You know the scene. Two outlaws are perched on a craggy cliffside in the middle of nowhere, looking back at a relentless dust cloud on the horizon. They’ve been riding for days. Their horses are spent. Every time they think they’ve lost their pursuers, that same group of riders appears again, steady and silent.
Paul Newman turns to Robert Redford. He looks baffled. He asks the question that basically defined the 1969 classic Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid: "Who are those guys?"
It’s not just a movie line. It's a vibe. It represents that specific brand of existential dread when you realize you’re being hunted by something you don't understand. But if you dig into the actual history of the Wild West, the answer to that question is way more interesting than just some nameless actors in a screenplay. The real men who chased the Wild Bunch across the frontier weren't just "guys." They were a specialized, high-tech (for the time) task force hired by the railroads to end the era of the outlaw once and for all.
The Men Behind the Dust: The Real Posse
In the movie, the posse is a faceless, unstoppable force. In reality, they had names. They had reputations. And honestly, they were terrifyingly good at their jobs.
The most prominent figure among them was Joe Lefors. If you're a Western buff, that name should ring a bell. Lefors was a legendary lawman and a key operative for the Pinkerton National Detective Agency. He wasn't some bumbling local sheriff. He was a professional. He was the guy who eventually orchestrated the arrest of Tom Horn. When the Union Pacific Railroad got tired of Butch and Sundance blowing up their express cars and stealing thousands of dollars in gold, they stopped relying on local posses. They realized that local guys were often too scared or too easily bribed.
So, they hired the best.
The railroad companies essentially created a "Super Posse." They gave these men a dedicated train—a mobile command center, basically. They had the best horses, the best telegraph equipment, and a mandate to never stop. Imagine being Butch Cassidy. You’ve spent years outsmarting slow-moving lawmen, only to realize the "Who are those guys?" following you are now backed by the infinite pockets of a massive corporation. It changed the game.
Why the Line Still Hits Different Today
Why do we still quote this? It’s been over 50 years.
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I think it's because it captures a shift in the world. William Goldman, who wrote the screenplay, used that phrase as a motif to show that the Wild West was dying. Butch and Sundance were relics. They were charming, chaotic, and fundamentally old-school. The "guys" following them represented the New World—organized, corporate, and relentless.
It’s a feeling of being obsolete.
When you hear that line, you aren't just hearing a question about identity. You’re hearing the realization that the rules have changed and nobody told you. The movie repeats the line at least four times. Each time, the tone shifts from slight annoyance to genuine terror.
The Pinkerton Factor
We can't talk about who those guys were without talking about the Pinkertons. At their peak, the Pinkerton Detective Agency had more active agents than the actual U.S. Army had soldiers. They were the first truly national private police force.
- They used a "Rogues Gallery" (the precursor to mugshots).
- They had a centralized database of criminal records.
- They didn't care about state lines.
When the real Butch Cassidy (Robert LeRoy Parker) and Sundance (Harry Alonzo Longabaugh) saw those riders on the horizon, they weren't just seeing men. They were seeing the long arm of a system that finally had the technology to catch them. The real-life posse included men like Charlie Siringo, a cowboy-turned-detective who spent years undercover. Siringo was a hard-nosed operative who literally wrote the book on how to track outlaws. He was relentless. He once followed a trail for thousands of miles without quitting.
The Mystery of the Man in the White Straw Hat
One of the most specific details in the film is the "man in the white straw hat." Butch and Sundance keep spotting him through their binoculars. He’s the lead tracker.
In film lore, this character is often associated with the real-life Timothy Keliher. Keliher was the chief of the Union Pacific's special agents. He was the one who organized the "Special Service Rangers." This wasn't just a bunch of guys on horses. It was a tactical unit. They stayed on their special train, and when a robbery happened, the train would speed to the nearest point, the ramp would drop, and the horses would gallop out at full tilt.
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They were essentially the SWAT team of the 1890s.
It’s no wonder Butch was confused. He was used to having a three-day head start while a local sheriff tried to find enough sober deputies to form a group. Suddenly, he’s being hunted by a professional paramilitary unit that travels by rail.
Separating Hollywood from the High Desert
The movie makes it seem like the chase happened all at once, leading directly to Bolivia. The truth is a bit more scattered. The "Who are those guys?" era of Butch's life lasted years.
The Wild Bunch—which included famous names like Kid Curry and Ben Kilpatrick—was a loose confederation. They were successful because they used "The Outlaw Trail," a string of hideouts like Hole-in-the-Wall and Robbers Roost. These places were geographically impossible to invade.
But Joe Lefors and his peers didn't try to invade the hideouts. They just waited. They cut off the supply lines. They used the telegraph to alert every town within 500 miles. They made it so Butch and Sundance couldn't spend their stolen money.
The Bolivia Move
Eventually, the pressure from these "guys" became so intense that the duo felt they had to leave the country. They didn't go to South America for the weather. They went because the United States had become too "small." The Pinkertons were everywhere.
Interesting side note: The Pinkertons actually followed them to South America. They sent circulars and photos to banks and police stations in Argentina and Bolivia. Even thousands of miles away, the "guys" were still there, in spirit and in paperwork.
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The Cultural Impact of a Simple Question
"Who are those guys?" has evolved into a cultural shorthand. It shows up in sports when an underdog team is suddenly winning. It shows up in business when a new startup disrupts a massive industry.
It’s the question the establishment asks when they realize they’re being overtaken.
In the film, it’s ironic because Butch and Sundance are the "famous" ones, yet they are the ones who are intimidated by the anonymity of the lawmen. The lawmen don't need names. They have badges and a paycheck from the railroad.
Actionable Takeaways from the Legend
If you're looking at this story from a modern perspective—whether you're a history buff or just a fan of the film—there are a few things to keep in mind about how the "Who are those guys" mystery actually functioned:
- Adapt or Die: The Wild Bunch failed because they didn't account for the telegraph and the railroad. They were using 1870s tactics against 1900s technology.
- Persistence is a Weapon: The "guys" didn't necessarily have better aim; they just had better stamina and logistical support.
- The Power of Anonymity: Sometimes, being the "faceless force" is more intimidating than being the famous hero. The lack of information about the posse is what drove Butch and Sundance to paranoia.
To really understand the history, you should check out the Pinkerton archives or read The Outlaw Bank Robbers by Charles Kelly. It paints a much grittier picture of the men who spent years in the saddle chasing the ghost of the Wild Bunch.
The next time you’re watching the movie and that dust cloud appears on the horizon, remember: those weren't just random riders. They were the first version of the modern world catching up to the last version of the old one. They were Joe Lefors, Timothy Keliher, and a group of professionals who were just doing their jobs.
But honestly? "Who are those guys?" is a much better line than "Is that the Union Pacific Special Service Rangers again?"
Some things are just better left to the movies.
If you want to see the real faces of the men involved, the Pinkerton National Detective Agency records are partially digitized through various university libraries. Looking at the actual mugshots of the Wild Bunch versus the stern, unyielding portraits of the detectives who hunted them tells you everything you need to know about why the era ended the way it did. You can see the exhaustion in one and the institutional coldness in the other. It's a stark reminder that history is rarely about who is "cooler," but rather who is better organized.