There is a fifth dimension
beyond tha t which is known to man.
It is a dimension as vastas space
and as timeless as infinity.
It is the middle ground between lightand shadow,
between science and s upers ti tion.
And it lies between the pit of man's fears
and the summit of his knowledge.
This is the dimension of ima Gina tion.
It is an area which we call the twilightzone.
A commonpla ce, if s ome what? t grim, unsocial event
known as a "ne ck tie party."
The guest of dishonor, a cowboynamed Joe caswell,
justa moment a way 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 outa conscience,
a heart of feeling for fellow men,
must ha ve 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 your immortal 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 going to help,
might as leave 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 fellow I put a hole in had too much mouth, not enough brains.
I'd invite him out again tomorrow if I had it 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, that's all you got to say, I got this to add.
I'd like it to takeawhile.
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.
How? How?
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 gonna tell me about an old one.
A t 8:15 the subject appea red de spera tel y tired,
so I put him to bed.
After two hours I've 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 14, 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 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...
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.
That's fire right out of the air.
I thought you were tired.
I am.
There's plenty of time to sleep.
And plenty of time for that.
Now I wanna look at that world out there.
I wanna see if there are things out there like you described to me.
Carriages without horses and buildings...
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.
Tried 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?
Tha t's where you were when I rea ched ba ck 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 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 one hundred.
You killed someone.
A whole territory full.
I stopped counting after 20.
Well?
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 been to hell.
Now I'm back.
And those 20 men that you killed, caswell?
They died with no discomfort?
Mister, y-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 'em 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 gonna sound different!
Mister, I know your kind.
Your clean-faced, your Johnny-come-lately dandies.
You come out in your warm trains rolling over the graves of men like me!
I just hate your kind!
And I have one other obser va tion ha rdl y scientific.
I don't like his I ooks.
I don't like the eyes or the face or the expression.
I geta feeling tha t I've taken a 19th centur y primiti ve
and placed him in a 20th century jungle.
And hea ven help whoever gets in his way.
There is overtime.
Plea se deposit 25 cents.
Hello? Hello?
There is overtime. Please deposit 25 cents.
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...
Uh, easy, pal, easy.
Just bring me one of those.
Well?
Nothing, pal, no argument. No argument.
What is that? Where does the music come from?
That thing? 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-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?
And 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-don't you know what that is?
It's a window.
Here, we'll-we'll give you a demonstration, huh?
All right, hombre,
you got your chance to drai/I/.
Now, you better make your move.
All right, cowboy, you gotta pay for this.
Police! Police!
Pol ice!
Mister, you...
Man, you...
Help me, please!
Help me!
Ithoughtthe place was empty.
Just move away from the desk, cowboy.
What do you want?
What do iwant? What do you want, buffalo bill?
Well, that's what I want. Whatever is around loose.
Well, it looks like you got here before me.
Saved me a little trouble. Thanks.
But I'm here now.
You knoi/I/, I usuall y go to bed this Earl y.
So with the place being dark, I figured I'd be all alone.
You checked the desk, did you?
I guess he don't keep much cash around here.
I 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?
Hey! Help!
Help, somebody! Help me get out!
Help, help. Help me. Somebody!
Help me! Help me!
Cut him down, hurry up. Cut him down.
That ain't Joe caswell.
That ain't the guy we hanged.
Look at his clothes. What kind of clothes are they?
Who is it?
This is not caswell, reverend. It's a stranger.
Wha t kind of de vil'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 af terma th of a necktie party.
The Vic Tim's na me, pa ul Johnson, a minor Lea g ue criminal
and the taker of another human life.
No comment on his DEA th sa ve this.
Justice can span years.
Retribution is not subject to a calendar.
Tonight's case in point in the twilight zone.
Rod serling, the crea Tor oftwilight zone
will tell you about next week's storyafter this word from our al terna te sponsor.
And noi/I/, Mr. Serling.
The man who lives in this tenement
is an aging fighter named bolie 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 twilightzone next week, the big tall wish.
Something very, very special.
I hope we'll see you then.
Be sure to the see the fun-filled famil y life
of one of america's grea test entertainers, the Danny Thomas show.
Monda y nights over most of these sta tions.