Original subtitles

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man.

It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity.

It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and

superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his

knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

It is an area which we call the twilight zone.

commonplace, if somewhat grim, unsocial event known as a necktie party.

The guest of dishonor, a cowboy named Joe Caswell, just a moment away from a

rope, a short dance several feet off the ground, and then the dark eternity of

all evil men.

Mr. Joe Caswell, who, when the good Lord passed out a conscience, a heart of

feeling for fellow men, must have been out for a beer and missed out.

Mr. Joe Caswell.

in the last quiet moment of a violent life.

Reverend, no need. I ain't interested in prayers.

And you're a mortal soul, Caswell.

Are you interested in that?

It's my mortal neck that concerns me now.

And it's gonna be your pleasure to see that it's stretched a couple feet.

Since that book ain't gonna help, might as well make it short and get it over

with.

Judge, you got anything to say?

It's your right, you know.

That's my right, is it, Judge?

The young fella I put a hole in had too much mouth, not enough brains.

I'd invite him out again tomorrow if I had to do all over again.

You shot my son in the back, Caswell.

And that's a long country mile from an invitation to a showdown.

Now, if that's all you got to say, I got this to add.

I'd like it to take a while.

I'd like you to feel it, Caswell.

The more you kick, the more justice I figure there is in the world.

Well, I'll do a jig for you, Pappy. Just like a puppet.

How about it? Can't we get it over with?

I can tell you this, Caswell.

You're an evil person.

You're a disease.

And when we hang you...

It's a service.

All right.

Get on with the job.

Oh, my dear God.

What happened to him?

Try to relax.

You're going to be all right.

I'll explain to you what's happened.

Where am I?

You're a long way from home, old friend.

A very long way.

Where?

You're in New York City.

Eighty years from the last moment of your recollection.

By this.

This is a time machine.

What's happened to you involves principles which you wouldn't

understand.

For the moment, I don't know what your past was.

But you've got a most distinguished future.

You're the first time traveler in the history of man.

And I'm going to introduce you to a whole new world.

And you're going to tell me about an old one.

At 8.15, the subject appeared desperately tired.

So I put him to bed.

After two hours, I discovered the following.

His name is Joseph Caswell.

He tells me he was a trail boss on a cattle ranch in the territory of

Montana.

His last moment of recollection was November 14th, 1880.

He says he was riding herd when...

Suddenly, he blacked out.

He awoke to find himself on the cot of my laboratory.

He felt no sensations and... Only in the last few moments did he

seem to have any grasp of what has occurred.

There's one disturbing point.

There are the marks of a rope etched deeply into his neck.

He has no explanation for this.

And I have one other observation. It's hardly scientific.

I don't like his looks.

I don't like the eyes or the face or the expression.

I get a feeling of disquiet. I get a feeling that I've taken a... 19th

century primitive and placed him in a 20th century jungle.

And heaven help whoever gets in his way.

Fire right out of there.

I thought you were tired.

I am.

There's plenty of time to sleep.

Plenty of time for that.

Now I want to look at that world out there.

I want to see if there are things out there like you described to me.

Carriages without horses and the buildings that rise to... They're out

there, Caswell.

Things that you've never seen before.

Things you can't imagine.

But some things don't change.

Ideas.

Concepts.

Things like right and wrong.

I know all about right and wrong.

Once there was a deputy sheriff in Dodge City trying to beat the difference

between them into my back with a wet rope.

I know all about right and wrong.

And what about justice, Caswell?

What about justice?

Am I supposed to know about justice?

More than most men, probably.

Right and wrong, they can try to beat into you.

But justice, Caswell, this came at the end of a rope, didn't it?

That's where you were when I reached back into time. You were at the end of a

rope, weren't you, Caswell?

Six or eight feet off the ground, and I got to you in that one fraction of a

moment before your neck was broken.

When you're dangling at the end of a rope, it don't matter whether you're one

foot off the ground or 100.

You killed someone.

A whole territory full.

I stopped counting after 20.

I'm going to have to send you back.

Back. Back to where you belong.

Back to that very moment, if I can.

And that's supposed to be justice, huh?

I died once already, mister. I've been to hell.

Now I'm back.

And those 20 men that you killed, Caswell, they died with no discomfort?

Mister, you're just talking words.

Justice. Right and wrong.

They sound good in this nice warm room.

With a nice full stomach.

Just a few feet away from a soft bed.

They sound nice and they go down easy.

But you just try them on an ice cold mesa.

Where another man's bread.

or another man's jacket stands between you and staying alive.

You get in this machine of yours and you go back to where I was and you talk

about your law and your order and your justice. They're going to sound

different.

Mister, I know your kind.

You're... Clean-faced, you Johnny-come-lately dandies. You come out

in your warm trains, rolling over the graves of men like me.

I just hate you, okay?

observation. It's hardly scientific.

I don't like his looks.

I don't like the eyes or the face or the expression.

I get a feeling that I've taken a 19th century primitive and placed him in a

20th century jungle.

And heaven help whoever gets in his way.

25 seconds.

What'll it be?

Expensive evening for you, pal. That's gonna cost.

Hear me?

There's so much noise.

Look, buddy, if you don't pay for it, I'm gonna have to.

So let's have no trouble, huh?

If you got any... Easy, pal, easy.

Just bring me one of those.

Well?

Nothing, pal. No argument.

No argument.

What is it?

Where's them music come from?

Nothing. That's a jukebox. Just a plain old jukebox.

You been in stir, buddy?

No, it's... It's just that I need some sleep.

And those... Those things that are running around.

Things?

Those... Those carriages without horses.

And the... And the lights going on and off.

And the noise.

It's... It's like thunder all the time.

Buddy, why don't you go home and sack down, huh? Get a good night's sleep.

Take a couple of bottles with you. That's what you need is sleep.

Here, take these home with you.

Well, don't you know what that is?

It's a winder.

Here, we'll give you a demonstration, huh?

You got your chance to draw.

Now you better make your move.

All right, cowboy, you gotta pay for this.

Police!

Mr. Ye... Mania... Help me, please.

Help me!

I thought the place was empty.

Just move away from the desk, cowboy.

What do you want?

What do I want?

What do you want, Buffalo Bill?

Well, that's what I want.

Whatever's around loose.

Well, it looks like you got here before me.

Saved me a little trouble.

Thanks.

But I'm here now.

You know, I usually go to bed this early.

So the place being dark, I figured I'd be all alone.

You checked the desk, did you?

I guess you don't keep much cash around here.

Figured maybe a key to a drawer or something.

See?

I expect he's got a wall safe or something around here.

Don't you?

Hey, cowboy, I asked you a question. Don't you figure he's got a wall safe or

something around here?

Help! Help!

Help her!

Help her!

Please, help her!

Cut him down. Hurry up. Cut him down.

That ain't Joe Castle.

That ain't the guy we hanged.

Look at these clothes.

What kind of clothes are they?

Who is it?

This is not Caswell, Reverend.

It's a stranger.

What kind of devil's work is this?

I don't know.

I don't know if it is devil's work.

Did we hang an innocent man then?

I hope not.

I pray to God not.

This is November 1880, the aftermath of a necktie party.

The victim's name, Paul Johnson, a minor league criminal and the taker of another

human life.

No comment on his death save this.

Justice can span years.

Retribution is not subject to a calendar.

Tonight's case in point.

In the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling, the creator of Twilight Zone, will tell you about next week's

story after this word from our alternate sponsor.

And now, Mr. Serling.

The man who lives in this tenement is an aging fighter named Bowley Jackson.

Over the hill at age 36 from leaving too much of himself in too many arenas for

too many years before too many screaming people.

And next week, he looks for a miracle, and he finds it in a little boy.

On The Twilight Zone next week, The Big Tall Wish, something very, very special.

I hope we'll see you then.

Be sure to see the fun-filled family life of one of America's greatest

entertainers, The Danny Thomas Show, Monday nights over most of these

stations.