Bartlett: Virgil, isn't it?Hilts: Hilts. Just make it Hilts.
Hilts: Hold on to yourself, Bartlett. You're twenty feet short.Bartlett: What do you mean, twenty feet short?Hilts: You're twenty feet short of the woods. The hole is right here in open. The guard is between us and the lights.
Hilts: How many you taking out?Bartlett: Two hundred and fifty.Hilts: Two hundred and fifty?Bartlett: Yeh.Hilts: You're crazy. You oughta be locked up. You, too. Two hundred and fifty guys just walkin' down the road, just like that?
I'm going... out.
