Ol' Preston is a sportin' man, Miss Fitzroy. I won't steal up on ya while you slumber like these Vox boys here, with their pigstickers... *Pleading* *Gunshot* That's... one scalp to me. *Screaming* *Gunshot* That's two. Now, when you hear this, I want you to square your affairs, and come die in the sight of the poets. You'll need a white man's weapon -- give this a try.