No Indians

Brought to you by Chesterfield, America's most popular two-way cigarette. What a pair. Chesterfield king size at the new low price. Chesterfield regular. Around Dodge City and in the territory on West, there's just one way to handle the killers and the spoilers.

And that's with the U.S. Marshal and the smell of gun smoke. Gun smoke starring William Conrad, the transcribed story of the violence that moved West with young America. And the story of a man who moved with it.

I'm that man, Matt Dillon, United States Marshal. The first man they look for and the last they want to meet. It's a chancy job. That makes a man watchful. And a little lonely. I'd sure like to meet whoever's running the kitchen in this place.

Oh, why, Kitty? A crook that can make antelope stew taste like prairie dog. Gotta be something to see. At least it's hot. No way it isn't. Oh mine is. You're forgetting you dumped half that bowl of chili peppers in yours?

Well I've eaten here before Kitty. Oh hello Marshall. Hello John. You know what I'd do if I own this place Matt? Uh, pterodont. No look it's got tables and chairs and knives and forks and spoons. Now back they got a kitchen all set up with a stove and everything.

That's all here. I'd open a restaurant. You're spoiled, Kitty. Dodge isn't St. Louis, you know. St. Louis. I was there six months, four years ago. Hello, man. Kitty. How are you, Doc? Oh, I'm fine. I'm fine.

Sit on, Doc. Sit on. Oh, thank you. Thank you. Oh, well. What are you eating? Stew? That's what they call it, Doc. Well, I'll try a little anyway. And then I'm going to bed. At noon.