The Wild Wild West (1965–1969): Season 2, Episode 2 - The Night of the Golden Cobra - full transcript

Oh, I got you a couple
of times there, didn't I?

Yeah, got me good right here.

Well, Henrietta, my
fine-feathered darling,

what little message
are you bearing?

From the look on
Henrietta's face

it's probably a
bill from my tailor.

We'll know soon enough.

Ah.

"From the office of
Colonel Armstrong,

"commendation
on a job well done.

"Proceed to layover
in New Orleans



"pending further assignment.

Presidential
citation to follow."

How about that?

A presidential citation.

And a layover in New Orleans,

dining à la carte at Maxine's.

Yeah.

If I may mention the, uh,
lovely ladies in New Orleans.

By all means mention it.

I'm going to enjoy this.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Artie.

Mm-hm.

Maybe it's another citation.



Oh, our cup couldn't run over.

Disregard...

previous...

instructions...

and proceed at once

to Pawnee Indian reservation,

Crater, Oklahoma.

Top-secret classification.

Contact Colonel Stanton Mayo.

Well,

there goes our pleasant
little layover in New Orleans.

Whoa.

I like nothing better
than a brisk ride

in the morning.

The president of
the United States

didn't send me
here for exercise.

Why don't we get right
to the point, colonel?

You're quite right, Mr. West.

You've been very patient.

Now the time has come for me
to tell you why I asked for you.

I don't know what you've
been told up to now.

But I am Colonel Stanton Mayo,
Territorial Indian Commissioner.

Highly respected, solid,

foursquare, both
feet on the ground.

But, Mr. West,

I am no coward.

Yet recently, I've
been wrestling

and trying to come
to terms with things

that have made me
doubt my own sanity.

Things that just don't belong.

Things that...

Like that.

What's that?

A maharajah's palace?

Ridiculous.

And what really is
so ridiculous about it?

About what?

About a maharajah's palace,
which this happens to be.

And I'm Napoleon.

I beg your pardon.

I'm registering
disbelief, Rapunzel.

My name is Veda.

Why don't you believe me?

Next you'll be telling me
you're the maharajah's daughter.

I am.

My father is the
maharajah of Karapur.

Ah, I'm sorry I brought it up.

But since we emigrated

to the United States
of Northern America,

he prefers to be known
simply as Mr. Singh.

A very democratic gesture.

Are you all right, Mr. West?

I always feel a trifle faint
when I'm bitten by a...

A cobra.

Shouldn't I be dead?

You should.

But Mudjaz is very
clever about cobra bites.

Charming little fella,

I didn't recognize
him without his flute.

Mudjaz is Papa's chamberlain
of the Imperial Hooded Ones.

Or the family's snake
charmer, so to speak.

You might have thanked him.

For what?

For saving your life.

He could have saved
himself a lot of trouble

if he hadn't zigged
that cobra on me

in the first place.

Which reminds me, Colonel Mayo?

Slightly wounded,

but recovering very
nicely, I am happy to say.

My revered father, Mr. Singh.

Why am I here, Mr. Singh?

That we may savor the pleasure
of your company, Mr. West.

That touches me deeply.

Almost as deeply as
your welcoming committee

tried to with their lances.

Oh, those blundering idiots.

But there, I don't
have to tell you

what a trial servants
can be, huh?

Uh, Veda, tell
your baby brothers

that Mr. West is awake.

Change that.

Mr. West is going.

Going? Oh, but the boys
are so anxious to meet you.

And I'll take Colonel
Mayo with me, if you please.

Where is he?

Or do we have to have a
round of hide-and-seek?

Oh, dear.

Are you sure there's
nothing I can do

to make you change your mind?

Positive.

This is Gupta.

Chandra.

Sarrkan, the baby.

Don't tell me

that these splendid-looking
young men are your sons?

Quite true, quite true.

The jewels of my
heart's treasury.

Eh, boys, this is the
famous James West

you've heard so much about.

It occurs to me that it
would be downright rude

to leave without a little chat.

What's going on here?

There must be some
explanation, I suppose.

Oh, there is.

And I will give it to you
without further equivocation.

Oh, that decanter at your
elbow, it dispenses cashmere dew.

A fine native wine with
an extraordinary bouquet.

Just the explanation,
if you please.

As you wish.

It is my earnest hope that
I can persuade you to stay

and tutor these
fledglings of mine.

I see. Any particular subject?

Oh, come, come, come, Mr. West.

Surely you must be aware

that your reputation
has preceded you?

Has it?

What is my reputation?

Oh, an admirable one.

You have a talent I...

I might almost say
a genius for survival.

Oh, you're
flattering, Mr. Singh.

But survival embraces
so many areas.

And many so dull.

Quite true, quite true.

Begging for mercy,
hiding, running away.

In none of which my
boys are interested.

Which effectively narrows
it down to the one area

in which they are interested.

The gentle art of killing.

Cashmere dew you say?

I believe I will try it.

Candor causes me to admit
that my boys have a certain...

crude proficiency of their own.

Just confirmed my
private hunch, Mr. Singh.

Cangue.

The crate.

Fondly called the lingering
embrace in our circle.

Had Gupta aimed a little higher,

your neck would have
been instantly snapped.

The charmed circle
you talked about,

what is it?

I'm referring to the Society
of the Golden Cobra,

of which I am the
temporal and spiritual head.

As for tutoring your boys,

isn't that a case of
coals to Newcastle?

Oh, not at all, Mr. West.

Since we are newcomers
to your splendid land

of free enterprise,

it is only right that the
children should, uh, absorb

the Western folkways
of sudden extinction.

You do see that, don't you?

Oh, when you
put it that way, yes.

Ah, then you will tutor them.

No.

Oh, these boys.

Thirsty young minds reaching
out to the deep well of your wisdom.

Oh, how can you refuse them?

Perhaps the well
has gone dry, Papa.

Boys, a shame.

Just for that, I
give you permission

to chastise them, Mr. West.

They're youthful
and high spirited.

I am perfectly
willing to overlook

the whole matter, Mr. Singh.

Oh, no, no, no.

I wouldn't think of
taking advantage

of your generosity.

They deserve a good lesson.

Boys, pay attention
and learn something.

All right, boys.

Class is called to order.
Lesson number one.

You should always
keep your opponent...

off balance!

Oh, well done, sir.

Remember those words
of wisdom, children.

Lesson number two, show
your weapons, improvise.

Now, Mr. West, tell us
about lesson number three.

Lesson number three?

Rosebud.

Rosebud?

It's a box of matches.

Of course.

Is it? Or is it supposed to
look like a box of matches?

He's bluffing.

Possibly. Or maybe this
innocent little box contains...

What?

X-51.

Oh, ripping, Mr. West. Ripping.

One of those ultra,
ultra weapons your chaps

are always so keen
on developing, huh?

That's right, Mr. Singh. X-51.

At the slightest
jar, it's detonated.

Capable of destruction,

disintegration.

I still think you're bluffing.

Be still, brother.

What do you intend
doing, Mr. West?

I have an insane urge

to end this whole
dreary charade.

By throwing rosebud.

D-don't be ridiculous, Mr. West.

That would be
silly, wouldn't it?

Very silly, sir.

Oh, yes. Yes, sir.

Very silly.

They are matches!

By George, you're right!

This way, Mr. West.

What do you have
in mind, Rapunzel?

You wish your
freedom, do you not?

That's an attractive
notion, yes.

Then if you follow me...

First, let's find Colonel Mayo.

Forget him.

We shall need enormous
quantities of luck

just to manage your escape.

All right, I'll find him myself.

Not that door.

One door down, Rapunzel.
How many more to go?

Very well.

I'll take you to your
precious Colonel Mayo.

You can't have him,
the door's locked.

You just stand
back. I'll fix it.

Colonel Mayo.

Is that you, West?

Is it really you?

What have they done to you?

You see?

You forgot again.

The king moves
in both directions.

Forwards and backwards.

Remember that.

All right, sir.

I'm very grateful that
you take all the trouble

to teach me Parcheesi.

Oh, for the last time,
John Mountain-Top.

The name of this
game is not Parcheesi,

it's checkers.

Checkers.

It's your move.

Yes, Mr. Gordon, sir.

Another game and
another quarter bet,

Mr. Gordon, sir?

No, thank you very much, John.

Oh, where the devil are they?!

Never mind.

Maybe perhaps you win next game.

And for the last time, John,

if I seem a
little bit irritated,

it's not because I have lost
two games of checkers in a row.

Three, was it not?

All right, three.

Point is that Mr. West
and Colonel Mayo

have been gone all day long.

And I'm just getting bored
stiff sitting around here,

waiting for them to show up.

All right for me to
have an idea, sir?

No, I'm not gonna play you
another game of checkers.

I don't care what
odds you offer.

Not about checkers,
the colonel's horses.

You want I should saddle
one up for you to take

a brisk invigorating ride?

No, thank you, I've
had enough fresh air

in wide open spaces

to last me for
the rest of my life.

You know anything interesting
around this neck of the woods?

There is...

haunted castle.

I don't want...

What?

It's just a joke,
Mr. Gordon, sir.

The Indian boys who do not
have proper schooling like me,

they claim it to be haunted.

Claim what to be haunted?

The castle near Box Canyon, sir.

A castle out here?

Whose?

What's it look like?

I have not seen it.

Colonel Mayo warned
us to stay away.

But the few Indians
who did venture near it...

I know, their hair turned white
overnight from the experience.

Oh, no, sir.

Just severely frightened
by the weird sounds

and the terrible smells.

But of course, these are
ignorant superstitious Indians

who do not have
proper schooling like me.

I see.

Saddle up a couple of the
colonel's best horses, John.

You and I are going out
for a brisk invigorating ride.

All right, sir.

To the jolly old castle.

Oh, no, sir.

It is haunted.

I was having a dream.

A pleasant one we hope.

No, a silly one.

I dreamed I had fallen in
the hands of my enemies.

How nice to find instead
you are in the midst

of your admiring
pupils, Mr. West.

Ah, yes, it's a comfort.

For you, Mr. West, a
token of our, uh, esteem.

Yes, an apple for the
teacher, so to speak.

Oh, for me? You shouldn't have.

What is it?

Should we tell him brothers?

No.

Let it come as a
delightful surprise,

I say.

Last time I saw
a basket like that

Mr. Mudjaz was in the wings
playing a musical obbligato.

A perfect set.

You've thought of everything.

Oh, for you we could do no less.

Come brothers, we mustn't

wear out our
welcome with Mr. West.

Oh, oh, don't leave
on my account.

I'm just hanging around.

We must go, Mr. West.

But it will comfort you to
know that Mudjaz will remain.

Yes, to entertain
you with his music.

I had a feeling that was
the way it was going to be.

By the way, Mr. West,

you'll be more comfortable
since we've removed this knife

from that clever pocket
in the back of your coat.

And this ring of yours

with the amazingly
sharp diamond edge.

You might have
cut yourself with it.

Or the ropes maybe?

Psst.

Mudjaz.

You understand English?

Oh, yes, sahib.

Oh, fine.

Then don't bother
playing on my account.

Sahib, you do not want?

Oh, it's, uh, nothing personal,

but one long moment
of uninterrupted silence

is what I really want.

You savvy?

Oh, yes, sahib.

Mudjaz.

Why are you breathing so hard?

It's the intoxicating
nearness of you, Rapunzel.

An idiotic name,
who is Rapunzel?

A storybook character.

And like you, she
had long golden hair.

My hair is quite dark.

And like you, Rapunzel
couldn't make up her mind

whether to play the
role of savior or killer.

I never tried to kill you.

No?

Then that was a
prize-winning imitation

you put on awhile
back with the blow dart.

Really, Mr. West,

you can be surprisingly dense.

Did it never occur to you

that by drugging
you I saved your life?

That was the hard way
to go about it, wasn't it?

My dear brothers
were due to arrive

on the scene at any moment.

After the way you'd
knocked them about

and humiliated them,

do you have any idea
what they'd have done to you

if you hadn't been
already unconscious?

Probably cut my throat.

Exactly.

So at least I delayed
that for a while.

And don't call me Rapunzel.

I'm sorry, and
I'm very grateful.

I guess this is just one
of those difficult days

when everything
seems to go wrong.

For instance,

I could have sworn
a flock of cobras

were gonna make their
debut out of that basket.

My quaint brother's
idea of a lark.

Mudjaz told me, so I
arranged to substitute myself.

In my opinion, that's a
definite improvement.

What now?

I've devised a plan
for your escape.

I'm interested, go on.

The palace guards
will be back shortly

and unlock the cell door.

Mudjaz would be
here to supervise

the removal of the
basket of cobras,

if you know what I mean.

You expect me to
get into that basket?

I will be in the basket.

And where will I be?

Here, waiting to be brought back

before my father.

I've got a better idea.

If I could only break
out of this cell...

Palace guards would
cut you down immediately.

Please, trust me, Mr. West.

What do you have in mind?

I want you to put yourself
completely in my hands.

I think that could be arranged.

If only Papa wasn't such
a great admirer of yours.

Is he?

Oh, yes.

So much so that I know

he'd adore having
you as a son-in-law.

You mean, you and me?

And that would be a
fate worse than death?

Mr. West, that would be death.

Are you familiar

with the old Indian burial
custom called suttee?

Uh, roughly.

It's the old system
where the wife

is incinerated on a funeral pyre

along with the deceased
husband's remains.

Which I always thought
was carrying togetherness

a little too far.

Exactly.

So if we were married,

considering the hazards
of your profession,

you'd give me a very
limited life expectancy.

I never realized
what a liability I was.

Oh, Mr. West, you
mustn't take this personally.

I... I understand.

You know, you are not
altogether unattractive.

Oh...

now you're just
being kind, aren't you?

Oh, no.

In fact, I've even
toyed with the idea

that it might be rather
pleasant to kiss you.

We'll never know, will we?

No.

Such a pity.

Promise me you won't let
Papa talk you into marrying me.

Anything to please a lady.

Mr. Gordon, sir,

please tell me about
man once more.

Would it help you
feel any better?

All right, John Mountain-Top.

What is man?

Man is a superstitious animal,
and he has been for many ages.

Right. Why?

Because every time
something new arrives

which frightens him,

it is easier to
invent an evil spirit

who is responsible for
some kind of nonsense.

Then he doesn't
have to think or reason.

All he has to do is be afraid.

Right. Is all that clear?

Yes, sir.

Because you
explained so beautiful.

Oh, not at all.

It's just because you've
lost your fear, that's all.

It's clear because
you're no longer

being panicked into believing

that this so-called castle,
where we're going to,

is haunted or any
other such nonsense.

Are we on the right road, John?

John?

Come back here,

you superstitious little idiot!

You are Mr. Artemus Gordon?

I am?

Aren't you?

I-I mean... I mean, y-yes, I am.

Look, lady, would you mind
calling off your pussycat?

Forgive me.

Oh.

Well, thank you very much.

You are a friend and
associate of Mr. West?

Yes, I am. What about it?

If you'll come with
me, I'll explain.

Uh, what about my horse?

We'll send for him later.

In that case, lead
on, Miss, uh...

What'd you say your name was?

You can call me Rapunzel.

Where is Mr. West?

He's, uh, resting, Papa.

Resting? But I sent
those idiot guards for him.

As our guest, he should be
here enjoying the entertainment.

That's true, Papa.

But perhaps
Mr. West is indisposed.

Nonsense.

He always struck
me as the kind of man

who refused to be indisposed.

Well, don't sit
there, fetch him.

Pardon the delay, but I
was tied up for a while.

More fun and games, Mr. Singh?

Mm, as you see, Mr. West,

our great concern is
for your entertainment.

Oh, you're succeeding
magnificently.

For instance,
the lovely surprise

your boys provided
me in the basket.

You liked it?

Liked it?

I wouldn't be exaggerating
if I said I loved it.

Our boys have high spirits
but hearts of purest gold.

Mmm.

This absurd ape
begins to weary me.

One of the unique
national treasures

that India has given the world.

The rope trick.

Are you acquainted with
this little exercise in magic,

Mr. West?

Magic?

I always believed it
was done with mirrors

or mass hypnotism.

A thousand year pardon, sahib.

You are a nonbeliever?

Well, let's just say a doubter.

If I may be permitted
to demonstrate.

Therefore,

I call upon and
invoke the powers

of the four secret corners
of the domain of the crest

and the power of the north.

The power of the east,

of the south,

of the west.

The powers of darkness

are reaching for you.

Extend yourself to meet them.

Siddha!

I, Variabus,

I, Optimus,

I, Baligos,

I, Artemus...

Grab, Jim!

Follow me.

Cute performance, Artie.

I suppose you used the
fine wires with the rope.

Us magicians never reveal
the secrets of our trade.

Wait here for me.

All right.

Whatever you do,
don't go in there.

There's a tiger in there.

Oh...

There's a tiger in there.

No.

We must hurry.

Oh, the noble horse,
man's best friend.

Well, maybe second best.

Now you take care of Rapunzel

with the long golden hair.

Well, thank you. I'd
be absolutely delighted.

Let me have your gun.

Hey, no, wait a minute.

You're not going back
up there without me.

Don't argue with me.

I've got some unfinished
business to take care of.

Your gun, please.

Will you join us in a
game of polo, Mr. West?

What position do I play?

You're the goal!

This game is
beginning to bore me.

Perhaps we can
change it, Mr. West.

We'll let Mr. West be the ball.

Ah, Mr. West,

a man with a mission.

Which involves a question
that I want answered.

Where is Colonel Mayo?

You know, suddenly
I have an idea

that you're going
to win after all.

I don't have time to
indulge your ramblings.

I said, "Where is Colonel Mayo?"

Are you threatening me?

Oh, dear, I'm much
too old for that.

Not too old to die.

Oh, come now.

There's so little of me left
to snuff out, why bother?

And besides, Mr. West,

we all know you have no
talent for killing in cold blood.

That can be a very
serious handicap

when you're dealing
with people who have.

Like you, colonel.

Like me.

Don't do anything foolish

or I shall be forced
to demonstrate.

One side, sir. We have
business with Mr. West.

No. Very pressing business.

Get rid of these clowns.

Colonel Mayo is right.

Run along, boys, and leave us.

No, Papa.

Not till we have
settled with Mr. West.

Boys, are you defying
me? Go to your rooms.

But, Papa...

Not another word, sir. Go.

You gentlemen, uh,
flimflammed me very nicely.

Do you mind telling me why?

Our gracious host's idea.

And not a good
one as it turned out.

You see, it seemed
reasonable to me

that if you saw
firsthand evidence

of how, uh, persuasive

we were prepared to be,
you'd be more cooperative.

My getting to Colonel
Mayo's room was no accident?

Oh, dear, no,
quite the contrary.

Although of course,

Veda had no idea of
how helpful she was being.

And now you're going to tell me

what you mean by
cooperative, aren't you?

Let's take the case

of the hypothetical Indian
Territorial Commissioner.

Administrator of the welfare

of a few thousand
Pawnee Indians,

who are living out their lives
on a hundred square miles

of worthless rock,
scrub and desert.

And then something happens.

Can you guess what, Mr. West?

The hypothetical
commissioner discovers

that the worthless rock,

scrub and desert is
no longer worthless.

A pleasure to
converse with you, sir.

The legal boundaries of
the Pawnee reservation

have not been fixed as yet.

It remains for them to
decide whether to stay on here

or move to a neighboring,
precisely similar tract of land.

Problem?

The Pawnees have formed
an attachment for the land,

as Pawnees will.

Precisely.

And despite all the urgings of
the hypothetical commissioner,

they refuse to leave.

All is lost?

Not quite.

Because there is one odd
quirk in the Pawnee's makeup.

To a man they deeply
respect and trust,

a certain James West.

How did you ever manage
to gain that status with them?

Not by swindling them.

And yet, Mr. West,

the colonel and I
are relying upon you

to persuade the Pawnees
to leave this tract of land

and move on to another.

Do you really think I will?

I think you can be
persuaded to, yes.

Not just to save yourself pain.

There's also Artemus
Gordon to think of.

And Veda.

Veda?

What do you mean?

Quiet, old man.

Don't believe him, Mr. Singh,
he's bluffing and badly.

I sent Artemus
and the girl away.

Did you?

Guards!

Sorry, Jim, they had too
big a reception committee

waiting for us.

Guards, what is
the meaning of this?

Save your breath, Mr. Singh,
they won't listen to you.

They're mercenaries
for sale to any buyer.

I've outbid you.

Be prudent, Mr. West.

It must be quite a
treasure you're sitting on

to kill your partner.

It is, Mr. West. It is.

And I am going
to show it to you.

Guards.

Tie him up.

We're in the
underbelly of the palace.

And there's my treasury.

Imagine that, oil.

Yes, oil.

Black gold: oozing, rising,
bursting out of the ground.

All of which belonged
to Mr. Singh originally.

Yes, he discovered it

while he was building
this stately pleasure dome.

He brought it to my attention
and we became partners.

A partnership so
recently dissolved.

Pity, isn't it?

But I must tell you, gentlemen,
about the geologist I engaged,

about the report he gave me.

Do you know how
far this extends?

No, but I'm sure you'll tell us.

This is not just an
oil well, gentlemen.

It's an outcropping
of a vast ocean of oil

that extends for a hundred
square miles around.

How nice for the Pawnees,
to whom it all belongs.

They don't know
about it, Mr. West,

and they're not going to.

The geologist does.

How are you going to keep
an ocean of oil a secret?

You can.

If the geologist had an
unfortunate fatal accident

right after submitting
his report to me.

I can't stop now, Mr. West.

I don't care how you do it.

But I want you to
employ all your talents

to get the Pawnees to move on.

And if I fail?

Then I shall be
forced to prescribe

a course of treatments for Veda.

Two Sikh mercenaries have
gone to join their ancestors.

I expedited their departure.

And now, you, Colonel Mayo...

Agh!

No! Help me, I can't get out!

Help me!

Oh, West!

For the love of...

It's a fitting burial
ground, huh?

For him.

"To reciprocate in some way

"for the wonderful kindness
you both showed me

"while I was in America.

And so, dear Jim and
Artemus, until my next visit."

Did you want any
help with that, Jim?

No, thanks, Artie,
go on with the letter.

Right.

Uh, where was I? Oh.

"So, dear Jim and Artemus,

"until my next visit
to your lovely country.

"You must remember me by
the present I am sending you,

"typical of India
as nothing else is,

"the Indian leopard.

I hope that you both..."

A leopard?

She sent a leopard.

I know, Artie. I can see that.

But didn't you hear what I
said? There's a leopard in there!

Stand back, you fool!

Jim!

Artie.

When are you going to
stop being so emotional?

Here, take care of her.
I'll get her a saucer of milk.

Oh, great.

You sure are sweet. We
know you'll be all right.

There's a nice girl.

Jim?

You better make that
two saucers of milk.