 That's with the U.S. Marshal and the smell of gun smoke. United States Marshal. Wild hog and me are friends, big friends. You make much noise. What name, you white man? I'm Ord Spicer. Ord Spicer, you hear? You bother me and you'll be in big trouble with Wild Hog. No trouble. Tell these other redskins to put their spears down. I need more room. Come, white man. Are you with Wild Hog or ain't you? Much talk, come. Any tricks, I'll shoot you first. Where is it? Of course here, you walk. Can't you ride out like anybody else? I want to be in dodge tonight. Come. It's me. It's Ord Spicer, all right? Yes. These braves of yours sure keep you covered. Can't tell one from another, except you, of course. Haven't thought maybe I'd run into the wrong Indians. No moon tonight. Oh, I recognize them as Cheyennes, all right, but you never know with... with... with what, Spicer? Nothing, Wild Hog, forget it. You never know with Indians. Now, Wild Hog, you and me are friends. Don't get so touchy. I didn't mean nothing. We are not friends. I pay you. Sure we're friends. You're about the most educated Indian I ever met, that's why. I learn only English from the white man. Nothing else. You sure had a good teacher, fella. General Custer, many bitter moons ago. I was a scout. Don't matter. I never heard of him. He was killed. Well, that's nothing to do with me. You got the money, Wild Hog? Yes, $500. $500? Our deal was for $1,000. You will get the rest later. But I'm running a big risk for you, Cheyennes. This is mighty dangerous work, Wild Hog. It will be even more dangerous if we do not meet again, Spicer. Oh, Wild Hog, you can trust me. I'll be back. You know that? Yes. When? Oh, two, three days. Where'll I find you? Make camp near here. We'll find you. OK. I'll get on into dodge now. Goodbye, Wild Hog. Don't get drunk, Spicer. Never touch it. Bartender, set out another bottle of whiskey for me and my friend. Would you say you're cold, stranger? Or Spicer, friend. Let me fill your glass. Sometime you got here, dodge. You sure are easy with your money, Spicer. Nothing is too good for my friend. Say, what name you go by anyway? You've got a lot of money, Spicer. Sure, I got money. I'll have more soon. You must have hit it rich, huh? Sure, I have money, friend. Easy money. How'd you do it, Spicer? Anyway, friend, I live like a camper. My life's chicken one day and feathers the next. Right now, it's all chicken. How'd you do it? You made out real good, Spicer. Brains and guts, friend. Brains and guts. That's all it takes. I know, I know, but, but... What's that? What'd you say about Indians? Oh, it's just a way of saying it back home. Don't get on the pride about it. Maybe you talk too much. Maybe you ask too many questions. Hey, what's the matter with you, anyway? Maybe you know too much. Well, hiding something, don't trouble yourself. I ain't interested in you or your money. You don't have to. You bet I don't. Keep your eyes right on mine, Spicer. I want to watch you die. There's that old Spicer fella you locked up, and then there's a drunk who tried to buffalo me after you went to bed. No? Do you have any trouble with him? A little, Mr. Dillon. He tried to hit me on the head with his six gun. Well, you look all right. Oh, he didn't do it, sir. I bit his thumb and kneaded him at the same time. Well, that's quite a trick, Chester. You must have been practicing. No, sir, I haven't been practicing. But I had it all thought out. I see. All right, let's turn Spicer loose. I'll go get him, Mr. Dillon. And don't use it around here anymore. You can't bother a man for self-defense. I just want you to stay out of dodge. One kill at your limit here, even in self-defense. I ain't a fair to you, Marshal. Besides, this is a poor town anyways. You can have it. That man had kicked a hog barefooted. There's something real bad about him. Yeah, I don't know what it is, Chester. And I hope I don't have to find out. Well, you'll go away. Fellows like that, God keep moving. Seems like nobody wants him. Now, don't feel sorry for him, Chester. He got that way all by himself. Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I'm in on the Santa Fe yesterday, Marshal, four of them. Right back here. Beautiful guns. They're just beautiful. You're a good storekeeper, Jack, but I only need two of them. Well, I can make you good price in all four, Marshal. That wouldn't be any good if I don't need four, would it? Well, maybe not. But I never know. I got half a dozen 44 sharps rifles, same shipment. Thought I'd be stuck with them forever. Well, with the big 50 out now, there ain't a Buffalo 100. You's a 44 anymore. I don't see any 44s. Well, that's just what I'm telling you. Feller stopped in just this morning, took all six. Paved a $75 piece, too. You sold six rifles to one man? That's right, Marshal. The Buffalo 100? Well, it looked more like a drifter to me. Had plenty of cash, though. You know his name? No idea. Nothing wrong with it, was it, Marshal? Been a hold up around here I haven't heard about? No, no. Just a lot of rifles for one man to buy. No law, Guiney, is it? What does this man look like, Jack? Tall, skinny, kind of mean face. Anywhere one-six gun, black grips? Yeah. Come to think of it, he did. You know him? Lord Spicer, he killed a man last night. Now, I heard about that shooting. What he's supposed he's up to now? Where'd he go? I wouldn't know it. Backed the rifles on him, you and rode out of town. You going after him, Marshal? No, no. Just like you said, Jack, there's no law against a man buying all the rifles he wants. Seems strange, that's all. Well, let's settle on the price for those greeners, huh? Next day, Chester and I took the new greeners and rode out for a prairie chicken. We had a sack full within an hour, and we headed back to town, arguing on the way as to whether we'd bake the bird's hole or just cut the breasts off and broil them. We still hadn't settled a matter when we reached Dodge, and we never did. The stage from Hayes City had arrived half-hour before, bringing with it the bodies of two men found alongside the road. They were just laying there, Marshal, about five miles back. Both shot dead, but I thought I'd better bring them in anyway. Do you recognize them, Pete? No, Marshal, I didn't. Doc says there are a couple of riders from the T-bar outfit. He got them up in his office now. You bringing their horses? No sign of a horse, but there was an awful lot of tracks around. All right, I'll go see if Doc's found anything. Hang around, Pete, will you? I may want some more information from you. OK, if I do my waiting at the yellow fragrance of Marshal? Yeah, sure, sure. I'll put our horses up, Mr. Dillon. Your's, Chester, and may want mine. Yes, sir. What's it up here? Be right with you. How'd they die, Doc? Well, they got half shot, and then shot dead, Marshal. Yeah, I know, I know. But is there any way of telling if maybe they killed each other? Eh, yeah. No, there is Marshal, but I'd be much surprised if they did. What do you mean, Doc? They were cowboys, Marshal. Cowboys just don't generally carry buffalo guns. Yeah, take a look. I dug some of these out of each of them. Those are slugs from a sharps rifle, Marshal. That one's the best I found, right there. What caliber did you say this is, Doc? I'd get to 44. Not many 44s in use around here since the Big 50 came, huh? I know a man with six of them, Doc. What do you think of that? I'll let you know when I get back. So long, Doc. For the second act of gun smoke in just a moment. But first, behind the famous creaking door to Intersanctum tomorrow evening, there lies one of the most hair-raising tales to date. Meet Raymond, your host on Intersanctum tomorrow night on most of these same CBS radio stations. Now, the second act of gun smoke. And from there, I rode on alone. It was an easy trail. At first, there must have been more than a dozen horses running together. Long toward dusk, however, they suddenly split up, and I was faced with two different trails to follow. Meet a gambler's choice and rode harder than ever. There was only an hour of light left to track by when my horse stepped into a prairie dog hole and snapped his leg and went over hard. My head glanced off a rock. There was a shower of light, and nothing. He's a marshal of dodge, I tell you. But you can't let him live. He'd kill us all right. I'm going to kill him anyway. You'd die for it if you do. OK, you're the boss, but you'll wish I'd shot him. We take care of him our own way. White clown, pick up his gun. Yeah, he hadn't hurt. Just knocked out, that's all. Indians, Cheyennes. I'm no Indian, marshal. Spicer. Yeah, sure. No tricks now, marshal. These red skins will shoot you to pieces. Yeah, and those little sharps 44s you bought them, huh? Spicer. It's no business yours, marshal, not now. You're through. You're all the way through. Spicer, you're under arrest. What? I said you're under arrest. Marshal, what are you arresting me for? Not that it matters much. For selling guns to Indians and on suspicion of murder. All right, so I'm under arrest, but marshal, I want to ask you something. Yeah. How are you going to take me in, that's all. Just how are you going to manage? I'll worry about that. You sure will. Come on, wild hog. Let's shoot him and get it over with. This is a man of much heart. I admire his courage to stand with death on all sides and arrest a man. No, we will not kill him, not yet. But you can't take him with us. Right, Cloud, give him a horse. Come. They gave me a horse all right with the T-bar brand on it. But I was surrounded by six armed Indians and a no good white who'd shoot me any time he thought he could get by with it. Wild hog rode up ahead, leaving the party northwest, apparently the rendezvous with a bunch that had split off from this one. Spicer stayed right alongside of me. Well, am I still under arrest, Markham? You're still guilty, aren't you? Sure. I'll admit it. Don't matter, being as how you'll never see Dodge again or any other place. What are you doing with these Cheyennes here anyway, Spicer? I got a deal with Wild Hog, Marshal. Real good deal. Killing white men part of it? They don't need any help here, Marshal. They like to kill white men. Maybe they'll kill you before they're through. No, I'm too valuable to them. They like me. Now, now why would they like you? Well, they didn't at first. But I talked them into it. Talked Wild Hog into it. He's a smart fellow at Indian. Saw right away what I could do for him. Like buying those rifles. What else did you do for him? Well, I stopped those two riders with the horses, told them I was sick, got them all guard. Those Cheyennes were on before they could move. It was real easy. You're kind of like a Judas sheep in a slaughter pen, huh? Yeah, that's it, Marshal. Pays better, though. I got $500 coming since we find a rancher to the raid. I see. Pretty good deal, huh? You know, I think a lot more of these Indians than I'd do a you, Spicer. I don't like that, Marshal. At least they got an argument on their side. But you're just a renegade white. I'll kill you for that, Marshal. Oh, shut up. All right, you best for it. Shoot me and Wild Hog will split you wide open, Spicer. Besides, he spotted the rest of his party up there. Oh, yeah. All right for now, Marshal. But I'll see you dead. I promise I'll see you dead. Still alive two days later when we crossed the Smoky Hill River about 100 miles northwest of Dodge. There were 15 Cheyennes in the party. And day and night, two of them, by turns, never took their eyes off of me. They seemed anxious for an excuse to cut my throat. I had to watch every movement I made. Looked pretty hopeless. Wild Hog was smart, and he took no chances. But often, he and I rode along together. They were always flanked by my two warrior guards. Country is greener already, better every mile. Why have you been raiding so far south, Wild Hog, if you like this land better? We are northern Cheyenne, Marshal, the Big Horn Mountains. The army took us south to a reservation in the Oklahoma Territory. Oh, so that's it. You jumped your reservation, huh? Why should we live in a hot, flat land that has no game? But the army will be after you again. You've broken the law. Whose law? Ours or yours? All right, well, but the Indian has a law against murder. You've broken that twice that I know of. Cheyenne does not speak of it as murder to kill his enemy. Those cowboys weren't your enemy, Wild Hog. They weren't fighting you. The army drove us from our home in the mountains. The army took our horses from us. We are going back home now on other horses. That's all. That doesn't explain your killing. Those men were peaceful. Marshal, if I could, I would kill every white man in the country. I cannot. The Indian nations cannot. Red man has always fled before the white man. Those cowboys weren't chasing you. We needed their horses. They didn't even have a chance to fight. You tricked them. Is it only the white man who was allowed to trick his enemy? I was young once, Marshal, but I have seen too much trickery and lies and destruction and broken promises. I'll admit that's happened, Wild Hog, but you know not every man is a liar and a killer. No, there are white men like you, and there are white men like Spicer. Spicer? Tell me something. Would you consider Ord Spicer guilty of murder? The Indian is Spicer's enemy, not his own people. Therefore, it is murder. Then you understand why it's Spicer I came after and not you. Why not me, Marshal? You're the army's problem, not mine. I expect to fight the army many times before we reach the mountains. What, uh, what are your plans for me, Wild Hog? I have been thinking. Yeah? I do not know yet. What about Spicer? Spicer works for me. Why should I think about him? Then you're not as smart as I figured. All right, Marshal. He's a traitor to his own people and only for money. I have rifles now and enough horses. I do not need Spicer. You're going to kill him? Why not? He is only another white man. You said yourself you can't kill all the white men. If you were free, Marshal, you would take him back and let other white men kill him. What difference how he dies? Makes a difference to me, Wild Hog. I'm a lawman. I may have to kill you, too. I'm a hard man to be friends with. I will explain to you, Marshal. It matters little about any Indian. Few more winters and not many of my people will be alive. I do not complain of our fate. Tribe follows tribe. Nation follows nation. It is the law of nature. The white man's turn to be defeated and to disappear will come. It is just a matter of time. And so we may be brothers after all, Marshal. I'm not sure I believe all of that, Wild Hog. Of course not. Still, I recognize you as a warrior among your people as I am a warrior among mine. Too bad we're not on the same side. As long as we are brave and willing to die, it does not matter. I ride ahead now. You stay with the others. That night we reached the north fork of the Solomon River and camped with the shadow of low hills not many miles ahead. Wild Hog ordered my guards to keep me some distance from the rest of the party. So I pulled up some buffalo grass and vetted down on it early. I watched the stars until sleep came. Next thing I heard was the sound of horses fading off in the distance. The two braves guarding me had disappeared, so I got up and walked carefully back to where the Cheyennes were camped. There are a couple of horses still tied to a bush, but they were alone. The Indians had left. I stopped for a moment to listen. And then suddenly I saw the figure of a man lying in the moonlight about 20 feet off. Spicer, now there's no blood on you. You're all right. Come on a minute, man. Come on. You've been knocked out, that's all. Come on, sit up. Oh, why don't you? What happened? Well, where are they? Where's Wild Hog? They've gone. Gone? Gone where? Where'd they go? They've been headed for the Big Horn Mountains. Less chance of running into the army if they travel at night. But they couldn't leave me not here, not now. Looks like they did. Some brave club gin they rode off. But I got to go with them. You're still groggy, Spicer. And you're still under arrest, remember? You can't take me in, Marshal. Wild Hog will be back. He won't let you. Why do you think he left you here, Spicer? We're friends, big friends, me and Wild Hog. You got no friends. You don't belong in anybody's camp. I'm taking you back to Dodge anyway. Murder in Redskies. A better man than you, Spicer. He's brave, and he's willing to die. Now, come on, we got a long ride back. Smoke under the direction of Norman McDonald's stars William Conrad as Matt Dillon, US Marshal. Tonight's story was specially written for Gunsmoke by John Meston, with music composed and conducted by Rex Corey. Featured in tonight's cast were Harry Bartell, Larry Dobkin, Herb Vigran, and Jack Krushan. Farley Bayer is Chester, and Howard McNeer is Dark. Join us again next week as Matt Dillon, US Marshal, fights to bring law and order out of the wild violence of the West in Gunsmoke. CBS Radio Tarzan brings you startling new adventures. Listen for Gold of the Sudan later this evening. Lansing is self-speaking. And remember, Robert Q's waxworks brings you the top records and recording artists on the CBS Radio Network.