- Rowdy Yates: Have you ever, ah, you ever heard of Druds?
- Gil Favor: Druds?
- Rowdy Yates: Yeah, Druds.
- Gil Favor: You wouldn't, you wouldn't mean Druids, by any chance? Would ya?
- Rowdy Yates: Druds, yeah.
- Gil Favor: It's some kind of ancient tribe, I think.
- Rowdy Yates: Ah, the Indians?
- Gil Favor: Nuh-uh. From over in Europe.
- Rowdy Yates: Well, have they still got people there still?
- Gil Favor: I don't think so. Why?
- Rowdy Yates: Well, seems the reason the Professor there came out from Boston was these Druds. They make rock circles, take stones and tow them together and make big circles out of them.
- Gil Favor: Phew, boy. All I can figure offhand is, Professor took a wrong turn in the trail somewhere.
- Gil Favor: When it comes to cattle, you can brand 'em with a bar brand, a bench brand, or a bosell brand, which is a stripe runnin' around the cow's nose. Or you can use a runnin' or swingin' brand, a tumblin' or a walkin' brand, whose lower part looks like feet. But whichever you use, from then on, you know who the cow belongs to. When it comes to men, though, it's not that easy. They don't wear brands. What herd they're runnin' with, what loyalties they got, is anybody's guess. And I can't afford to guess. I'm Gil Favor, trail boss.
- Jim Lark: Well, I might just keep on going, Quince. You realise there ain't a single, even half-way good reason a man'd hire out for a drover.
- Jim Quince: I don't know. You're eating pretty regular.
- Jim Lark: Wishbone's stew and sourdough, yeah.
- Lismore: They were pagans, Mr Favor. They worshipped dark and bloody gods in dark and bloody ways. They lived and died in England before the dawn of Christianity. They built huge altars to their gods, grey stones on which the blood of their sacrifices ran red.
- Pete Nolan: They're all dead now, ain't they.
- Lismore: Perhaps.
- Lismore: Oak trees were sacred to them. They believed that the soul of each Druid lived in its own oak tree and they laid a curse on any man who harmed such a tree. And that man died not quickly but horribly.
- Maeve: And like I was saying, these four jaspers came charging at me- MUSHY! Mushy.
- Rowdy Yates: Oh, I wasn't sleeping, Mr Wishbone.
- Maeve: Then what was I just saying?
- Rowdy Yates: About that redhead girl down in San Antone, the one who snapped her garters at you.
- Maeve: You're three girls and 600 mies behind.