02x30 - Cage of Eagles

[bunniefuu]

[humming]

[squawking]

[squawking]

Oh, to meet the brute
who did this.

[squawking]

Easy, fella. Easy.

Easy, lad.

Hold it!

I don't know
if you know it
or not, mister,

but you're on
private property.

-Well, am I, now?
-Uh-huh.

So, who are you,
and what do you think
you're doing here?

Well, now, as to
private property,

I never could believe
the dear God

intended for men
to cut up this
beautiful earth

into parcels
for themselves,

holding in captivity
all living creatures
upon the same.

So, as to trespassing,

there's no such thing,

and I go where
my foot leads me,

which is according to
the wind at me back.

Mm-hmm, all right.
Stand aside.

Uhh!

What are you,
a lunatic?

Aye, that I am.

A lunatic.

They locked me away
for protecting eagles.

For, as any
sane man knows,

a thing of air
and freedom
must be k*lled!

Well, that thing
of air and freedom

has been k*lling
our sheep and chickens.

I don't know what road
you came in on, mister,

but you'd better find
that road and get.

[squawking]

[squawking]

Surely you'll
not be keeping
the poor creature.

That's worse than
k*lling it.

Let it go.

May he pick out
your eyes.

You got a horse?

Horse.

It's the rich
who ride.

A walking man
is Patrick Madigan.

Oh, a tr*mp.

From Canada to this
beautiful valley,

spoiled only by the
presence of yourself.

You walked all the way
from Canada?

There were times
when it was necessary
to swim.

Get.

Shall we have
another go at it?

You show your tail
on this property again,

and I'm sure we will.

May he be
your private devil!

And the two of you
in the cage you build
for him!

♪♪ [theme]

[squawking]

All right, my boy,

I want you to take
this good prime beef.

Come on, take it.

Audra, I wonder what
we're gonna think
of Brother Nick

with a face like
a lace curtain.

Nick, the book says

he's supposed to be
blindfolded at first.

"The book."

It also says each time
he takes food from you,

just as he swallows it,
you're supposed to give him
a certain whistle.

Ah. How about
"Turkey in the Straw?

Oh, now, will you two
clear out of here?

I'm trying to tame
this bird,

and I'm not getting
any help from you.

You're not getting
much help from
the bird, either.

What is it, mac?

Did you post a notice
in Stockton

that we want to hire
a dynamiter?

No, we didn't.
Nick, you're going
about this wrong.

Yes, we did.
What do you mean,
"all wrong"?

There's a fella out there,
claims to be our man.

In the first place,
what you have to do

is teach this bird
how to read.

What do you mean,
advertise for
a dynamiter?

The mines--
Sundown Hill.

While your engineer friend's
been poking around,

trying to make up
his mind,

I decided to go ahead
and get a dynamiter,

do it my way.

Nick, you know you'll
never get the major

to agree to that.

Until we closed
that mine,

there was an accident
for every pound of gold
we took out of it.

We just don't need it.

But it's there.

So is the record.

The record?

Fify-year-old record!

They went at it their way.
Where is he?

Right outside.

Take over.

Bear a bit on the handle
like a good lad.

Glory be.

I told you to--

It will be
my pleasure someday

to open that hard head.

Now, it's business
I'm on here.

If you'll just
send out your foreman.

[laughs]
Holy angels.

Is it you I've come to see?

If you're a dynamiter,

why didn't you say so
out there?

I was otherwise engaged.

You a pretty good
dynamiter?

I have that talent.

Where have you worked?

Oh, this is
my brother Jarrod.
He's a lawyer.

Oh, lawyer, now?

Would you care to hear
an opinion of lawyers
and judges?

Not particularly.

Just nice,
straight answers.

Where have you
worked?

Any mining?

Isn't that where
I got me training--

Digging English coal
to warm English noses?

Well, that's
very interesting.

But what would you do
about rocks so rotten

that a mine
had to be closed?

And what's your religion,
and how do you vote,

and what's the fashion
of your nether clothes?

Now, is it a dynamiter
you people want?

I can sharpen a pencil
with a stick of the stuff.

If my word's not good enough,
good day to you.

Wait a minute,
hold on, hold on.

Jarrod,
he's already here.

Pay him his time.

The least we can do
is take him out
to the mine

and let him
take a look at it.

Then he can tell us
what he thinks
our chances are.

All right, Nick,
you do that.

Then pay him
for his time.

All right,
let's get out there.

Well, I'll have
a bite to eat first,

if you've the good manners
to offer it.

And a drop to wash it down.

And a shirt.
For if I'm to dine,

I'll not sit naked.

And you might modify
that master's tone
in your voice.

You've not hired
a flunky.

Air bubbles.
Weak spots.

The whole thing
will come down if
you just holler.

Watch it.

Don't move.

Was it you who posted
that warning?

Here when we opened
the tunnel.

You've the luck of
Flanagan's donkey.

Back. Slowly, now.

Don't touch anything.
Come on.

[coughs, spits]

What was so special
about Flanagan's donkey?

Well, he'd browse
the edge of the cliffs

each and every morning,
heedless of the danger.

Then one morning,
the cliff-top broke loose

and tumbled into the sea,
carrying all.

But was Flanagan's
fortunate animal there?

-No?
-Correct.

He'd eaten thistles
and choked to death

only the day before.

Lucky.

A lovely place.

Some coal
here and there,

and a few lads dying
of the consumption.

It would be a mirror
of my childhood.

[sighs]
I've seen it.

What do you say?

The sensible
thing to do?
Leave it alone.

MAN: Barkley?

Barkley?

NICK: Wilson!

Barkley, where are you?

Up here!

I figured to drop
the whole inside
of this hill,

compact it,
and start again
from scratch--

Open-cut mining.

Ah, the torment
of the rich--

To become richer.

Ah. There we are.

I was told
you were here.

Now, what's all this nonsense
about a dynamiter?

Patrick Madigan,
Major Wilson--

Ex-british corps
of engineers.

Madigan, eh?

If there's a pimple
on my nose,

would you be kind
enough to tell me?

Madigan. Army?

Not yours.

Oh, yes. Ireland.

Belfast. Or Dublin.

If it is, I've not
committed it to memory.

I understand from Jarrod

this man appeared
out of nowhere,
as it were.

Came in answer
to my notice.

References?
Recommendations?

What papers, establishing
that he may be indeed
trusted with dynamite?

Haven't you heard?
It's become an
Irish specialty.

Major,
when I hire a man,

I'm the one
that fires him,
no one else.

WILSON: You don't need
a dynamiter at all.

We re-cut
these passages,

square-timber them.

You said that'd be
too expensive.

And at best would only
postpone a catastrophe.

This hill is unstable.

Then why not my idea?
I know--Too risky.

He says
it's not sensible.

Oh, but did I say
I'd not be willing to try?

You sure change your
mind quick enough.

It's no more sensible
than it was before,

but sensible
is for the man

who means
to die in bed.

A series of charges,
each setting off the other,

would breach the walls,

blow the overhead to dust,

and down would come
the whole interior,

leaving not a space
the size of an egg.

What about the water?

Well, now,
that would be a problem
for the engineer.

But one that shouldn't
be insolvable-- Heh--

With the application
of a little ingenuity.

[sniffs]

It's gettin' a little
stuffy in here.

You're going to do it?

With or without you.

Very well.

I shall return
to the house

and offer every
sound reason

for abandoning
this mad project,

and then offer
to supervise it...

with a different
dynamiter.

Because if that chap
is the man I believe
him to be,

your Mr. Patrick Madigan
is a very violent man,

and having him
on your ranch

would be like
sheltering a time b*mb.

Kelly lay on his back,

and O'Brien crawled
to him in the dark...

and felt for
a sign of life.

"Oh, Kelly," he moaned.

"Kelly, my dear friend,
I feel a wetness upon you,

and it's afraid, I am,
to think of what it may be."

"Well, strike a match,"
whispers Kelly,

"and have a look."

And O'Brien does,
and Kelly asks,

"Is it blood?
Tell me the truth, O'Brien."

"Ohh, blood it is,"
moans O'Brien.

"There's blood
all over you, Kelly."

"Praise be!" cries Kelly.

"I was afeard
it was the whiskey!"

[all laughing]

Tell me, Madigan,
what kind of country

is that Ireland place?

Why, it's a land
of the leprechauns

and the Kellys
and the O'Briens

and the Blarney Stone.
Ha ha ha!

But that's not
all there is.

Ah, it is a land for
poets to tell about,

not a fool like me.

-[playing]
-Ah,'tis the smoke of peat...

and it's the slow creak
of carts along the road,

the little
Connemara ponies.

A sweet land it is,

though often sad.

Oh, come on, now.
We'll have none of that.

None of that blasted
funeral music.

Alive, she is!
Alive is Ireland!

And wantin' only
to be free!

[playing upbeat tune]

Sorry to be late.

We started decorating
the orphanage,

and suddenly
it was 8:00.

How are you, major?

Well, I'm not sure.

We were just discussing
Mr. Madigan.

Isn't he the most
amazing man?

If he's not talking,
he's dancing,

and if it's not that,
it's something else.

He's like
a runaway train.

Well, I'm starving.

I think I'll get
something to eat.

Don't forget to make
a hood for that eagle.

-First thing in the morning.
-Mm-hmm.

Well...

yes, I must say
I'm not entirely
surprised that Audra,

and seemingly everyone
else around here,

is captivated
by his charm.

They're all charming--

All the t*rrorists in
the society of Fenians.

And responsible
for sabotage, arson,

and the brutal murders
of good British soldiers.

Oh, thank you.

Yes, Mr. Madigan
is quite efficient
at dynamite.

His bombing of
Clerkenwell Prison,

the circumstances
of his escape
from England--

Devilish good
demonstrations
of that fact.

But your Mr. Madigan

is guilty of treason
against the crown.

Has he been tried?

He will be.

Oh, well, maybe
I misunderstood you.

I thought I heard you
say he was guilty.

Oh. Well, perhaps
that was a bit unfair,

but he is a wanted man,
Mr. Barkley.

He's a rebel.

You told me
about his back.

-Surely that's proof enough.
-Proof?

I'm sure
he's been flogged.

It's customary
with these fellows,
you know.

No, I didn't know.

Oh. It's the only
kind of treatment

a rebel understands,
ma'am.

Major...

do you have any kind of
official standing
in this matter?

No, but I am
a British subject,

and this man has
committed crimes
against the crown.

Ah, but that happened
in your country,
not here.

But they are crimes.

Seems to me
that's a matter
of opinion, major,

not fact.

The law is a fact,
Mr. Barkley,

and breaking the law
is a fact.

Well, that's always
highly debatable.

See, the fact is,

Mr. Madigan is
a political fugitive.

He committed crimes
in Great Britain,

but they're not punishable
in the United States.

And so I've asked you
to accommodate me,

to, uh, shall we say,
immobilize a...

shall we say,
a suspicious character,

until my government
can arrange to have him
returned for trial.

We can't do that.

But, my dear lady--

Major, the day I find
a name on our payroll

that is spotless,

that will be someone
who hasn't lived
very long or very much.

People are hired for
what we want them to do,

and all we ask is that
they stay clean here

and give us an honest day's work
for their wages.

Now, you say this man
Madigan is wanted,

and will we be
good enough to move him

a few steps closer
to the rope.

Well, we call that
bounty hunting.

And the answer is no.

But I've described
bombings to you, treason.

Those fellows are rebels.

Well, that depends on
which side wins, doesn't it?

We call ours "patriots."

Nick, your revolution
took place 100 years ago.

It was a revolution.

Let me say, I--

I understand
your ideals.

I rather
admire them.

But, you see, the chap
we're talking about

is associated with
riot, insurrection,

property damage and
considerable bloodshed.

And if my country wishes
to try Mr. Madigan
for his crimes,

it will find a way
to take him.

Will it?

It's a very old country,
Mr. Barkley...

and very experienced.

Heh. I'm sure that
we're not going
to let this

affect our friendship
in any way?

Oh, I hope not.

And that I may
still look forward

to supervising the work
at the old mine?

-That's up to you.
-Thank you, my dear boy.

Because I expect
to find it...

most interesting.

Oh, you poor beggar.

I can't offer you
anything but my company.

Madigan.

Mac know you're
sleeping out here?

What's wrong with
the bunkhouse?

It's too crowded,
and I can't stand snoring,

so I'll just
take this barn and
a little nest of hay.

Major Wilson tells me

that you've k*lled
quite a few people

with your dynamiting.

Not that I know of.

Not that you know of?!

Now, I call that
pretty careless.

It's the way
of the world.

Well, you stay away
from that kind of work

while you're around here.

And here's fair warning--

Anyone gets k*lled
on this spread,
it better be you.

We're gonna have
an early breakfast.

We'll get the wagon
and go on into Stockton,

pick up the things
you need.

[squawks]

Come on.
Come on, come on.

Oh, you do mean
to tame him.

Civilize him.
Make him hunt coyotes

instead of lambs
and chickens.

Oh, fine.

And, as everyone knows,

He'll be much better
than any of your traps

and your r*fles.

He'll be much more useful
trained than he is now.

You take my advice
and stay away from
those talons.

Good night.

And good night
to you, sir.

[squawks]

Useful.

Not what you are.

[squawking]

Oh, stop hating the man.

Think how fortunate you are--

A home to come to,

warm and dry.

He'll feed you
only the best.

And he'll nurse you
and pet you

and proclaim to the world

how clever you are,
how obedient.

And what does he ask
in return,

this kind and generous man?

Only that you
take a master.

That is such
a small thing,
you foolish bird.

Take a master.

[chirps]

You're quite a beauty,
ain't you?

[whistling]

Breakfast will be
in ten minutes.

Well, do I have
to wait for him,

or is there room enough
on the stump

for the both of us?

[squawking]

Come on.

Well, you've won
the first battle.

Oh, hunger's
a precious weapon,

and it costs
nothing at all.

Fly, you sparrow.

What do you think
you're doing?

Easy.

Easy.

That's it.
Everything's all right.

You'd have let
that bird fly off

with that hood on him,
blinding him, and he'd
have starved to death!

Why don't you come
down out of the sky
and use your head?

[laughs]
What, and change
the habit of a lifetime?

Oh, we'll have at it yet.

It was written
before we were born.

You fellas must be
fixin' to blow up
the whole valley.

That would be
against the law.

Ah, the times that
I would've become
a churchgoer

for a little bit
of this stuff.

Oh, I'm sure you've
been able to improvise
quite effectively, sir.

Thank you, sir.

And such an expert
hardly needs me

to help him measure a fuse
and count blasting caps.

So, if you'll excuse me,
I have a bit of business.

A bit of business,
do you?

Here you are, sir.

Oh, yeah.

Let's see.

"British--"

British Embassy?

Hey, I reckon
this town's getting
important, huh?

Let's see.

"Hubert Wilson,
Major, Ret."

what's "Ret"?

It means retired.

Oh, yeah, sure.

Well,
that'll be $2.

[mutters]

There's a pencil and paper
right over there--

Did you hear the story
about the skinflint

who touched off
the firecracker
before Christmas Eve?

Uh, now, wait.

What are you doing?

And then he walked
into the house

and told his family

that Father Christmas
would not be appearing
that year.

For the truth
of the matter

was that the dear
old gentleman had
just been shot.

Shot!

I've been to funerals
where the hearse moved faster!

Hang on, boys!

Hey, easy!
This is dynamite!

Well, then don't
let it fall!

Hyah!

Oh, it's gonna be
a terrible day
for the English!

Ha ha ha ha!

[g*nsh*t]

Clear the way!

[horse neighs]

That's good, boys.
Over here.

All right, boys,
put it right there.

Wet.

Is that bad?

It produces hydrostatic
pressure of water

on the dynamite
cartridge.

MADIGAN: Dear, dear.

See, when one plants
a series of these,

it's with the idea
of producing

a progressively
intensified shockwave.

If one of the dynamite
charges fails to go off,

the series is broken.

Only parts of the interior
will collapse,

blocking off the parts
that are not collapsed.

Would I be
detecting gas in here?

[sniffs]
Oh, and considerable it is.

Better break it
off, boys.

We'll clear it
and continue tomorrow.

What's the blather
you're feeding
the poor man?

The charges
I place go off.

In wet boreholes?

Even under wet bridges.

If you gentlemen
will excuse me,

I have
a ranch to run.

You'll have to carry
your little w*r on
by yourself.

You are the man
I thought you were.

Did you have
doubts indeed?

You showed none
in the telegram.

Telegram?

There.

Do you think I sleep

with an Englishman
aware of me naked
throat?

Impudent.

I can understand how
you acquired those
scars on your back.

Scars? Those are
me medals!

Oh, you Englishman.

You don't see the humor
in it, do you?

I say "medals",

and you think,
"why not?

It's where a sl*ve
would be wearing them--
On his back."

well, Patrick Madigan
is no sl*ve.

My father and his father
before him--

They were
your Irish footboys.

They were your
Irish sl*ves, not I.

I never bent but to
pick up a cobblestone.

And when the redcoats
rode in

to burn our village,

reprisal, it was called.

One of them came at me,

on a horse so tall,

charging at a small lad
with a stone in his hand,

a traitor with
a stone in his hand.

And then the flat
of that sword

coming down
on the lad's back
like a whip--

A whip!

Until I lay in the mud

and could not scream
of the mud in my mouth.

May my brain rot
if I forget it!

If I forget the salt
tears of my mother

burning in the wounds
as she kissed them.

Oh, what you've done
to my land,

what you do to us
each black day.

And you think a million
Patrick Madigan
will not fight you

if it means
a million will die?

Will we not
blast your bridges
and b*mb your courts

and k*ll your soldiers
and spit into your hearts

until we shake the
rooftree of your world?

Till out of fear,
and nothing else,

you grant us
our freedom?

Freedom to do what?

To break any law
just as the thought
comes to you?

Destroy property?
Play with men's lives--

A wagon loaded
with dynamite--

Just because you think
that's what it means
to be free?

I came at you.

Obviously.

And the four men
in that wagon--

Do you think it right,
in the name of freedom,
to imperil their lives?

I've seen men like you
in the army--

Violent, irresponsible,
undisciplined.

You're a man
who must be ruled.

And that's
your answer, is it,

to all the blood
and the weeping

and the ache
in the heart of us?

I'm not your judge.

You'll have
your day in court.

My only duty is to
send this telegram.

You'll send nothing.

And you'll say nothing.

Stand aside!

Now, here's an Englishman
without a whip

and not one soldier
at the side of him.

And here's
Patrick Madigan,

who bombed
Clerkenwell Prison

and Kilmainham Jail,

and never felt the
face of an Englishman

against the back
of his hand.

The end is always
the same, Mr. Madigan.

You'll do better
to change your dream.

Come on. Here.

There.

See how easy that was, huh?

You know what
the trouble with you is?

You just don't know.

You're too used
to being up on that
mountaintop, aren't you?

Ah, his master's
voice.

You just get in?

It was a slow ride
in the dark, and alone.

You and the major
still at odds?

Well, not anymore.

Good.

A man came to the mine
to see him--A stranger.

They spoke a while
and then rode off together.

Where?

They neglected
to confide in me.

The stranger--
What'd he look like?

Oh, two legs,

two arms, a head.

I was not close.

[squawking]

Keep your hands
off that bird.

Well, he's yours.

[whistling]

[chirps]

Well, now, you're gettin'
the hang of it.

I wish I knew
what happened
to Wilson.

He didn't say
anything to you?

A few things about
my being uncivilized.

I believe I mentioned
tyranny to him.

Nothing about
staying in town?

His bed wasn't
slept in last night.

Maybe the man's
leading a secret life.

I wish you'd had
a better look
at that stranger.

Well, it's this trouble
with me tongue.

It's so long, it is,
it steals the strength
from me eyes.

Where's mac off to
in such a hurry?

He's going to get
the sheriff, Nick.

That's Wilson's horse.

The sheepherder found him
near the mine. Wilson, too.

He's dead, Nick.

It probably
was an accident.

He could've been
thrown from his horse.

On the other hand,
it could've been--

-Could've been the stranger.
-Maybe.

This was found
on him.

It's a copy of
the telegram

that Wilson was
sending to the
British embassy.

Madigan!

There's no proof
of that yet.

Well, it was Madigan,
and it's all my fault.

Where do you think
you're going?

Just take one guess.

And what
will you do, Nick?

Go out and hogtie him
and bring him in

just to have some
$2 lawyer cut him loose?

Or maybe you'd like
to string him up
by his thumbs

till he says exactly
what you want him--

Yes, I just
might do that!

And that would be
exactly wrong.

I say we play for time.

We simply say that
the major was k*lled
in a riding accident.

That'll give the sheriff
and us time to check around.

If there was a stranger,
believe me,

he left a trace somewhere.

Meanwhile,
what about Madigan?

He's staying with us.

He has to feel safe.

And he could be
innocent, you know.

Heh.

Just be sure
you keep a watch

on that hair trigger
of yours, Nick.

The major was a good man
and a good friend,

but we don't want
blood for blood.

All we want is
the one who did it.

[humming]

This trap ain't waitin'
for no dynamite. Let's go.

Get along, lads, I'll
be right with you.

[humming]

[continues humming]

Madigan.

[humming]

Well, now, it's all
there in your eyes.

You caught
another eagle.

Just keep your hands
right where I can
see'em.

We found
the major dead.

Now, now,
think a minute.

It was not m*rder.

And I can see that's
what you're thinkin'.

That's exactly
what I'm thinkin',

and so is the sheriff
by this time.

Now, are you gonna
come peaceable,

or do you want me to
drag you out of here?

Barkley, you've ways
of persuasion.

But Patrick Madigan is
an eagle of another sort,

and it's my home
I prefer to go to,

and not any other.

What are you doin'?

[expl*si*n]

NICK: Help!

Barkley?

[expl*si*n]

[expl*si*n]

Where's the boss?

-He's still in there.
-Dead?

Well, if not,
it's an ugly way
to be going.

Get the picks
and shovels.
Let's go!

Shovels?
Not in 100 years.

But dig, man,
for what good it'll do.

Come on with the shovels!

He-- Help!

Help!

You hear that?
He's still alive!
Keep diggin'!

All right, hold up, boys.

You'll never reach him
with a pick and shovel.

There's life in him yet.
There's no time.

I thought you went
for help.

I've got all the help
I need right here.

All right, boys,
take cover.

Give me one of them
shovels, boys.

Help!

All right.

I'd best
go in there alone.

One hearty sneeze
might bring it all
down again.

Well, I've come back
for you, landlord.

Don't try to thank me.

Why, Madigan?

Why what?

Why didn't you
keep runnin'?

Do you want me
to stop now

and debate the foolish
sentimentality of
Patrick Madigan?

Why worry any more
about me than...

Wilson?

Barkley...

I could never stand by
and let an animal be caged

or a human being
suffer in darkness.

You were trapped here
without even a window

to watch
a flight of birds,

and that's worse
than any prison

I ever occupied
and hated.

Now, this maudlin talk
is only tolerable

with a tankard
or three of beer,

so let's get
out of here and develop
a savage thirst.

Listen, Madigan, you--

Oh, I thought
I'd humbled meself,

but all right,
I'll carry you.

They're comin'!

Take that arm.

There you are.

Okay.

All right,
give me a hand.

All right, get him
to the mine office,

and one of you
fetch a doctor.

Let's go.

All right,
don't come any closer,

unless you like
the taste of dynamite!

Just stay where you are!

Suppose you tell us
what happened.

You'd never believe it.

Try us.

Patrick Madigan
is not going to hang

or be put in a cage!

[shouting]

No!

Holy Mother.

It was just
a piece of wood.

That's all it is.

Just a piece of wood.

Ben?

[squawking]

Good-bye, fella.

[squawks]

I wonder what it
feels like.

I kind of know
how it feels.

♪♪ [theme]