During the scene where Paladin first enters the room and confronts the Marshall, a rear shot shows the Marshall's hand lifting up toward his lapel. The camera angle jumps to the front, and suddenly the Marshall's hand is down at his side. He introduces himself, and then lifts his hand to his lapel to show his badge.
(Paladin is making some delicate adjustments to the trigger of his gun. Hey Boy is nearby with a newspaper.)
Hey Boy: So very sad.
Paladin: All right, Hey Boy. What is it?
Hey Boy: I read here of bloody ax killer man who goes beserk. He kills all people on isolated farm where he works.
Paladin: Hey Boy, do you remember when I taught you to read English? Well, there must have been a reason. Let's see that.
Hey Boy: Paper Chinese.
Paladin: "An itinerant farm hand is known to have killed at least nine persons including two women and three children."
Hey Boy: Poor children. So very sad.
Paladin: Yes, it is, Hey Boy. So very sad, and someone must catch that fellow. (Returns to his work)
Hey Boy: Poor children.
Paladin: Hey Boy, I am going after the man. But I am not going after him because you would make my life miserable if I didn't, no sir. I'm going because I'm tired of--low ceilings. Hmph. And the taste of champagne. I'd like some sunshine and fresh air for a change.
Buell: Paladin! Are you from Roy Bissell?
Paladin: Ask her.
Jeri: I don't know.
Buell: Jeri. What did he mean, "ask her"? What did you two talk about in there?
Paladin: She tried to shotgun me one minute. To, save you. The next minute she asked me to take you.
Buell: I can't blame her for that; I put her through a good deal of trouble. Davy there is her brother's oldest boy.
Jeri: (Fetching her shotgun.) Jim. Turn Davy loose.
Buell: Paladin, Jeri thinks she's doing this to help me. Jeri, the first thing I did when I came here was to take these shells out of that shotgun. Sooner or later everyone thinks he can handle this job just a little bit better than I can. Even Jeri. Even Bissell and his posse. Well, Davy, if they want you alive, they'd better leave you with me. Because nobody's gonna take you away from me alive.
Paladin: What if Bissell calls your bluff?
Buell: Let's put it this way, Paladin. It's our last chance, Davy's and mine. Either we live together, or we die together.
(Buell and Davy have gotten into a vicious fight.)
Jeri: Why don't you stop it?
Paladin: Which one do you want me to shoot?
Buell: They're not so hot to see that Davy's set free. They want to get at me. Davy--he's nothing but the sneeze.
Paladin: The sneeze?
Buell: Years ago, I used to ride trail drives. Once we were out about three weeks and we ran into a dry well. That night there was a summer storm, thunder and lightning. You'd smell water in the air, but there was no rain. Every time the sky lit up, we thought the beef would be up and runnin'. Long about four in the morning, one of the boys sneezed. That beef was up and running like the sneeze was dynamite. Now, you could say that sneeze started the stampede, but I wouldn't.
Paladin: What would you say, Marshall?
Buell: I'd say those beef were all ready to run. If it hadn't been the sneeze, something else would have started them. Davy--he's nothing but the sneeze.
Paladin: Still, those cattle did have a reason to run.
Buell: You think those men coming here don't?
Bissell: Hold it, Buell! You too, Mister. We're the law.
Jeri: He is, it's true.
Buell: So this is the end of it, Roy.
Bissell: I'm afraid so, Jim.
Buell: Well, you can drag me down, I'm just a man. But you can't drag down twenty-three years of good law.
Bissell: Jim, we didn't drag down the law. You did. First time is when you killed that drifter last January. How many others were there, Jim? Y'remember? And Jim! Davy here was drunk when he shot at your jail, that's all! Lately you begun to think you were judge, jury and hangman.
Buell: He's going to kill again, you know that.
Buell: Well, what am I gonna say to the family of the next man he kills?
Bissell: That won't be your problem, Marshall. That'll be another man's. Now Jim, give me the keys for this boy's leg chains. Take those chains off of him, get him outside and ready to ride. I'm sorry, Jim.
Buell: They won't understand.
Paladin: They understand. And I understand. Twenty-three years of intimacy with the misery and madness of men. Wrapping bodies in ponchos. Kicking dust over the blood. Telling a wife you just shot her husband. Or a father that his son must hang. And telling yourself that the law will be done, no matter what the personal pain, anguish. I understand that twenty-three years of anguish, torture, can twist a man. The ironic thing, Marshall, is that only the very best survive long enough to break.