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[Smiley's off-tune trumpet playing annoys his fellow passenger
] Jason Fox
: Do you have to do that? Smiley
: No, I'm not getting paid for it, if that's what you mean... but I'm just practicing. You know what they say about practice - practice makes perfect. Say, I wish you could hear the Smiley Burnette Silver Cornet Band. We can really play, I mean. I been all the way back to Indianapolis Indianapus to get us some uniforms. Here, just look at that.
[he pulls out a band hat
: Boy, ain't that like downtown? Ain't that ritzy? Oh, I forgot, I was going to quit talking, wasn't I, so you could get some sleep.
[starts playing his trumpet loudly and off-key
[with Steve Reynolds help, the stagecoach fends off an "Indian" attack
] Steve Reynolds
: Anybody hurt? Smiley
: Well, hurt's hardly the word for it. He's dead!
: Well, I just wouldn't want to scare you, lady. Nobody's ever seen 'em... that is close, anyhow. Ever so often they come ridin' out of Ghost Canyon, up there where there's mists and clouds. If you look, you can see right now. Down out of their hidden canyons they come, like they was ridin' out of another world. Protectin' their hidden gold, that's why they're hauntin' us -- keepin' gold-hungry miners from diggin' up their graves. Look at 'em, their blood gone from their veins. Their eyes cold as death and them ghost-like horses -- they don't even leave hoof prints you can ever find. I reckon you've heard of miners and prospectors disappearin' in the hills. That's what's happened to 'em -- the riders got 'em...gone without a trace. You'll never hear of 'em again. You get the feeling they ride past like a cold wind that goes right through you, giving you the creeps and the shivers while they disappear back where they came from. And then when you look around, they're gone.
Marshal Smiley Burnette
: That's a right nice horse there, ain't it. Steve Blake
: It sure is! I wonder who he belongs to. Marshal Smiley Burnette
: Well, he belongs to Buckshot Thomas. Steve Blake
: Buckshot Thomas, eh? I don't think I know the gentleman. Marshal Smiley Burnette
: Well, he ain't no gentleman.
: You liver-lipped brush pile! You double-crosser! You killer in sheep's clothing!
: I'm your huckleberry.
] Smiley Burnette
: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Ringeye, whoa! Howdy, gentlemen. I'm Smiley Burnette, the eyeglass king, internationally known for Burnette's Better Bifocals. I'm a spec specialist, an eyeball mechanic and a sight doc. What can I do for you gentlemen? Pop Rockland
: You can hand over your money. Smiley Burnette
: I can hand over m... money? Money? Say, you do need eyeglasses.