Santa Fe Saddlemates
1945
(upon confronting a third thug on his way to the governor's office) Sunset Carson: This is getting monotonous!
Inspector Burke: Sunset Carson? They should have named you Wildcat Carson!
(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?