[while pursuing outlaws, Cal and Fuzzy are injured when they both fall from their trusty steeds]

Cal Brent: Listen Fuzzy, when we get back to town remind me to get two well-broke rockin' horses.

Evans: Perhaps I'd better withdraw my offer. I want this outfit, all right, but I don't want to buy a range war with it!

Cal Brent: Well, Mr. Morgan, we're buyin' chips in this game, whatever it is. I'd like to tie up with some outfit... that is, if you can use a couple of riders.

Ranch hand: If we've got a range war on our hands, we want operators who can throw lead, not mounted canaries.

[Cal threatens to hang the waterhole poisoner]

Cal Brent: Now, we'd rather know who the boss is than see the hired man dance on air, but if you'd rather dance than talk, why...

[the waterhole poisoner has just been mortally wounded by his gang]

Cal Brent: Now listen, Mister! Your own pal shot ya. Here's your chance to square yourself. Who are you workin' for?

Water poisoner: You-you can go wh-where I'm headin'!

Cal Brent: Good gosh, lady! You haven't been kidnapped. Why, you've been rescued!

Jeannie Morgan: Oh, thank you so very much, but I really don't care for your kind of rescue.

Cal Brent: Well, you're going to be rescued whether you want to or not.

Jeannie Morgan: Oh, you're incorrigible!

Cal Brent: Am not. I'm a Democrat.