Say, you're pretty near all in, ain't ya. Better come up with me to the hideout and meet...

[after eluding the sheriff by swimming underwater, John emerges on the far side of the lake at the feet of a tall gunslinger] John Brant:
Well, I guess you got me. Joseph Conlon:
[snorts]
Come on out, stranger. I ain't the law. You're a pretty smart hombre and you got plenty of nerve. It strikes me that the boss could use somebody like you. What's your name? [John glares at him] Joseph Conlon:
Smith, ain't it. That's the handle most of you fast travelers use. Aw, it's as good a name as any. Mine's Jones! [they shake hands] Joseph Conlon:
Say, you're pretty near all in, ain't ya. Better come up with me to the hideout and meet the Big Chief. We're short a coupla hands