Original subtitles

This must be it. We're slowing down.

It looks like a lot of nothing.

All the better. No people, no danger.

Whoops! Talked a little too soon.

There's a crowd gathering out there.

Two gophers and a jackrabbit.

Cover from the window.

I'll check the outside to see if the area's clear.

We're on the siding. Not a soul in sight.

Then, may I suggest, gentlemen,

that we get the horses from the baggage car

and be on our way?

Uh, no, I don't believe we should do that just yet, sir.

Mr. West, your entire method of procedure

leads me to believe I must be the most unpopular leader

since Genghis Khan.

No, not at all, Mr. President.

I'm sure you have the respect and admiration

of most Americans.

Well, then-

But so did President Lincoln, sir.

All it takes, sir, is one madman with a gun.

So what do you suggest?

That you stay here

while I ride ahead to Gibsonville

to look over the situation.

Aren't you afraid that I might be bitten

by some enraged sand flea while you're gone?

Uh, Mr. Gordon will stay here with you, sir.

He's an excellent marksman with small targets.

All right, gentlemen.

But it seems like such a waste of time,

all of these precautions for a short stopover en route.

Now, mind you...

I must be on time

for that San Francisco conference.

We realize that, sir,

but the war left a lot of wounds that haven't been healed yet.

There are men who'd like to see you dead.

But Gibsonville is a Union town, and we're going there

to dedicate a statue to a Union war hero.

All the more reason why the occasion

might draw your enemies, sir.

Jim's right, sir.

Very well.

I suppose I can endure

this oasis of luxury for another 24 hours.

But when I come riding in,

I shall expect to see

crowds of cheering people lining the streets.

I'll do my best, sir.

Have you ever been to Gibsonville, sir?

Many years ago...

I went there to see an old friend,

Josiah Gibson.

It's a lovely town...

full of new buildings, and growing fast.

People were friendly... industrious.

I imagine by now they've got quite a little city.

You don't like Indians?

Sure, I do.

Some of my best friends.

Then do you mind telling me what you're doing?

Doing? What am I doing?

I'm digging for gold, you darned fool.

What's it look like?

Question is...

what are you doing here?

Speak up, man!

Who are you? And what are you doing here?

Uh, my name is James West,

and I'm just...looking your town over.

What happened here?

Bad epidemic hit the town.

You better move on fast before it gets you.

Uh, what kind of epidemic?

Broken necks.

Real contagious.

You better ride on out.

I'll think it over.

You, uh- You can go back to your work now.

"Colonel Wayne Gibson.

"Who died gallantly in the battle with his entire company

in the defense of Fort Stedman. March 25th, 1865."

Stick 'em up. Stick 'em up.

Good afternoon.

May I help you?

Is this hotel open for business?

Would you like to rent a room?

Perhaps. But I see

that you haven't had a guest in six months.

Business has been a little slow lately.

"James West."

Is that right?

Yes.

Welcome to Gibsonville, Mr. West.

Thank you, Miss-

Caine. Jennifer Caine.

I'll show you to your room.

That's our sister!

Aah!

It's Chris Davidson.

He's dead. His neck's broken.

Uh, you don't seem too surprised.

It's happened before... all too often.

What's that?

It's him.

Do you expect me to believe

the music came from this organ?

I only know what's happened before.

I met Davidson briefly before he died.

He spoke of an epidemic of broken necks. True?

There have been other murders like this...

and each time, the organ played...

as though from beyond the grave.

What do you mean?

This belonged to him.

To Colonel Wayne Gibson.

Before he went away to the war.

His father allowed no one to touch it after he left.

So?

His ghost is angry with us.

No one is safe here.

To the late Chris Davidson.

Rest his soul, if any.

Are you Sheriff Hollis?

That's me. Come on in.

Make yourself comfortable.

Thank you.

You, uh, care to join us?

Uh, no, thanks. I'm here to talk

about Chris Davidson's death.

My name's James West.

Oh, yeah. I heard about you being in town.

Me and Doc Gavin here

were just talking about poor old Chris.

Do you know what killed him?

Well, I guess Doc can give you the official verdict.

He signed the death certificate.

Chris Davidson died of an overdose of ignorance,

complicated by two busted neck vertebrae

and an occluded windpipe.

What Doc means, Mr. West-

It was accidental death.

Chris must have... tripped and fell.

Your concern overwhelms me.

You might say we was expecting it,

the way Chris was carrying on...

chopping down everything in sight

with that axe of his'n.

Darned fool.

There are a lot of things in this town

that need some explaining.

Why don't you tell him, sheriff.

I got a sudden case of sleeping sickness.

I want to take me a little nap.

Maybe it'd be better if you and I

took a little walk so as not to disturb Doc.

He's been under quite a strain lately with all these deaths.

Yeah, I can see he's a bundle of nerves.

First off...

I'd like to know who you are, Mr. West.

We don't get many inquisitive strangers here.

Let's just say I have, uh,

an important reason for being here...

and I'd like to know why Gibsonville

suddenly turned into a ghost town.

Well, it wasn't all that sudden.

Those of us who still stick around here

call it Gibson's folly.

Well, why Gibson's folly?

Mainly because it's in the wrong place.

Fifty miles too far north on the wrong pass.

When old Josiah Gibson founded the town-

The Josiah Gibson, uh... Colonel Gibson's father?

That's right.

You've seen our famous statue, then.

I'd like another look at it.

Anyhow, when old Josiah Gibson founded the town,

he figured he'd cash in on the big move west.

But he misjudged the course of the railroad.

It went through Granite Pass,

50 miles south of here.

And Gibsonville...became just a backwater.

Other towns have survived without a railroad.

That was just the start.

The war took away a lot of young men

that never came back.

Josiah's mind got a little fuzzy.

Then, when he heard his only son had been killed...

he let go completely.

And...

this is the result.

Well, are you saying that he's-

He was crazy to put up a statue to his son?

He must have been...

because it took every last cent

of what was left of his fortune

for that hunk of metal,

in the shape of a no-good, lazy, mean-

Stop it!

It's easy enough for cowards like you who stayed at home

to say mean and hateful things against Wayne!

It's a pity his statue doesn't fall down

and crush you like the insect you are.

I take you knew the colonel personally?

I knew him better than anybody.

He was a fine man, and so was his father.

You know what you said was lies, all of it!

Lies about Josiah, lies about this town!

Miss Jennifer had the idea

she might like to marry into the Gibson family

If the hero had just made it back home.

And you want the truth?

You want the real reason this town is deserted?

You want to know why these few jackals

are still hanging around here?

It's all right, Mr. West. Its all right.

Just miss Jennifer's brothers Abel and Bert. You know them.

Uh, we met briefly.

They kind of like to sit in Abel's room

up on the second floor of the hotel...

...and shoot at the windows of empty buildings.

Or mostly empty.

They're high-spirited boys.

Yep.

Well, I guess I better go...quiet them down...

before they hurt somebody.

Yee-hah!

Is that true about your brothers? Yeah!

They get themselves into a lot of trouble,

but neither of them means any real harm.

I'd like you to tell me the truth

about this town and these people.

A little later. I better get back to the hotel.

Aah!

Abel, open up! It's me, Bert!

All right, Bert! What's all the fuss about?

It's Abel. I heard him hollering from his room,

but the door's locked.

It's me, Abel! Open up!

Weren't you two together just a few minutes ago?

Yeah. We was in there doing some target shooting.

But I went to my room to get some bullets,

then I heard him holler.

It sounded like he was hurt bad.

Probably just another one of the fool tricks

you two are always pulling.

You wouldn't say that if you could have heard him.

All right. Come on.

What's the problem?

Oh, he says Abel's inside here.

Sounds like he's hurt...

but the door won't open.

Excuse me.

Be it ever so humble.

He's gone. How could he?

Not a trace.

Listen.

Put it down gently.

No need to be so brutal about it, was there?

After all, I'm not a common thief.

No? What's uncommon about you?

"Vincent Pernell, attorney at law."

Then you should be familiar with the law

regarding private property.

Indeed, I am.

But there are also

certain inalienable rights of private citizens

not spelled out in the law.

And I was simply exercising one of those rights.

As one of the original settlers-

and few remaining in evidence of this community

-it was my duty to investigate the arrival

of an unannounced stranger...

whose presence here might well constitute

an additional menace in a situation already fraught

with many strange and unfathomable dangers.

In other words, you were curious.

You might put it that way.

Just who are you?

What are you doing here in Gibsonville?

What are you doing in this ghost town?

Practicing my profession.

Don't you find your profession a little slow here,

or do you specialize in writing wills?

Well...

there has been a temporary...

lapse in business.

But I have no doubt that Gibsonville will revive,

like a phoenix rising from the ashes,

to become a booming Western metropolis.

You keep away from that door!

I found him snooping outside your door.

I tried to pull him away.

And I was told there's a patient here needing my services.

I was just looking- Everyone seems to be concerned

why I'm in town.

I think it's best if we get everything out in the open.

You tell your brother Bert

to get everybody in the lobby at 4:00 this afternoon.

That is, uh, everybody whose neck is still in one piece.

Mr. Gordon, it seems to me

that we've waited quite long enough.

Why, Mr. President...

...I seem to recall General Lee

paying a tribute to your patience,

when you took Petersburg after a 10-month-long siege.

It was that event which exhausted my supply.

I've had no patience since then.

Excuse me, sir.

Here we are, Annabella.

There's a good girl.

Ah, yes. There we go.

And we've delivered what we should.

Nice girl.

Well, I hope it's from West.

Yes, sir. We'll know in a moment

whether it's safe for you to proceed.

The paper's blank.

Uh, it's invisible ink, sir,

in case the message falls into the wrong hands.

You never know with pigeons.

Well, then make it visible.

Yes, sir.

I'm sorry, sir. We seem to be out of a secret ingredient.

Now?

Uh, you wouldn't have a sp-

Uh, something medicinal

about you, would you, sir?

For the message.

Oh...yes.

Yeah.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you, sir.

There we are.

Uh-huh. Let me see it.

"Three blind mice-

"Three blind mice went skating over the pond

and fell through a hole in the ice."

Well, there's your answer, sir.

My answer?!

Mr. Gordon, I'm afraid that you and Mr. West

are long overdue for a long vacation.

Oh, no, sir, that's in code,

you see, in case it fell into-

I know. "One never knows with pigeons."

Exactly, sir. All it says is you can't go to Gibsonville.

What?

Well, the reference to "three blind mice"

means that things aren't very clear.

It's difficult to see just what's going on.

The thin ice reference

means that there's a great deal of danger

just under the surface of things.

And to think I wasted good bourbon to read that rubbish.

Well, I'll admit it isn't literature, Mr. President,

but I can vouch for Jim's accuracy.

I'd advise you not to go.

On the other hand,

I have a debt of honor to the Gibson family.

It was Josiah Gibson's last wish

that I dedicate the statue of his son.

Well, you've turned down

personal requests before, Mr. President

Not of this nature.

Do you know what happened to Colonel Gibson?

No, sir.

He was in my command,

during the last days of the war.

Lee decided to start an offensive

against Fort Stedman.

A daring plan.

One that would have hurt us badly had it succeeded.

Yeah, I remember the strategy, sir.

Colonel Gibson was a rather unusual officer.

Difficult in many ways, a strange young man.

It was his company

that had to stand the brunt of this attack.

They managed to turn the enemy...

but not before he and his command

were completely wiped out.

Mr. Gordon, I sent him into that battle.

I shall go to Gibsonville to dedicate the statue.

Yes, sir.

Oh, be careful, Mr. President.

The glue hasn't completely dried on it.

Hm, what is it? Uh, some sort of a model?

An idea of mine, yes, sir. I call it a "land crawler."

It consists of an armored carriage

with a small steam engine inside to propel it.

There are two gun mounts, one in front.

That on top is a gun turret.

I think with enough of those...

we can eventually eliminate the need for cavalry completely.

You know, Mr. Gordon...

it's men like you

who'll eventually take all the fun out of war.

Morning, citizens.

Good morning, Mr. West.

Stick 'em up! Stick 'em up!

Your bird seems to have a limited vocabulary.

The parrot belonged to the late Colonel Gibson.

He taught it everything he knows.

Fine. I see.

You're all here because you're wondering

why I'm staying on in Gibsonville.

And I'd be delighted to tell you

after you tell me why you've stayed on in a ghost town...

when at any moment, it could mean sudden death.

Uh, would you mind starting, doctor?

Uh...ah, health.

I stay here for my health, young man.

I find the spring water here beneficial for my gout,

from which I suffer recurring attacks.

I remain here to drink the water.

Uh-huh. Mr. Pernell?

Research is my actual reason for staying in Gibsonville.

I'm in the process of preparing

an extremely complicated legal brief,

having to do with certain land-grant matters.

Though the recorder's office has, um, ceased to function,

I have found in the dusty archives

certain legal records which have

a definite bearing on this case.

And these, I have no doubt, will eventually alter

geographical boundaries throughout the entire Southwest.

How about you, Bert?

I stick around here to help my sister Jenny

run this hotel, that's all.

Ain't that enough?

And you, sheriff?

I am a lawman, Mr. West.

I was chosen for my job by the good citizens of Gibsonville,

and I feel it's my bound and duty

to serve out my regular term,

no matter if all but a few

of those good citizens see fit

to...move on to greener pastures.

Keeping the peace is a sacred trust.

As I see it-

Oh, shut up! You liars!

Hypocrites!

You haven't had a drink of water in five years!

Research? You know not a scrap of paper was saved

when the recorder's office burned.

And as for you, sheriff,

when have you ever arrested anybody but a helpless drunk?

No, none of you fool me.

You all stay here for the same noble reason

a vulture hangs over a dying steer.

That's very interesting, Miss Jennifer,

as far as it goes, but then...

why are you here?

Because this is my town.

The Gibsons may be dead,

but I'd have been a Gibson if Wayne had come back.

We were secretly engaged to be married.

Whatever is here would have been mine.

And so long as I live, I'll never leave it!

But if there's nothing here-

Oh, but there is.

That's why this...

fine group of jackals

are skulking about.

Josiah Gibson was enormously wealthy.

But during the war, he was afraid

that a big inflation might make the currency worthless.

He converted his entire capital into gold bullion.

It must have been a huge amount.

But no sign of that fortune has ever been found.

I see. That's why the town is torn up.

Why men are chopping away at wooden Indians.

Like Davidson said, you're all digging for gold.

But none of you has a legal right to it.

The moral right is mine.

I am a Gibson in everything but name.

Dead man's gold belongs to the finder, I say,

and I'm the law!

I took care of old Josiah many a year...

right up to his deathbed.

Manys a time, he told me-

that's after his son was killed

-that he wanted me to have his money.

You're awfully quiet, counselor.

Those who have a genuine legal position

have no need to quarrel with the common herd...

whose claims are spurious.

Uh- Uh, try that again in English.

Gladly. Before Josiah Gibson died...

he and I entered an agreement of full partnership.

Therefore, at his demise...

what was his became legally mine.

Prove it!

Of course.

I have my briefcase right out in the foyer.

You still haven't told us what you're doing here, Mr. West.

He's dead.

It's him! It's him!

Hullo!

I say, is all of America like this?

I've been out there on that street for over an hour...

and there hasn't been a single soul on that street at all.

Possibly because we've had

another mysterious murder in here.

Oh.

Oh, I say.

Oh, bad show.

Just who or what are you, mister?

Uh, Iangelico Cooper-Fennistone here.

And whom may I have the pleasure of addressing?

Hollis. Sheriff Tom Hollis.

Hullo. Charmed, I'm sure.

I say. Are you a real sher-?

Oh, yes, of course.

There's your badge.

Oh, how marvelous.

I say, I don't have my camera with me now,

but...would you mind if I took your picture later?

Uh, what brings you here, Mr., uh...

Uh, Cooper-Fennistone.

Sir Iangelico Cooper-Fennistone.

You may call me sir.

Uh, big game brings me, of course.

Very big game.

And-

And, uh...of course,

studying your...quaint local customs here.

I'm sure we can show you many of our quaint local customs...

but right now, we've got a job to do.

Ah, yes, of course.

Uh, are you going to arrest anyone

for the murder of this poor chap, sheriff?

Well...guess not.

We all got each other for an alibi.

Ah.

There was nobody near him when it happened.

Sheriff, you and the doc remove the body.

I want to examine it thoroughly later.

Might as well take him down to my office.

I'll write out the death certificate.

I got a stack of 'em.

I'll talk to you later,

as soon as I get John Bull settled here.

Do you, uh- Do you want a room here?

A room? Oh, good heavens. No, no.

I've been...

camping just outside of town.

No. I would appreciate some...tips, so to speak,

on how to handle the local wildlife.

Oh, I can provide that.

Splendid. Uh-

I say...

uh, would you know

where I might find some buffalo around here?

Uh-uh.

Oh. Odd.

You look the type who might.

Well...

now for those pointers.

Excuse me.

Oh, of course.

Let's talk outside.

Fraud! Fraud!

Fraud.

Vulgar feathered American.

My message was specific.

This town is too dangerous.

I'm sure you're right, but I couldn't very well

order the president to stay away.

He outranks me slightly.

He's coming here when?

Tomorrow.

Best I could talk him into was giving us 24 hours

to make Gibsonville a sweet and pleasant place.

Fat chance. It's a ghost town, and it's getting ghostlier.

Uh...

that, I take it, is the hunk of bronze

for which the president is willing to risk his life?

Uh-huh. That's the late Colonel Gibson.

Rumor has it that it's his ghost

that's seeking vengeance on this town.

A ghost who breaks necks?

Oh, come on, Jim.

I wish I had a better answer. One thing is for sure.

The secret lies somewhere in that old hotel

built by Josiah Gibson.

I wish I knew where the music came from.

Music? What m-

Oh, you mean that organ that I heard

when I first came in?

Yeah. And...whenever there's a broken neck,

there's always-

There's always music.

Hm.

You know, I once played the organ on a showboat.

You know what made me give it up?

No, what?

People kept offering to break my neck.

It's him. It's him.

It's him.

Why, Artie? Impulse.

Stick 'em up. Stick 'em up.

I got to thinking about something you told me yesterday

about this bird belonging to the Gibsons.

Do you remember? Hm.

And it occurred to me

that it might be able to tell us something,

like, uh...where the old boy hid his gold,

or who the killer is.

Something.

You think you can make this bird talk?

Parrots do that, Jim.

You can laugh if you want to.

Uh, I think it might tell us something that's a clue.

It's worth a try.

It's my impression

it's not a very friendly bird, Artie.

Maybe he just hasn't been approached

in the proper spirit, that's all.

Maybe.

Cute little birdie,

you'll talk for Artie, won't you, huh?

Yes, you will now.

Ooh, did-

Hold it!

Fraud! Fraud!

That bird just doesn't trust anybody, does he?

Artie, let's, uh, proceed with our original plan

and search the place.

Might as well. He's no help.

Loudmouth.

It's Bert's room.

I checked him earlier before you got here.

He's still sound asleep.

This was Abel's room.

Well...

Not overly neat, was he?

All the buildings are like this on the inside.

Everything's been searched.

It all seems solid, Jim.

It can't be, Artie.

Abel couldn't have gotten out of his room.

Hm.

Woman's wedding dress.

She never got to wear it.

Artie, meet Abel.

Oh!

That must be Bert.

To the late Bert Caine.

Devil will have his hands full today.

Ah. Aah!

Now we're getting down to the hard core of things,

with both of Jenny's brothers out of the way.

Here comes Lord Gut Rocks.

What do you suppose he's wanting?

Who cares? We'll have a little fun with him.

Come in.

Hullo.

I hope I'm not intruding.

Nope. Come on in.

Save me the trouble of coming after you.

Oh, thank you so very much.

Uh, you see, I just heard about the...

ghastly murders

that occurred last night,

and I sort of thought I'd pop over

and get an official view on matters, so to speak.

Where were you last night, mister?

Watch yourself, limey.

Been so many victims this year,

it's run out of suspects.

I mean it! Where were you?

Why, i-in my bivouac, of course...

reading Homer's narration of the fall of Troy.

Chapman translation.

Any witnesses to that fact?

Uh, oh...

No other persons present, no.

The only caller I had was a rather...

large serpent,

which I slew, uh-

Rattlers...I believe they're called here.

Uh, here.

Must have been a big'un. How'd you kill it?

Oh. Shot it between the eyes, of course.

Uh, would you join us in a shot of...

pop skull, limey?

Oh. No, thank you very much.

You're most kind, but...

I'm afraid my palate

hasn't quite been that Americanized as yet.

Oh, why don't you try some of my brand, won't you?

There you go.

Little spot for you.

It doesn't take much of this, you know.

And a spot for you there.

Well...cheers.

Ah!

Aah. He-he-he.

Ahh. Oop.

Ahh.

Ha, that's the real thing.

Oh, yes, I think you'll be rather...

stunned by the results.

Now all jesting aside, sheriff...

I have a theory about these murders,

which I think you might find rather interesting.

Let's hear it.

Well...it seems to me,

considering the unusual nature

in which the bodies have all been transported,

that, uh...

there must be two very strong men working together.

This would account for the fact that, uh...

the victim has always been so easily overpowered...

and their necks broken without any sign of struggle.

Makes sense. Two men?

Of course it does.

Say like, you and that West fella.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

I was rather thinking that you and Dr. Gavin here...

eh, might be the source of the danger.

And so for that reason, gentlemen,

I'm afraid that you're going to have to miss...

the visit of our esteemed president.

Pleasant dreams.

I couldn't have made a mistake on the dose.

Colonel Gibson.

Just as I thought. You thought?

You didn't die leading your men nobly into battle.

But I did.

My poor body was mangled almost beyond recognition.

You were identified by your papers and your insignia of rank

that you placed on the body of some poor dead soldier

before you run and hid like the coward that you are.

History says you lie.

History's written by men.

And men make mistakes.

History loves dead heroes.

I am one of them.

You're a common murderer.

The only thing I want to know is how you did it.

You will very soon find out!

Ooh!

Now open the door.

I said, open it!

Open it!

I heard all the noise.

W- Wayne!

Give me the gun, or I'll break her neck.

Hand it over.

Ah!

One last thing before I kill you, West.

Why were you sent here?

Was it about my father's money?

Money? No.

No, I was sent here by your ex-commanding officer...

General Grant.

He wanted me to correct

the inscription on your monument.

Inscription?

What's wrong with my inscription?

I'm a hero.

Oh, if you believe that, then you can't read.

You're lying.

Show me.

I know you're lying.

You're like all the others.

Trying to find my father's gold.

But it's mine.

I'm his only heir, and I'll find it.

You hear me? I'll find it!

It's him.

And I'll escape this tomb of lonely rooms

and secret passages forever.

Gibsonville. Isn't it lovely

without all those idiot people cluttering the streets...

hampering my search?

But I got rid of them... drove them out,

one way or another.

Those you couldn't drive out, you killed.

Maybe there isn't any gold.

Maybe it's just an illusion.

No.

It's here in this town.

And with everyone out of the way,

I'll level this place to the ground if I must,

but I'll find it.

Now turn around.

"Who died gallantly in battle

"with his entire company

in the defense of Fort Stedman."

You lied, West.

It says I'm a dead hero.

Now you can join me.

Colonel Gibson...

I command you to put that gun down.

General, I-

Put it down, I said!

I never thought I'd live to see the day

when an officer of mine behaved in this manner

in front of a young woman.

Need I remind you, sir,

that you are a gentleman?

The son of my dear friend Josiah?

I'm glad you could make it, general.

My pleasure, Mr. West.

Give me that gun, colonel.

I can't, sir. I have to-

Colonel!

I command you

in the name of everything we both hold dear.

In the name of the days

we fought side by side together.

At Cold Harbor...

Vicksburg...

Richmond.

There's some mistake, general.

I was dead before Richmond.

Let him go, Mr. West.

Of course.

He had to have a partner to survive in the hotel.

Yes.

It worked out very well.

We got rid of all the foolish fortune hunters.

Now you two will be the last.

Ohh!

There.

The gold.

My gold.

I found it...

at last.