- [upon confronting a third thug on his way to the governor's office]
- Sunset Carson: This is getting monotonous!
- [examining his pants, which have had a hole burned in the seat]
- Dead Eye: Guess I burnt my britches behind me.
- Dead Eye: Gosh, we're real saddlemates now!
- Sunset Carson: Saddlemates?
- Dead Eye: You know, pals, er, buddies, er, ah...
- Sunset Carson: You mean saddlemates?
- Dead Eye: Yeah! That's it.
- Sunset Carson: On one condition. You have to change that name of yours. Now let's see, ah, Killer? Ripper? Slugger? Well, how about Dead Eye?
- Dead Eye: Sounds awful frightenin' - but awful virile!
- Sunset Carson: OK, Dead Eye it is.
- Sunset Carson: Look, Dead Eye, this is my chance to talk to Loder. Bring your potatoes around to the front of the barn and keep watch. If anyone comes, whistle.
- Dead Eye: What do I whistle?
- Sunset Carson: Anything.
- Dead Eye: I don't know it.
- Sunset Carson: You don't know what?
- Dead Eye: "Anything."
- Sunset Carson: [exasperated] That, I know.
- Dead Eye: Oh, you know it? How's it go?