Treasure of the Sierra Madre

Howard:
Hey you fellas, how 'bout some beans? You want some beans? Goin' through some mighty rough country tomorrow, you'd better have some beans.

Dobbs:
Can you help a fellow American down on his luck?

Dobbs:
Nobody puts one over on Fred C. Dobbs!

Dobbs:
Let's see, three times 35 - is a hundred and five. I'll bet you 105,000 dollars that you go to sleep before I do.

Gold Hat:
Badges? We ain't got no badges. We don't need no badges. I don't have to show you any stinking badges.

Howard:
We've wounded this mountain. It's our duty to close her wounds. It's the least we can do to show our gratitude for all the wealth she's given us. If you guys don't want to help me, I'll do it alone.

Bob Curtin:
You talk about that mountain like it was a real woman.

Fred C. Dobbs:
She's been a lot better to me than any woman I ever knew. Keep your shirt on, old-timer. Sure, I'll help ya.

Bob Curtin:
You know, the worst ain't so bad when it finally happens. Not half as bad as you figure it'll be before it's happened.

Howard:
I know what gold does to men's souls.

Howard:
Ah, as long as there's no find, the noble brotherhood will last but when the piles of gold begin to grow... that's when the trouble starts.

Howard:
If I were you boys, I wouldn't talk or even think about women. T'aint good for your health.

Dobbs:
You two guys musta been born in a revival meeting.

Dobbs:
Conscience. What a thing! If you believe you got a conscience it'll pester you to death. But if you don't believe you got one, what could it do t'ya? Makes me sick, all this talking and fussing about nonsense.

Howard:
Without me, you two would die here, more miserable than rats!

Fred C. Dobbs:
What a town. Tampico.

Bob Curtin:
You said it, brother. If I just could get me a job that would buy me passage, I'd shake it's dust off my feet soon enough, you bet.

Fred C. Dobbs:
You know, if I was a native, I'd get me a can of shoe polish and I'd be in business. They'd never let a gringo. You can sit on a bench 'till you're three-quarters starved, you can beg from another gringo, you can even commit burglary. You try shining shoes in the street, selling lemonade out of bucket, and your hash is settled. You'll never get another job from an American.

Bob Curtin:
Yeah, and the natives would hound and pester you to death.

Fred C. Dobbs:
Some town to be broke in.

Bob Curtain:
What town isn't?

Howard:
Say, answer me this one, will you? Why is gold worth some twenty bucks an ounce?

Flophouse Bum:
I don't know. Because it's scarce.

Howard:
A thousand men, say, go looking for gold. After six months, one of them's lucky. One out of a thousand. His find represents not only his own labor, but that of nine hundred ninety-nine others to boot. That's six thousand months, five hundred years, scrambling over a mountain, going hungry and thirsty. An ounce of gold is worth what it is, mister, because of the human labor that went into the finding and getting of it.

Flophouse Bum:
I never thought of it just like that.

Howard:
Well, there's no other explanation, mister. Gold itself ain't good for nothing except making jewelry with and gold teeth.

Howard:
Gold's a devilish sort of thing, anyway. You start out, you tell yourself you'll be satisfied with 25,000 handsome smackers worth of it. So help me, Lord, and cross my heart. Fine resolution. After months of sweating yourself dizzy, growing short of provisions, and finding nothing, you finally come down to 15,000, then ten. Finally, you say, "Lord, let me find just $5,000 worth and I'll never ask for anything more the rest of my life."

Flophouse Bum:
$5,000 is a lot of money.

Howard:
Yeah, here in this joint it seems like a lot. But I tell you, if you was to make a real strike, you couldn't be dragged away. Not even the threat of miserable death would keep you from trying to add $10,000 more. Ten you'd want to get twenty-five, twenty-five you'd want to get fifty, fifty, a hundred. Like roulette. One more turn, you know. Always one more.

Fred C. Dobbs:
I think I'll go to sleep and dream about piles of gold getting bigger and bigger and bigger.

Fred C. Dobbs:
This is the country where the nuggets of gold are just crying out for you to take them out of the ground and make 'em shine in coins on the fingers and necks of swell dames.

Howard:
Now here's where we're bound for, hereabouts. Don't show properly whether there's mountains, swamp, or desert. That shows the makers of the map themselves don't know for sure. Once on the ground, all we gotta do is open our eyes and look around. Yes, and blow our noses, too. Believe it or not, I knew a fellow once who could smell gold like a jackass can smell water.

Fred C. Dobbs:
Hey, if there was gold in them mountains, how long would it have been there? Millions and millions of years, wouldn't it? What's our hurry? A couple of days, more or less, ain't gonna make a difference.

Bob Curtin:
Remember what you said back in Tampico about having to carry that old man on our backs?

Fred C. Dobbs:
That was when I took him for an ordinary human being, not part goat.

Fred C. Dobbs:
Any more lip out of you and I'll haul off and let you have it. If you know what's good for you, you won't monkey around with Fred C. Dobbs!

Fred C. Dobbs:
Why am I elected to go to the village? Why me instead of you and Curtin? Oh, don't think I don't see through that. You two've thrown in against me! The two days I'd be gone would give you plenty of time to discover where my goods are, wouldn't it?

Howard:
If you feel along those lines, why don't you take your goods with you?

Fred C. Dobbs:
And run the risk of having them taken from me by bandits?

Howard:
If you was to run into bandits, you'd be out of luck anyway. They'd kill you for the shoes on your feet.

Fred C. Dobbs:
Oh, so that's it. Everything's clear now. You're hoping bandits will get me. That would save you a lot of trouble, wouldn't it? And your consciences wouldn't bother you none, neither!

James Cody:
You know, you've got to hand it to the Mexicans when if comes to swift justice. Once the Federales get their mitts on a criminal, they know just what to do with him. They hand him a shovel, tell him where to dig, when he's dug deep enough, they tell him to put the shovel down, smoke a cigarette, and say his prayers. In another five minutes, he's being covered over with the dirt he dug out.

Bob Curtin:
Wouldn't it be better, the way things are, to separate tomorrow, or even tonight?

Fred C. Dobbs:
That would suit you fine, wouldn't it?

Bob Curtin:
Why me more than you?

Fred C. Dobbs:
So you could fall on me from behind, sneak up and shoot me in the back.

Bob Curtin:
All right, I'll go first.

Fred C. Dobbs:
And wait for me on the trail to ambush me?

Dobbs:
Say buddy, will you stake a fellow Am...

Howard:
Well, goodbye Curtin.

Bob Curtin:
Goodbye, Howard.

Howard:
Good luck.

Bob Curtin:
Same to you.