Closed for the night, mister.
Hang onto your gold dust till the morning.
Well, this gold gets deposited tonight.
Where do I find Ben Victor?
He's likely over the Glory Hole,
but he makes it a rule never - Thank you.
Out, you drunken bum,
and don't come back until you're sober!
You know where I can find Ben Victor?
Thank you.
Uh, Mr. Victor?
Oh, you're James West, of course.
I, uh- I didn't know it showed.
But it does.
The incorruptible eyes,
the federal jut of the jaw.
No extra charge for sitting down.
Thank you.
You got my telegram, I take it.
Why, you timed your arrival to the- To the minute.
Are all federal agents so prompt?
Oh, they are when they're entrusted
with merchandise of some value.
Well, I do like the genteel way you put that, Mr. West.
Your, uh-
Your telegram mentioned
that you'd be needing some vault space...
for storage of your merchandise.
Might I ask how much merchandise?
Twenty-five hundred pounds of gold dust.
Comes to more than a million dollars.
I'm not keeping you from your drink, am I?
Oh. Yes, I think I see your point.
Let's go.
Back!
Draw back from the yawning pit of eternal fire
while there is still a measure of time.
We've heard this before.
Glory's own self-appointed guardian of its salvation,
Hellfire Simon.
Is he really a preacher?
No. But, uh, a little fact like that
isn't gonna stop our Simon.
Go to.
Huddle over the tables of abomination,
clutching the devil's pasteboards.
Lemmings!
Blind, heedless lemmings,
tumbling after one another
into the eternal pit of fire.
Swillers!
Guzzlers of the foul waters
of the river Styx.
Oh, come on now, Hellfire.
You...
How many mortgaged souls have you foreclosed today?
Spawn of Baal!
Hold my hat.
I warned you! You asked for it!
Ah!
Finish him off, Joe.
Great balls of fire.
There she is!
And fiery chariots...
bearing hosts of death and retribution
shall seek out the thrice-warned
eternally damned!
Wait.
Whatever it is, it's glowing like it's red-hot.
Must have hit pretty hard,
the way it plowed into the ground.
Well, Mr. West...
you got any answers?
No, but I have some questions.
Halt!
Do not advance any further.
Fear, Mr. West?
Well, let's just say discretion.
Behold! Behold!
A sign of the terrible wrath to come!
Halt!
Do not advance any further.
I call upon you
to destroy this Sodom and Gomorrah.
This Morning Glory!
This abomination in the eyes- Uh!
Flamin' fishes, she's green!
Green as Kelly's tie on St. Patrick's day.
He will recover...
with no lasting effects.
Oh, what do you do when someone really irritates you?
I do not comprehend.
Well, let me put it another way.
Uh, if it's not classified information,
how did you do that?
I did nothing.
It was the force field belt.
Oh. Well...that explains everything.
Well...
uh, welcome to Morning Glory,
garden spot of old Arizona, Miss, uh...
I am called Morn.
Ask her where she hails from!
From far off.
In your language, it is called Venus.
How is it you know our language so well?
On our planet,
many young people, especially females,
are born with the gift of translation.
It is of the brain.
When you speak,
the vibrations are translated by my brain.
Thus I am able to-
Please forgive us for the trouble we are causing you.
As my sisters have just reminded me,
we have run short of fuel.
Your sisters just now re- Reminded you?
I am sorry.
I forget that you do not know of our method of-
How shall I say it?
of thought projection.
My sisters Alna and Pan.
My sisters...
do not understand your language as well as I.
They wish to know if you can supply us
with sufficient fuel for us to return home.
Well, what kind of fuel do you use in your rig, Morn?
We can supply you with coal, wood, even oil if you like.
No, no. Mildum.
You know, the base metal.
How do you say it in your language?
Wait. I will show you.
That's mildum?
You- You use it for fuel?
Yes. For the reaction motors that power our vehicles.
You have no mildum here?
Oh, w- Well, yes, we- We, uh-
We have lots of this article, but-
We call it gold.
Oh. I am glad.
We will need, in your units of weight,
400 pounds of...gold.
Would you bring it to us now?
What, have I said something wrong?
Uh, mildum, or gold,
isn't just picked up off the ground.
No? But on our planet,
there are mountains of it...everywhere.
But on my planet, it's scarce. Very scarce.
Men often spend their whole lives
digging for it, fighting for it...
and sometimes even dying for it.
Oh.
Then I suppose we shall have to try
to return home with what we have.
Those, uh- Those stones on your clothes...
are they jewels?
Jewels?
Precious stones. You know.
Precious? Not to us.
They are on the ground,
millions of them.
We like the colors, so we decorate.
We decorate clothes,
we decorate buildings...
crush them to make roads.
Here.
Take one.
Ahem. A- About that mildum, ladies.
It, uh- It may be just possible
that we can work something out.
Thank you for your help, Mr. Pettigrew.
You're welcome, Mr. West.
Here's a receipt for your premises.
Are you evicting me from my own office?
Well, let's just call it federal requisition.
In two days, a detachment of troops
will be here to take over the convoy.
In the meantime, this is government property
for which you'll be adequately reimbursed.
Well, that seems fair enough.
It's pretty dry work,
tallying up sacks of gold dust.
Would you care to join me in a dram?
Hm, just to clear the dust.
Corporal. This detachment will remain on full-alert basis
until further notice.
Two men on, two men off at all times.
Yes, sir.
Heh.
Hellfire Simon.
Who else would have
a tricked-out glory wagon like that?
Is that Simon?
Yep. When it comes to salvation,
Hellfire's his own best customer. Hm.
Uh, let me have a beer, please.
How'd the test on them jewels
come out, Mr. Victor?
What? Oh, the jewels.
You know, I never did get around to them.
Do you mean to tell us
that they assay out to plain glass?
Now, Calico, use the brains you was born with.
I don't know anything about jewelry,
but I do know that nobody's going to go around
passing out the real thing like it was confetti.
I'm no gem expert, but there's a simple test.
May I?
Excuse me.
They're jewels.
What do you say about that?
I say it doesn't prove out to a hoot in the wind.
Now, Mr. West is a very capable man
in a great many fields,
but I doubt that he is an expert on gems.
And that is what it would take
to prove the value of these jewels-
I beg your pardon,
would you mind not jostling my arm, please?
Excuse me.
And who might you be, sir?
Uh-huh.
"Dirk Dijon. Precious and semiprecious gems
purchased, sold and appraised."
You're an expert, huh?
Without a peer.
Quite a coincidence you being here, Mr. Dijon.
Yes. Is it not, huh?
I'm afraid I have some bad news
for the owner of these, whoever they are.
Do go on, Mr. Dijon.
This is definitely not a first-class diamond.
Two thousand, $2200 is all you could hope to get.
All right, hold it, men. Hold it, hold it.
What about the rest of them?
The ruby is not of the first water either.
The market being what it is,
the most you could hope to get would be 3000.
All right, now quiet, quiet. Go on, please. Go on.
As to the sapphires...
$800 apiece would be the most they could possibly fetch.
Good day to you, gentlemen.
Men...
I think that we are onto something really big.
Now, there's got to be at least
$2 million worth of jewels
hanging off the dresses alone
of those three uh... Uh...
Well, those three what, Mr. West?
You're a fast man with an answer.
Let's say three out-of-town visitors.
Okay.
There are three out-of-town visitors
right out there in the canyon,
and all they need is a few hundred
measly pounds of gold for their rig.
They've got nothing but rubies and diamonds and sapphires
to barter for them.
Now from where I stand...
I think we can make a deal
with these three heavenly graces,
and while we're at it, make more money
than any of us have ever seen in our whole life.
They are evil.
Let no one be deceived by their color...
for green is the color of evil.
They are evil, I tell you.
Their arrival from outer space is evil.
Their purpose is evil.
They must be destroyed.
Don't you think you overdid that, uh, gem expert bit
with those inflated prices you were quoting?
James, my boy...
I know enough about the glittering stuff
to tell you this.
Those articles are the real McCoy.
Of course. It figures.
Whoever's running this fleecing game
would prime the suckers that way.
Listen, your telegram mentioned something
about a flying pie plate...
whatever that is.
You'll find out in due time.
It's all part of the treatment.
West.
The rope. Tie him up.
How close to the pie plate should we leave him?
Right next to it.
Make it look like he was snooping around.
I hit him pretty hard. Uh, he could be dead.
Not a chance.
Not with a head like he's got.
He will be soon.
You got a lot to learn about tying ropes.
All right, all right. We're close enough now, anyway.
Not with that.
It'd look more like they'd done it
if we don't use a bullet.
See if you can tie him up.
Finished.
Drop it.
You are hurt, Mr...?
No. I'm not hurt.
The name's Jim.
I'm just tired from, uh, playing too hard.
Sit.
What really happened, Jim?
Oh, nothing much. Just...a minor disagreement
with a couple of minor playmates.
Your playmates, they are hurt also?
Well, let's, uh, say they're not feeling any pain.
You know, uh, in case no one's ever told you...
you're really very nice.
You are very nice too.
Uh, I'm more tired than I thought I was.
Is there a place where I could,
uh, rest inside?
I am sorry.
My sisters will allow no earthling
to enter our vehicle.
Ah, that's too bad.
In that case, I'll just have to go back to town and rest.
You're very sweet, Morn,
and it's been fun.
Jim, you will please not play too hard.
Why did you do that?
Well, it's, um...
It's a custom on my planet.
It's called a kiss.
A kiss.
Yeah. It's a gesture of friendship.
If you feel friendly toward someone,
you kiss them.
Do you understand?
I think so.
Morn- if that's your name
I want you to listen to me.
You're mixed up in something very serious.
Mixed up?
What is it that you mean?
Jim, I- I know.
Your sisters have just projected a reminder
that it's time for you to go
and practice your piano scales.
Why, are they-
They dead?
I don't recall ever seeing two people
who looked any deader.
Morning, gentlemen.
Looks like it's working itself up to becoming a nice day.
Now I guess that'll be a lesson to you boys, huh?
Better keep away from our green-skinned friends,
except in the daytime.
All right!
You men get your pokes ready.
Why don't we start weighing what we got?
Nate Kilburn, 18 ounces even.
Just put your "X" right there, Nate.
Uh-huh. There you go.
Mr. William Wingo, 31 and a half ounces.
Very good, Bill.
I'll tell you one thing.
I've probably forgot more about panning gold
than them young fellows will ever learn.
Now let's see what we got for a total.
Mm-hm.
One hundred and fifty pounds,
nine and a half ounces.
That's all?
After all the backbreaking panning and digging we done?
I'll tell you one thing, men.
If we don't do any better than this,
a certain flying pie plate
is gonna be halfway back to Venus
before we get them their 400 pounds of gold they need.
What do we do, Mr. Victor?
I'll tell you what we gonna do.
There's a couple of million dollars in jewels out there
practically begging for a new home.
Now either we come up with a lot of mildum, or
call the whole thing off.
You're my favorite answer man, Mr. West.
You got any ideas on the subject?
No, the only sizable amount of gold is in your vault.
And there's a lot more than 400 pounds of it.
Only problem is it belongs to the United States government.
Well...
...so much for that.
Oh, by the way, Mr. West, when can the government
be expected to come by for their, uh, property
and move on with it?
Another day, maybe two. A week- I don't know.
Uh, excuse me, gentlemen.
I- I don't know much about these things, of course,
but, uh, how do you suppose the government would feel
if, uh... If their funds were-
How shall I put it?
-temporarily borrowed, uh, just long enough
to complete the jewel transaction?
I can tell you...
and anybody else that's interested.
The United States government
would take a very dim view of it.
Good day, gentlemen.
Well, now it's all painfully obvious, isn't it?
Your laughable, utterly ridiculous suspicions
proved right on the head, Jim.
Victor, Wingo, and those other two prize beauties
keep needling the miners about how their...
chances for cleaning up
in a really big way are gonna go glimmering,
unless they can...
get their hands on a big chunk of gold.
And, by coincidence,
there happens to be a big chunk of gold in Victor's vault.
Which the miners are going to get around to sooner or later.
They'll blow up the vault.
They'll take the gold to the pie plate.
And then the pie plate will, uh,
take off somehow.
And, uh, they'll be the ones to blame-
Leaving everyone else in the clear.
Tsk. Neat.
It's the neatest operation I've ever heard of.
Any idea who's running the show?
Uh, right now my number one choice would be Victor,
but...for some reason he's too obvious.
Hmm.
Jerry and Calico-
No, no.
Which leaves, uh, Hellfire Simon, Wingo...
and the, uh, Chinese chef at the Busy Bee.
Choose one.
Well, let me think about it.
Right now if I were you,
I'd, uh, get over to Victor's office.
That's where all the fun and games are gonna be.
Right.
I'll have it manned on a...constant alert basis.
What about you?
Me? I'm going out with a girl from Venus...
taking her to an old-fashioned American picnic.
Corporal?
Corporal.
There's something out there.
Mr. Gordon. Would you come out
and look at what's out here, please?
Well, don't just stand here, gentlemen.
Let's help these lovely, uh...
whatever-they-are inside.
Yes, sir.
Here, get some hot water, plenty of it, uh?
Get some smelling salts or some spirits of ammonia.
No, wait a minute.
Better make that brandy, if we've got any of that around.
Uh.
What- Where are we?
Uh, you're in perfectly safe hands, ladies, I assure you.
You just must have fainted, that's all.
Of course. It is this earth air.
Please understand.
It is excellent air... but for Venusians-
Aren't you going to tell them why we are here?
Shall I?
We are here to beg you for mildum.
Without it, we cannot return home.
Oh, my dear ladies,
what you ask is absolutely impossible.
We cannot give what is not ours to give to you.
You do understand that, don't you?
I suppose that is final?
I'm sorry.
Believe me.
Begging your pardon, ma'am.
What manner of small arms are those?
What? This?
In your language, you would call it-
How do you say it?
An anesthesia projector.
Like so.
Hyah!
Giddyup! Go!
Hyah!
I am glad you talked me into coming on a-
What are we on?
A picnic.
Yes. A picnic.
And I like your earth food.
What is it?
What you're eating came from a bird.
A bird?
A singing bird?
It's a chicken. And chickens don't exactly sing.
Oh, I am glad.
Thank you for the picnic.
I now feel friendly.
Morn, do all the people on your planet
have the same color skin as you do?
Oh, yes.
Do they not have on your planet?
No, we have some variations.
That's funny.
Look at this. It's green, isn't it?
Oh, I am sorry.
I hope it will come off.
It did.
It came off of you.
Jim...
I must tell you a secret.
Yes, I think you should.
You will not speak of this to my sisters.
What?
My sisters do not believe I am old enough
to use this...but I do.
All my friends of my age do also.
Is it all right?
It's perfect.
You know, in- In many ways, uh,
your planet is similar to mine.
Mine is not so friendly.
Jim...
I like your Earth.
I think perhaps I would like to stay.
Stow them evenly there, Calico.
They're heavy.
I know the hands. Feels like 400 pounds in each sack.
All right, let's go. On the move.
Is that it?
That's all.
Giddyup. Hyah!
Hyah! Giddyup!
Thank you for showing me all about picnicking, Jim.
It was a pleasure, Morn.
I like it almost as much as being friendly.
Well...good night, Morn.
Oh.
I'd recognize that groan anywhere.
No, Jim. No, you must go quickly.
Get out of my way, Morn.
You heard him.
Out of his way.
Mr. West, allow me to introduce
our sterling cast of characters.
This is the celebrated Courtney sister act,
known to you as Alna, Pan and Morn.
Congratulations on your performance, ladies.
As for myself,
I am the poor but proud proprietor
of Morning Glory's humble assay office.
Over there we have Mr. Dirk Dijon...
otherwise known as Artemus Gordon,
your dashing fellow federal agent.
Arty...you're green.
Do you, uh, like the shading?
A simple chemical dye...
designed to give him the...
Venusian effect.
The chief feels it will lend
a delightfully bizarre note
when his body is finally found.
I thought you were the chief. No.
Oh, you were supposed to, Mr. West.
Congratulations on your performance too.
Thank you, Mr. West.
It was rather good, wasn't it?
I'm going to miss the old Hellfire Simon
and his unforgettable lines from the book.
Then allow me to quote a few final lines for you
from Ecclesiastes.
A time to live...
a time to be born...
a time to dance...
and a time...
to die.
Exactly 10:40.
Can you both see this timepiece?
You see, there's a considerable amount of dynamite
underneath the floor of our little pie plate here,
wired to go off at a precise instant.
And you, of course,
most considerately want us to know exactly when.
Exactly.
It will, 20 minutes from now, at 11:00.
Boom!
And the explosion supposedly being the pie plate taking off.
Very canny of you, sir.
Long before, you and your jolly friends will have departed.
Arty?
How are they going to depart?
Yes. How?
Well, uh, don't know exactly how they'll leave, Jim,
but from what you tell me...
they came sailing into the lives of Morning Glory on a balloon...
all gussied up with flares
to amaze the simple natives.
Very good, Mr. Gordon.
The only point you didn't cover
was the simple noise-making device
that contributed so richly to the amazement of the natives.
Arty, I've just figured out
how our friends are going to take off too.
Have you, Mr. West?
How?
Wouldn't be possible in a balloon.
Not carrying 2500 pounds of gold dust.
A delight to converse with you, gentlemen.
Go on.
So it'll have to be a wagon.
One that'll never be suspected, stopped
or searched for the million- dollar payload it carries.
Ah, of course. The glory wagon of Hellfire Simon.
Congratulations, gentlemen.
Now you know all.
Not quite.
Was it luck that I just happened here
minutes before the pie plate debut?
Dear me, no.
All very carefully arranged, Mr. West.
You see, originally I had the idea
that it might be valuable
to have the testimony of a trusted federal agent
that there actually had been a flying saucer.
But you showed yourself
to be much too difficult to convince.
Pity. Or you wouldn't be in the spot you're in now.
Yeah. Oh. One more question.
What about the force field belt?
Oh, that. Really quite simple.
A fine wire attached to a harness under my vest.
At the right moment,
two of Victor's muscular boys hauled back on it.
The rest is history.
Adieu, gentlemen.
Loud noises distress me.
So you'll forgive me if I don't linger.
Seventeen minutes before "boom."
Anything on your mind?
Get in the wagon.
Watch your step. That's it.
Help!
Calico. Jerry. Go!
Get out of here.
Ladies, please!
Ladies, I have to get in there.
Arty, have you got the girls?
They're right here! All 13 of 'em!
Yeah-hah!
Ladies! Hey!
Oh, Jim. Jim?
Oh. Are-? Are you all right, Morn?
Oh, yes.
What's your real name?
Maggie. Mm.
You and your sisters are under arrest, Maggie.
That's good. Did you hear that, Artie?
Hm? No, I didn't.
Well, Maggie got a year, the other two five-to-ten.
And Victor got 10-to-20.
Well, it's not enough.
Hanging's too good for anyone who'd turn another man green.
Oh, Arty, you're gonna be the sensation
of all the dinner parties in Washington.
Nothing but invitations.
Oh, yeah, sure.
Arty. It's gonna fade in three days.
Maggie told me.
On the level?
Now, you're not just saying that
to make me feel better?
Honest.
Arty.
Huh?
Come here.
Oh, no.
Now we know what I saw in Morning Glory
was a small balloon with flares attached to it...
but what was that?
I wouldn't know.
Well, I know it wasn't a...
A flying pie plate.
I- I wouldn't know.
No, Artie, more like a...
More like a flying saucer, wouldn't you say?
I wouldn't say.
You want to tell Washington about it,
use that telegraph, be my guest.
Not me. Not me.