Original subtitles

NARRATOR: "The Rifleman," starring Chuck Connors.

Next.

Charlie.

Mr. Gangling.

$20, $10, $30, Charlie.

Thank you, Mr. Gangling.

Thank you.

You men figure out how to spend

the money on your own time.

Now, get back to work.

Get right back, Mr. Gangling, yes, sir.

Oh.

Hello, Mr. Gangling.

I'm just putting my pay away.

You're taking quite a chance carrying that money belt

around, aren't ya, Charlie?

Seen too many banks close their doors, Mr. Gangling.

They say you still have the first dollar you ever earned,

Charlie.

I'm curious if that's true.

It's just my farm money, Mr. Gangling.

Find some land to ease my head, put some roots down.

Ain't enough there to interest a big man like you, Mr. Gangling.

Bigness is relative.

Charlie.

The ant gazing at a sandpile, to him that's a mountain.

Right now, that's me, Charlie.

I'm looking at a mountain.

That's my farm you're holding, Mr. Gangling.

I've got a proposition, Charlie.

One month is all I need.

I'll fatten this by 10%.

I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Gangling,

but whatever it is, I ain't interested.

I'm in a jam, Charlie.

I need this money badly.

All right.

All right.

All right.

I just thought I'd ask.

Charlie, I come to pay the money I owe ya.

I didn't do it, Mr. Gangling.

The railroad's sure coming along.

Another couple of weeks, they'll

be inside the county line.

I guess we'll be considered officially civilized, huh?

Morning, Mr. Gangling.

Morning.

This is Marshal Torrance of North Fork.

Marshal.

Mr. Gangling.

The cook will only need two beefs this coming week.

I laid off some men.

I'll have them here Friday.

Good.

Something on your mind, Marshal?

Yes, I'm here about that troubled you had this morning.

Yes. Yes.

My vigilantes are still out trying

to track down the Indian.

I happen to know John Wing very well.

He used to do some farm work for Lucas here.

He never had any trouble about him stealing, did you?

No, I didn't.

Maybe he never saw anything valuable enough

to steal before?

As I understand it, you caught the Indian going

through the old man's money belt?

Charlie Breen.

They tell me the old man worked hard every day of his life,

saved his money so that when the time came,

he might retire without any worries.

You actually see Johnny Wing kill him, Mr. Gangling?

When I come upon an Indian standing over a dead man, who

a few moments before I personally paid a full month's

wages to, I simply add 2 plus 2, and apply

pressure to the trigger finger.

Unfortunately, in this case, my aim was a bit off.

Mr. Gangling, I want you to rescind that shoot on sight

order you gave your men.

This camp has its own legal authority,

so don't you go telling me what to do, Marshal.

I'm keeping that order because it's

the only safe way to go after a thief and a murderer

like Johnny Wing.

With any kind of luck, we should be rolling him in his grave

before nightfall.

What's bothering the Marshal and the rest of us,

is your men roaming around our territory

with itchy trigger fingers.

Now, you'd feel different if it was your job

to keep order among 200 men.

Knowing that among them are criminals

of every stripe and nature.

Quick justice is the only way to keep them in line.

Keep down the kind of thing that happened here this morning.

Look, Mr. Gangling, we bring up our families in these parts,

we teach them to respect law and order.

What's happening here is little different from mob rule.

You exaggerate, Mr. McCain.

We happen to catch the Indian alive,

he'll be given a fair and impartial

trial, the same as he would in your town of North Fork.

[knocking]

Well? Well?

Well?

He's kind of leading us a chase, Mr. Gangling.

Doubling back on his tracks.

BY the amount of blood he's leaving behind, I'd say--

I'd say sooner or later, he's gonna crawl off some place

and die all by himself.

Brother Davey is staying on his tracks.

We come back for fresh horses.

You're Jeb and Vale Croton, aren't you?

I'm Lucas McCain.

We met a couple of years ago at the grain auction.

I didn't know you boys were working as vigilantes?

The hills ain't been as lucky with the rain

as the flatlands, Mister.

GANGLING: All right, already.

Go get a change of horses, and better luck next time.

Gangling, who's the judge when your committee tries a man?

I am.

And your paid hands are the jury?

That's right.

Pretty convenient kind of law you got here.

I want it understood when you begin laying tracks in North

Fork, your kind of law stops.

I never had any other thought, Marshal.

Well, I finally got it all figured out, Miss Lou.

What?

Your fresh egg business?

Yep.

Instead of selling eggs the first year,

I'm gonna let them hatch.

Raise cooking hens instead?

Not for cooking.

A chicken only brings $0.12 cleaned, and that's work.

But a chicken all by herself can lay 100 days a year.

So I figure if I let them hatch instead of making money

the first year, then I've got 100

times as many eggs the second.

That seems to make sense.

Pa sure is going to be surprised to find

a regular woman's meal when he gets here.

Not that he objects to my cooking much.

Speaking of those eggs, it occurs

to me if I had some right now, I could make a cake for dessert.

There's probably half a dozen in the roost.

That should be fine.

Of course, I can always squeeze a hen

or two if you want some more.

You can do what?

Why sure.

It's an old farmer's trick.

Just grab the hen by the legs, turn it upside down--

ah, I bet you used to do the same thing

all the time back in Ireland.

I'm going to turn you upside down, young man,

if you don't stop joking and go get those eggs.

[rustling]

I need a horse, Mark.

I can't help you, Johnny.

They're looking for you. - I didn't do it, Mark.

I didn't.

Then why don't you give yourself up?

They'll kill me.

It's the law of the camp.

A thief is hanged within the hour.

Help!

Don't yell again.

It wouldn't be right for me to help you,

but I could go get Marshal Torrance, if you want me to.

Mark, I'm taking that horse, and your saddling him for me.

If you weren't guilty, you'd give yourself up.

They'll kill me.

They'll call me a murdering, thieving Indian,

and they'll kill me.

Get away from that boy. Johnny Wing.

He's hurt bad, Miss Lou.

Go get some hot water and bandages, Mark.

Pa's riding up now.

We're gonna have to tell him sooner or later, aren't we?

Uh-huh.

Oh, hello, Lou.

Lucas.

I thought that cooking I smelt was put together with

a lighter touch that Mark's.

No offense, son.

Oh, sure.

I dropped by to sign up as a regular customer

for Mark's eggs, and thought I'd stay and help with dinner.

That's mighty kind of you, Lou.

Something wrong, Mark?

No.

You sure?

Well, if you two will sit down, I'll serve dinner.

What did you and Micah find out at the railroad camp?

There's nothing we can do to stop

the vigilantes from shooting Johnny Wing on sight.

You think he's guilty, Pa?

I don't know, son.

I don't know him that well.

But a man can seem one thing and be another.

Well, when he worked for me those few days at the hotel,

he seemed to be honest.

And if he wanted to steal, there was

ample opportunity at that time.

Well, a railroad camp is a rough place.

You take a young man with the gambling

and drinking that goes on, I guess it could lead to trouble.

But it's not right to hang him without a trial, Pa.

Oh, he'll get a trial, son, but it's

not the kind you're used to.

But a vigilante committee is accountable for it's actions.

You mean Johnny Wing would have

to be handed over to that Mr. Gangling same as to a Marshal?

That's the vigilante law, and it's a rightful one, I guess.

Pa, there's something I want to tell ya.

GANGLING: McCain!

What are you doing here?

Mr. McCain, do you know the penalty

for harboring a fugitive?

What are you talking about?

We found Johnny Wing hiding in your barn.

Your facing law officers, Mr. McCain.

Mark, did you know Johnny Wing was in the barn?

That's what I was about to tell you, Pa.

It was my fault, Lucas.

Using a woman as an alibi may work

on the side of the county line, but don't

try it in my jurisdiction.

All right, Gangling.

Here's your pay for the cattle you delivered.

Don't bother delivering anymore.

Let's go.

They may call it vigilante law,

but that boy hasn't got a chance.

I won't argue the point.

The laws in these parts aren't perfect,

but they've got to be accepted.

Or else, all the good laws will go down with the bad.

Mark, ride in and tell Micah what's happened here.

I'm going to attend that trial.

You tell him to meet me.

Yes, sir.

Thanks, Lou.

Defendant's name is John Wing.

He's a full-blooded Apache Indian.

He's charged with the robbery and killing of Charlie Breen.

The evidence against the man was that he was seen--

[knocking]

Mr. McCain, come in.

Come in.

I didn't expect you to come back here again ever.

I'm just asking this trial be delayed until Marshal

Torrance gets here.

Our rules are immediate trial with sentence

promptly carried out.

Didn't I warn you that harboring a wanted killer

was a hanging offense?

That's correct, Mr. McCain.

A verdict of guilty here could put

you swinging at the end of a rope along with this Indian.

The law of the camp.

Nothing I can do about it.

The evidence, Charlie Breen's money belt,

seen in the defendant's hand when he dropped

it and ran from the murder.

No.

About $1000 still left out of an original $2,000 or more.

Now, gentlemen, I'll be brief, even though a few words

will be a few too many considering the fact

the case is open and shut.

I like your idea of an impartial trial, Mr. Gangling.

Since when does a judge make such a prejudicial statement?

Judge and prosecutor, Mr. McCain.

The law of the camp has death within the hour for a thief.

After the trial, of course.

We're not savages here, at least not all of us.

This law was forced upon us for our mutual protection.

Every month, 200 men receive their pay in gold.

The minute we lower the odds against swift and sure

punishment, there isn't a man who could go to sleep at night

without a gun by his head.

Now, Wing, the facts are I came upon you

kneeling over the dead body of Charlie Breen,

his body still warm.

You don't deny that.

But that doesn't mean I killed him.

Then why did you run?

Because I saw you coming at me with a gun.

GANGLING: Well, if you hadn't done anything wrong,

why were you afraid of my gun?

Because of the look in your eye.

Well, how would you have me look under the circumstances?

The money belt's in your hand, transferring the gold

from the belt to your own pocket.

No. That's not true.

Suppose I said you wouldn't hang if you told

us where you hid the money.

I don't promise anything, mind you.

I just ask. - I haven't any money.

I didn't kill him.

He does that again, shoot him.

We try to run our trials as orderly

as possible, Mr. McCain.

I can see that.

Now, if Charlie Breen had been killed by somebody else,

why was there still gold left in the money belt?

If the killer hadn't been caught in the act,

he certainly would have time to have transferred all

the money to his own pockets.

If he was killed by somebody else,

why didn't John Wing cry out when he found the body?

When I walked up to him pointing a gun at him,

why didn't he simply raise his hands?

The answers to these questions, gentlemen, are obvious.

I close the case for the camp.

Mr. McCain, you will be given the opportunity

to question John Wing on your own behalf

since the verdict will affect both of you.

Asking him any more questions will only

make it worse for both of us.

Gentlemen, you heard the evidence.

I would like to question another witness.

Unfortunately, the only other witness in the case

lies buried in his grave at this moment.

Mr. Gangling, I was referring to you.

Me?

You were there.

It's an open and shut case.

That's what you said.

Well, if you boys don't mind wasting the time?

All right, make it short.

Mr. Gangling, you have a lot of Apaches

working for you, why?

Surely you wouldn't deny a man the right

to work because of his color?

Let me put it another way.

Do you make a point of hiring Apaches

because they'll accept less money than white men?

That, Mr. McCain, is one of the fine points of economics.

You hire laborers as cheaply as possible.

We pay the Apaches $10 a month.

Even though they do as much work as everybody else?

They're Indians, they don't require

that much money to live on.

How much did you pay Charlie Breen?

$30 a month.

$30 a month.

Then Indians get $10 a month, and white men get $30.

Is that right?

One is an animal, the other a man.

One is an animal.

Mr. Gangling, this spring a lot of the hillmen

came down from their farms, leaving behind starving

families and failing crops.

And many of them are working at various jobs

here for you right now in this camp.

So?

What wages do you pay them?

How much do you pay the hillmen, Mr. Gangling?

That's beside the point.

MCCAIN: You don't care to answer.

$20 a month.

Animals, to use your expression, get $10 a month,

white men get $30, then you must think

these hillmen are somewhere between an animal

and a white man.

Those are your words, not mine.

What would your words be, Mr. Gangling?

In what category would you put these hillmen?

More animal than men?

How much more?

What are you driving at, McCain?

We're all under the thumb.

The pressure never stops for any of us.

Not for them, not for me, not for you.

The thumb squeezes.

The Apache works for a third, takes the money or he

starves in the desert.

The thumb's squeezing.

The hillmen work for less pay because there's no rain.

Crops fail, their families starve.

Thumb squeezing, always squeezing.

You, McCain, the thumb is squeezing on you

to make that mortgage payment.

Squeezing to call that loan.

Squeezing.

You included yourself under that thumb.

What's your problem, Mr. Gangling?

I'm speaking in generalities.

Recalling the facts of life.

We may not like them, but each of us

is faced with these facts every day in our life.

Are you finished?

Mr. Gangling, do you usually put teeth marks on gold coins

you use for wages?

Or payment for supplies?

Of course not.

No, I didn't think you did.

That's a trick generally used by old timers like Charlie Breen.

They identify their money that way, just in case.

Now, if you gentlemen will recall,

Mr. Gangling tossed me these three gold coins in payment

for some cattle I delivered.

If you look at them closely, you'll

see that they have the same teeth marks as these coins

here on the table in Charlie Breen's money belt.

I often changed gold for men at the camps.

Two $5 pieces for a $10.

The explanation is simple enough.

But suppose, Mr. Gangling, we were to look for and find

several thousand dollars worth of gold

marked the same as this gold in evidence here?

Would you then say that we'd found the gold that was taken

from the body of Charlie Breen?

You're suggesting that you'd find

a great number of gold pieces with Charlie's marks

in my safe?

Well, I think your committee would

like to know all the facts before passing

judgment on both of us.

Now it's your turn to listen.

Sit down, McCain.

Sit down.

Cover him.

Big thumb, McCain, you feel it squeezing?

Each of you are going to leave this room richer than before.

That's gold, McCain, it seals lips,

buys souls, buries people.

What's in this bag is going to send them

back to the hills set for life.

The big thumb, suddenly they're part of the squeeze.

Right now, you're all that lies between them

and their big dream.

That might be true, if they actually were

the animals you think they are.

But something does stand in the way, Gangling.

You are talking to men who chose to work

when they became desperate.

Men who wouldn't steal, not even to feed their families.

This man is all that lies between you

and the best land you can buy back in those hills.

Land to grow food for your hungry children.

Now shoot.

Only animals feed their young on the blood

of others, Gangling.

You keep forgetting you're talking to human beings.

Now, shoot, do you hear?

Don't you understand it's yours, yours.

Gold enough so your wives and children can stop rooting

in the ground outside for food.

Pigs root the ground, Gangling.

Not wives and children.

Why do you keep forgetting you're talking to men?

You could become men.

You can stop living like pigs.

Like pigs, don't you understand?

You can become men.

You can live like men.

Have you got the minds of animals?

Have you lived like animals so long you've lost all feeling?

You've turned into animals.

According to the law, I'm voting John Gangling

guilty of thieving and murder.

Aye.

Aye.

Understood him, guess he just didn't understand us.

What made him think we'd take money to kill a man?

He understood money.

Not men.

What's the matter?

This is the third time in a row this Plymouth hasn't laid.

Plus two others missed for the first time.

Are you sure they've mean getting enough feed and water?

More than sure.

If this keeps up, it's going to be

a money losing proposition, Pa.

I don't mind saying I'm mighty worried.

I know.

It's written all over your face.

But there's more to it than that, Pa.

Last night when I was waiting for you to come home

from that trial, all I could think about

was that you would come home.

Nothing else seemed important.

I didn't care if these hens laid another egg

or even if the house burned down.

And here you are this morning worried about a few cents

profit and loss.

Pa, I've been trying to tell myself I've got so

much to be thankful for, but--

I know I have.

[theme music]