Not the chosen (qrota_1)

Now as to you poor devils? So as I see it, when it comes to the subject of what to do next, you gentlemen have two choices. One: once I'm gone, you could lift that beast off the remaining Speck, then carry him to the nearest town. Which would be at least 37 miles back the way you came. Or two: you could unshackle yourselves, take that rifle, put a bullet in his head, bury the two of them deep, and then make your way to a more enlightened area of this country. The choice is yours.