Buckley: I'll take that gold, friend Maverick. Try anything and you'll stop a bullet.
Bret: Buckley, you're a crook and a cheat and a double-crosser. But you're not a killer. You could no more squeeze that trigger than quit markin' decks.
Buckley: Lash those sacks onto my spare horse, friend.
Bret: The only way you'll get 'em is with a bullet.
(Buckley shrugs and points the gun at Maverick, but he can't pull the trigger)
Buckley: You know … I could learn to dislike you intensely.