear, you found a solution

to that problem in your country.

I guess that depends on

whether you're an Indian or not.

You see, in many ways...

our two nations are quite similar.

We both brought civilization

to the Stone Age.

Unfortunately, in this country

we have failed in one regard.

We have been unable to domesticate

the most backward people in the world...

...the Australian Aborigine.

Don't mind him. He's harmless.

My parents were slaughtered

by Aborigines, Mr. Quigley.

They attacked so fast my mother

was found dead still holding her sewing.

Nowadays they butcher

our sheep and cattle.

Her Majesty's government

allows the local settlers

to deal with the matter their own way.

It's official policy.

It's called "pacification by force."

But the real issue...

...is that, primitive as they are,

the Aborigines have learned

to keep out of rifle range.

Which brings us to you... Mr. Quigley.

What the hell?

No! Stay right where you are.

No man knocks me out of my own house.

Don't just stand there. Get him.

- Has he got the rifle with him?

- He keeps it right beside him.

I said, get him!

He's just sitting in there

with that big gun.

Keep down. Kelly, up there.

Carver, take the side.

Brophy, around the back.

Fancy American shooter.

Eating real fancy, eh?

Go on, kick him in the back! Give it

to him in the back. Go on, that's it.

Leave Roy alone!

Get her off me!

Throw him in the wagon. Haul him

two days from here and dump him.

Let Australia kill him.

And that crazy woman, too.

You forgot the gold.

What did he say?

- You forgot the gold.

- Marston.

He paid him in gold.

He's right.

Leave us some water

and you can have the gold.

- I can have the gold anyway.

- That's what I thought you'd say.

Yah!

Yah!

Go on!

Come on! Yah!

Yah!

I wish people would quit

hitting me on the head.

Don't worry.

On a new job, it's quite common

for things not to go well at first.

- We should...

- What?

I remember, my granddaddy told me

how, when you're lost in the desert,

you should sleep during the day

and walk at night.

Your granddaddy tell you that?

He also tell you we'll die in the desert

without those horses?

What good are horses if we die first?

Once in a while she actually

makes a little sense.

- What did you say, Roy?

- Never mind.

Good morning, Major.

Marston.

What can I get for you?

Some refreshment?

That's very kind, sir.

I'd be obliged if you would

identify for me two dead bodies.

Two men absconded.

But I imagine this is

a couple of newcomers

who wandered off together, recently.

A man and a woman?

Two men. One has been stabbed

and one shot through the head.

Coogan and Miller.

It would appear that the man

and the woman are still missing.

Yes, it would, wouldn't it?

Don't worry, Major.

I have no doubt I'll find them.

Hey, lady.

You OK?

Think so.

What are they gonna do to us?

I reckon they already done it.

They gave us water.

But that don't make sense.

They let me keep it when every white man

with a rifle's trying to kill 'em.

- Except you.

- They don't know that.

Don't they?

Something tells me you and I

were on the shady side of dead.

This is a special place.

Bet they used magic on us.

That old man over there,

looks like he's... some kind of chief,

or medicine man, or something.

What's this? There.

More than likely something

that came out of the south end

- of a northbound kangaroo.

- You mean kangaroo sh*t?

Very kind.

- Do you think they're safe to eat?

- You got a better idea?

Much obliged.

Go on.

I don't eat things

that are still moving.

Gonna shoot it first?

Mm-hmm.

- Yo? Yo?

- Yo.

Yo? Yo!

Yo!

After you cut this strip out

of this big piece of kangaroo...

There we go. Take...

Here.

Swing your arm. Just roll your wrist.

You gotta keep that loop open.

See how that loop stays open?

You look at what you're throwing at.

Swing the rope and throw right at it.

Then you just pull him in.

You just wait till you try this.

But you gotta guess what it is.

That little girl is so darling.

She sure is.

Not as darling as Roy Junior.

God Almighty, lady, not another Roy.

I don't know about you, but my stomach

thinks my throat's been cut.

Roy was hunting sage hens

when the Comanches came.

I grabbed the baby and a pistol,

and I hid in the root cellar out back.

The Indians tore up our sod house.

I was real quiet,

but then the baby started crying.

I tried to shush him and suckle him,

but he just wouldn't stop.

One Comanche, I remember, he acted

real drunk and wore my green apron.

He must have heard something.

He started hollering and coming closer.

So I put my hand gentle-like

over my baby's mouth.

"Don't cry. Daddy'll be home soon."

The Indians found us,

but they just laughed.

They was drunk, didn't wanna

hurt anybody, and rode away.

At sundown, Roy came home, but I was

still afraid to come out of the cellar.

I was afraid of what he'd do

when he saw I'd smothered our son.

I ought to find some way

to mend this petticoat. Look at that.

Roy...

He just buried the baby,

put me in the wagon,

and we went 70 miles

to Galveston without stopping.

He never said a word.

Put me on the first ship he found.

It was headed to Australia.

Then he said,

"Don't want no woman that would

kill my son to save herself."

And he turned and he walked away,

and he never looked back.

I know, 'cause I watched

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