Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

No, Mr. Clampett, you don't understand.
Good.
She's stretched out in the root cellar.
Granny, suppose you go out and look after your corn crop.
I meant the name of the dearest partner.
Yeah?
Oh, it is, Mr. Clampett.
Happy Valley.
Dark man to see you, Pa.
He'll have to dip his head in hot creosote.
I was hoping they hadn't heard about the shooting.
With a hammer and chisel.
Uh, could I perhaps suggest something impromptu?
Well, here he comes.
All right.
As a matter of fact, it's against the law.
I can feel the rheumatism burning its way up my legs.
I'm Mortimer of Happy Valley.
BATS!? What BATS
Oh, no, the man has invited us for a drink.
Clampett.
There ain't enough left of him to feather an arrow.
Hey, that's hard as a rock.
Oh, I can't make it!
Yes, sir, Pa.
What'd you shoot, Granny?
Happy Valley, Mr. Mortimer speaking.
We'll try to put in a new tree before she gets back.
What's going on?
Brubaker.
You're making him awful nervous.
You all right, Mr. Mortimer?
You just stay right there, honey.
Oh, she's, uh, back in the corn patch.
Yes, sir.