Good boy.
Major Jason?
Yes.
James West, sir.
You, uh, were expecting me?
Was I?
The president sent a letter saying I was coming.
Oh, had he?
Well, what with the Iroquois-
they're getting a little out of hand lately-
the mail service is a little less than perfect.
Ah, Crocker! You blasted butcher!
The letter was in reference
to your report on Sean O'Reilley.
Well, yes, of course.
Troublesome Mr. O'Reilley
seems bound and determined
to start a nice, explosive revolution in Canada.
Go on.
The letter raises the point that-
I'm taking the devil's own time
about collaring this Mr. O'Reilley.
That's the sense of it, yes.
Well, than, How can I be expected to collar him
when I don't even know what he looks like?
Never a description of the lad to go by.
There is an official description of him.
"He's 6'1" or 6'2",
a couple hundred pounds,
green-eyed,
mustache,
and he has a scar
on his left cheek.
Well, now,
how did you tumble to my little charade, Mr. West?
Thought I was doing a masterful job
being a complete, hard-bitten
company commander.
Well, when you addressed
your orderly as "Crocker."
Why? That's his name.
A major, a West Pointer,
would have called him "corporal."
Well, uh...
...remind me of that next time.
What else did I do wrong?
No ring.
Whatever a West Pointer takes off,
he never takes off his ring.
Come on, O'Reilley.
We got a long,
hard ride in front of us.
You too, corporal.
Corporal Crocker,
come on, get in there, lad!
Very adroit, Mr. West.
Now, you'll never get past that gate
because Major Jason himself
and his entire garrison
are prisoners in their own stockade.
You see,
my men control this fort.
Well, we'll let the major and his boys out.
That will improve my odds.
And now, for my next performance.
Mr. West, meet Miss O'Shaugnessy.
Move.
My sincere appreciation
for the use of your uniform.
I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you,
Major Jason.
All right, lads, let's get out of those uniforms.
Hurry it up now.
Pierre, can we move out?
This one is ready.
All right, lad. Take it out of here!
Well, your horse got away, Mr. West.
But you and the others remain.
You'll be joining them shortly.
Not in this world, of course,
because unfortunately,
the dynamite will undoubtedly
obliterate every last one of you.
Any particular reason
for the mass executions?
Two.
To begin with,
we cannot possibly carry away
all of the fort's dynamite.
So why not use the surplus to good advantage, hmm?
Now, that's one good reason.
And the other?
Oh, yes, the number-two reason.
Obviously, when the Iroquois hear the explosion,
they'll send their scouts to investigate.
They'll loot and pillage, naturally,
and leave behind more than enough evidence
to receive full blame for the massacre.
You're concerned about the blame?
Well, it does sound funny, doesn't it?
But you see, after I have established myself
as leader to the North,
I'll be dealing with your President Grant
as a statesman,
as an equal,
and that might be difficult
if my real involvement were known.
That's an excellent plan.
Congratulations.
Oh, no, no, no.
Give credit where credit is due.
Vixen!
Come, lass. I'd like to introduce you properly.
You remember Mr. West.
Allow me to present
Sheila O'Shaugnessy,
recently searching
for the light of knowledge.
Miss Primwick's finishing school.
Presently a student to the world.
Um, Vixen, love,
Mr. West here is what you might call
a sort of a leading light
of the Secret Service.
Senator O'Shaugnessy's daughter?
The same.
Well, you've got Washington in an uproar
and your father's under the impression
that you were kidnapped.
How dull.
Daddy never did have much of an imagination.
An affliction from which
his daughter does not suffer.
It was Vixen here who reasoned out
this ingenious use of the dynamite.
What's life without a woman's touch?
What's death
without a woman's touch?
The wagons are loaded, monsieur.
We are ready to leave.
All right, have the men mount up.
Well,
Mr. West, I must bid you goodbye,
before the Iroquois make a feast of us all.
Goodbye, Mr. West.
O'Reilley certainly should have hear that.
How did he take over the fort?
When the Iroquois started to raise Cain,
half his men infiltrated the fort
disguised as refugee settlers.
And yesterday when most of my men were out on patrol,
they made their move.
My men didn't have a chance.
Major, I didn't know you had women and children here.
Better evacuate them right away.
With what? O'Reilley took every horse we had.
No, not every horse.
Whoa.
Thattaboy.
When do you think the Indians will strike?
Well, the Blackfeet
will hold their big palaver with the Iroquois
at Jefferson Hill in 48 hours.
Soldier.
They'll unite and move this way at that time.
That gives me 48 hours
to get those ammunition wagons
back to this fort, doesn't it?
Any idea which direction O'Reilley will head?
I'm positive north,
probably to meet a man named Andre Durain.
Durain?
Well, he's in British Columbia.
That's right, major.
I hope to see you in 48 hours.
Close the gates.
Tex!
You and Pinto ride back and check on Fort Savage.
After that explosion?
Get going!
You are troubled, milord?
My mind is troubled like a fountain stirred,
and I myself see not the bottom of it.
Troilus and Cressida.
Yes.
That may apply very aptly
to that so-called explosion back there.
So-called?
But we all heard it.
Yes, well, we all heard something,
but was it that rich,
full-bodied disturbance
six kegs of dynamite makes?
I think not.
Perhaps it was-
Perhaps it was what, my love?
A gust of wind may have carried
the full force of the blast
away from us.
Ah, yes, of course, macushla.
You're probably right.
Or was it perhaps,
some hocus-pocus
arranged by a very resourceful gentleman
to make it sound that way?
Give me a drink.
I said give me a drink!
I'm bored.
Bored! That's what I am!
You hear me?
This child is bored
right down from
the topknot to his big toes,
and I've got this here now hankering
to shake things up a mite.
I've seen the elephant,
and I've heard the owl.
I have been every place that was out of bounds,
and done everything that was illegal!
Before I was out of my swaddling clothes,
I killed me every form of critter
that walks, flies,
crawls, or bites.
He's right back where he started from.
Bored!
All the way from his topknot
down to his big toes.
Everybody out, vite!
Hey,
you are a very mean fellow.
What is your name?
Along with being bored,
I got me a distinct aversion
to pushy-type neighbors
who try to strike up a friendship.
I can offer you something
better than friendship;
participation in a project
that is guaranteed
to relieve your boredom.
Well, this child is listening.
Although I must say, you've got the look
of a natural-born exaggerator.
How's the rest of your tall tale go?
How would you like to help me and my associates
take over Canada?
Lock, stock, treasury...
...and every barrel and bottle
we can lay our hands upon, huh?
Well, I might just find a flicker of interest
in that kind of a project.
My name is Durain.
Name's Bluebeard.
Hey...
You the number-one man in the deal?
Yes, are you interested?
This child might be,
if it was distinctly understood
that he's the number-two man of the deal.
Oh, Briscoe here,
he occupies that position.
Unfortunate, isn't it?
Yeah, that could be...
...for the old number-two man.
To our little project...
...and to our new associate.
Well, they ought to reach the fort
in a few hours.
Now, you boys can do
one of two things.
You can yell for help,
and that might attract the attention
of a few Indians.
Or you can work on those ropes,
and in about four or five hours,
you might be free.
Then I suggest
you leave the territory...
...for good.
Good luck, boys.
You know,
one thing my pappy learned me
with a swamp willow switch
when I was just a tad.
Never turn my back
on a one-eyed rattler
unless I was sure
I'd taken the poison
out of his fangs first.
And I'm giving that
one-eyed rattler in back of me
exactly three to put down
his empty gun.
That's one.
Two.
Durain around?
Who are you?
Clint Hoxie.
O'Reilley sent me.
Oh, I've been expecting you.
Let's go fetch our friend here a drink.
Sit down.
Well, how do you progress?
Well, for openers,
we knocked off Fort Savage.
What about the weapons?
Coming out of our ears.
We've got two wagonloads full of rifles
and enough ammunition to keep them company.
Splendid!
And the fort personnel?
Everything going according to plan.
Where is O'Reilley now?
Bedding down in French Meadows.
Good.
You've ridden hard.
A day and a half's worth.
You'll find beds upstairs.
I suggest you take a rest before you return.
Briscoe,
I want you to go to O'Reilley
immediately with a message.
Where is French Meadows?
French Meadows
is just beyond three forks.
It should be this area-
Don't get yourself all tired out
hunting for the place, rattler.
Excuse me for pointing, number-one man,
but that's French Meadows
right there.
As I was saying,
I want you to ride to O'Reilley.
Tell him I will meet him at Beaver Creek
with 2000 men.
Day after tomorrow.
All right, come on, lad,
on your feet.
Keep your eyes sharp.
Mr. West,
is there no end to your persistence?
Well...
...not if you're a man
of Homeric destiny.
Well, I do hope this is the last time
I'll have to live through your destruction.
I find it very unnerving.
O'Reilley-
Your presence has made a difficult task
even more difficult.
I'm either going to have to kill you-
which I could never do-
or take you with me.
You want to go with me? I'm flattered.
To make the journey more pleasant,
I'm just going to apply
a little pressure right here
which will cause a beautiful sleep.
I shall return, my sweet.
Hah!
All right, boys, get to your horses!
Come on!
Let's get a move on!
I had such a lovely dream.
Tell me all about it.
Well, I dreamed that you and I-
You?
You and your pressure points!
Wait 'till O'Reilley gets through with you!
You're always throwing O'Reilley up at me.
What uncommon mood of fate
ever brought you two together anyway?
A common goal, Mr. West!
And that being?
To remove the stamp of tyranny
from the brow of the masses.
Oh, your heart bleeds for the downtrodden?
Yes! And the sufferers?
Yes!
Like the men, women, and children at Fort Savage?
The Indians are experts
at creating suffering.
You're a fraud, Vixen.
Beautiful,
but you're a fraud.
Mr. West,
I suggest you throw down your weapon.
O'Reilley,
I suggest you back up.
One shot and this wagon will go sky-high.
You're bluffing, Mr. West.
Your precious fort needs that wagon.
You won't destroy it.
O'Reilley, you're bluffing.
You wouldn't jeopardize Miss O'Shaugnessy.
Take him.
Your lord seems
easily willing
to have you blown up, my love.
Because you give him no choice, West.
Go ahead. Pull the trigger.
But I'll die hating you, not him.
Oh, come now.
Can't you dislike him just a little?
His ideals are more important
than mere mortal flesh.
Mr. West,
I am unimpressed with this charade.
Yes,
it grows more tiresome by the moment.
And who are you?
I am Jacques Beaumont,
personal emissary from Durain.
Your Clint Hoxie
brought us the good news about Fort Savage.
Glad to have you with us, Beaumont.
Thank you, monsieur.
And you, monsieur!
You are a coward and a blackguard!
You are hopelessly outnumbered,
and yet you persist in exposing
this lovely, young lady
to danger.
Show some fortitude, monsieur!
Throw away your gun
and face this like a gentleman.
There.
Now doesn't that
make you feel much better, huh?
Well, since you put it that way, yes.
Would you like a blindfold, Mr. West?
A blindfold?
Well, It's customary at executions.
Execution?
Has fortitude no reward, O'Reilley?
Alas, the right time,
the right place.
If you will permit me, Monsieur O'Reilley,
but this is neither the right time
nor the right place for an execution.
And what brings you to that conclusion, Beaumont?
Durain was most concerned
that once the coup had been achieved,
President Grant would be unwilling
to recognize our new republic.
And what has that to do with Mr. West?
Well, it occurs to me
that if Mr. West's body
could be found at the scene of our first big battle,
why then it could be made to appear that President Grant
was secretly abetting our cause, huh?
Would this not serve
to thoroughly antagonize
Queen Victoria?
And if that antagonism
were to break into open conflict?
Exactly.
Perhaps you have a point, Beaumont.
Tie Mr. West up. We'll take him along.
And how long have you been
with Durain, Monsieur Beaumont?
Oh, not very long.
But then, a love of justice
always forges the bonds of friendship
very quickly, does it not,
Monsieur O'Reilley?
Well spoken.
Thank you.
Well,
if you would excuse me,
there is much I can do, huh?
Yes, well, we should be leaving soon.
We've got a long day's ride ahead of us.
Fine.
To the cause.
Mademoiselle.
Well, now, have we decided to drink our breakfast
this morning, my love?
Milord,
would you really have forced Mr. West
to blow up the wagon last night,
even if it had blown me up too?
Oh, James, James, James.
You're always hanging around.
It's an occupational hazard.
Lately, I seem to get tied up in my work.
You really should try
to get away from it all.
How were things at the fort?
If we don't get this wagon out of here,
there won't be a fort.
Why, you-
Break, 10 minutes.
Well, now, what have we here, Monsieur Beaumont?
I caught him looking at the young lady
in something less than a gentlemanly fashion.
Fie, fie on thee, Mr. West.
I'm almost tempted myself,
but, really, I find it much too difficult
working up all that indignation.
I've been thinking-
About your sins?
Would you have really blown us up?
What do you think?
If I knew, I wouldn't be asking.
I mean, we could have been killed together.
I know it's probably silly and feminine of me
to really let it matter, but still...
My answer is on my lips.
Wait a minute!
How did you-?
We're back to pressure points.
N-
Hey, sir!
Could you tell me what kind of
formidable spider that is?
Uh, your friend
seems to have fainted.
Tell me, does he have these fits often?
Hyah!
Get on your horses!
Hyah! Hyah!
Artie, I've had some experience
in situations like this,
and I've come to the conclusion
that they always catch up with us
when we're in a heavily loaded wagon.
Yeah, well, has your experience
given you a solution
to this ageless problem, Mr. West?
Well, yes it has.
Well, what's that?
If one of us were to stay back, heroically,
with a few sticks of dynamite,
the other might just make it to the fort.
That's an admirable suggestion.
You! You!
There you are, Artie.
Thank you.
Hope to see you at the fort, Artie.
Yeah...
...maybe.
Hey!
Hyah!
All right, lads, move out.
Fire!
Come on!
Glad you could make it.
Thanks.
It would have been pretty rough with just these things.
Hold your fire!
She walks in beauty
like the night of cloudless climes,
and starry skies,
and all that's best
of dark and bright
meet in her aspects
and her eyes.
What's that?
Lord Byron.
Why are you reading to me?
Because you'll be studying it yourself
in a few days.
Why?
Why? Because that's your punishment.
Somehow, some way we're going to get you
back into the feminine fold,
and you're going to leave the fighting to us.
What's that supposed to mean?
That means you're going back
to Miss Primwick's finishing school.
As a matter of fact, you'll be studying
this in class in two days.
Back to finishing school?
I can't go back!
Why, I've just tasted life!
I've seen the poor and the downtrodden.
What about all those people who need my help?
There are still causes
that need fighters who aren't afraid
to come to their aid no matter what-
Do you think we ought to tell Miss Primwick
where her pressure point is?
Oh, yes, definitely.
Definitely.