The Man from
Snow Burrows fell in love with the mountains and grazing grasslands of southeastern Australia, where the climate is changing rapidly, and the horse herders are hard-working and brave. They felt that only the famous poem "The Man from the Snowy River" by Patterson, the great Australian folk songwriter and founder of the Australian Jungle Legend, could express their feelings, so they came up with this poem as the end of the film to conceive the previous story. The idea of the plot, and the verse is turned into a magnificent scene of the Wrangler subduing the wild horse herd with the momentum of thunder. The era depicted in the original poem is the 1880s, exactly one hundred years after the first European adventurers set foot on this land in search of good luck. The script based on this background reproduces the life style of the Australian pioneers, and also shows the natural scenery of the Australian alpine jungle and the heroic character of the Wrangler. The film was a huge success after it was made in 1980. The translation is based on the original text of the typescript of the documentary of the film. Exterior, twilight. Ridge near Clegg's shack. fade in. Strong winds whistled and swirled across the bare ridges faintly discernible in the muted hues of the twilight. A feeling of sadness in the desert. Suddenly from the other side of the ridge came the hooves of a group of wild horses, galloping like thunder. After the thunderous hooves passed, there was a utter silence. Slowly turned into: exterior, twilight. Craig's Shack. High in the mountains, a shack on an open field surrounded by standing peaks. The yellow lights warmed the window squares, and the yellow lights gleamed cheerfully through the gaps in the plank walls. The smoke rose from the chimney into the dark blue sky. In the distance, a wild dog gave a lonely howl. There was a long, strange sound, as if a wild beast from heaven was answering the call of a wild dog. The strange voice now recognized that it was a whirring organ playing the American and Australian folk tune "The Cabin in the Little Valley."
INT, twilight. Craig's shed is wet.
A larger room with rough but functional furnishings. The faded linoleum fanned out on the shelves and some yellow drapery bear the handwriting of a long-dead woman.
Jim Clegg sat at a small organ. His strong feet were on the bellows, and his clumsy fingers, stiffened from work, scratched at the keys. Polished objects, glowing in the soft light of grease lamps, look very elegant in this modestly furnished room with home-made furniture.
Henry Clegg was standing nearby, studying the ledger.
Henry: Do the math. Zero plus zero is still zero.
Jim stopped playing, and he followed his father to the table to get the account book.
Jim: How about we make Beth pregnant? Let's raise some more mares.
Henry: (scooping up a dish of unappetizing stew) What to feed? If we want to keep this place, we're going to have to leave the Heights to find work.
Jim: Then let's go down to Hirakawa!
Henry: Yeah. Not too unfortunate. We can be hired hands together.
Jim: (pointing to the stew) Let's not be cooks!
They laughed relatively.
Henry: Take a look.
Their mood was not disturbed by the neighing of a nearby horse.
Henry: It must be your music.
Jim: Well, I'll go and see what's going on.
Henry laughed alone as Jim left.
Exterior, twilight. Craig's Shack.
Jim came out of the shed with a rectangular lamp. He shivered in the cold. A wild dog was howling, and the sound was getting closer.
INT, twilight. Craig's harness shed.
The bark shed has an open front and faces the yard. As Jim walked by with the lamp in hand, dark details emerged. At one end were harnesses and furniture, and at the other was a young mare. Jim hung the lamp beside the holstered pistol. The mare was in constant motion.
Jim: (quietly soothing) Ugh, Beth.
The horse hoofs upside down, snorting.
Jim: Hold on, girl, hold on.
INT, twilight. Craig's Shack.
Henry looked up in surprise and hurried to the door.
INT, twilight. Craig's harness shed.
The mare stomped its hooves and stood up with its fore hooves in the air. Jim managed to dodge its flashing hooves.
Jim: Hold on Beth, hold on girl. Urge, Beth.
Henry entered the shed and stepped forward to help.
Jim: It's those stray dogs who mess with me.
The mare gradually calmed down.
From outside came the neighing of a stallion as harsh as a trumpet. A shadow appeared on Henry's face.
Henry: Not a wild dog. It's a wild horse.
They went to the opening of the shed.
Cut in: A herd of wild horses (Australian wild horses) galloping through a serene twilight landscape.
The mare is out of control. Flapping in the stables, yanking on the tethers, hoofs in the air, neighing shrilly. Its eyes rolled, revealing the whites of their eyes, showing a violent look. Jim had no choice but to keep his distance from it, trying in vain to calm it down.
Cut in: Australian wild horses - unbridled, unruly, free-spirited.
Exterior, twilight. Ridge near Clegg's shack.
A black and shiny stallion ran at full speed ahead of the horses with its head held high. It ran with the herd of mares and foals, showing the demeanor of the undisputed leader of the herd.
Jim: (Voiceover) Or the group led by the old thoroughbred.
The stallion led his pack to the top of the ridge. In the wild, a well-defined silhouette of a stallion was formed against the sky. It seems to be mocking the person below.
INT, twilight. Craig's harness shed.
Jim fears the wild horse. Henry was only slightly stronger than him, and they both stared at it.
Henry: It hasn't come up to the mountain for years.
His mood suddenly changed, and he hurried across the shed to pick up the pistol.
Cut in: Stallion on top of a mountain. Proudly challenged to stand up with fore hooves in the air.
Henry returned to Jim's place and was shot.
Jim: You're not going to shoot it, are you?
Henry: (sternly) It's just going to get us in trouble - it'll take our mare away. It has done this before.
Jim had an idea and an excuse.
Jim: But Dad, there are some good horses in there right now. They are worth taming.
Henry didn't take Jim's thinking seriously.
Henry: Probably catch them and they'll break free.
Jim now showed an irrepressible enthusiasm.
Jim: Well, we can do it, let's keep a few for feed...then we won't have to go down the mountain to help.
Henry: Come on, son. That horse has been running around freely since you were born. It is the finest horse I have ever seen.
Jim: Ah. To catch it, who can compare to the shrewd mountain people.
Henry: (understood, but happy) Your temper is really up to your mother, do you think so.
Jim proposes possible ways to stand his ground.
Jim: We can build a stall on the upper platform and drive them in.
Henry frowned in thought. After a while—
Henry: No, I don't think so...
Jim gets frustrated.
Henry: Let's just circle them on Kelly Trail. They have to go there to drink water.
Jim shouted loudly.
Exterior, twilight. Ridge near Clegg's shack.
Under the rising moon, the stallion stretches its neck to the black ribbon cutting in the sky. It paused for a while, looking recalcitrant and proud, then twitched its mane nonchalantly and walked away, merging with the long night.
EXT. Dawn. mountains.
Moving credits.
The mountains stretch to the endless horizon. The valley is an unexplored wilderness. It's that brief moment before dawn.
White fog and flying clouds intertwined. After that, the bright red sun gushed out, and the vast wilderness was bathed in golden light.
exterior. Kelly Trail.
A looming path and a clearing of undergrowth surrounded by the towering alpine aspen. The axe rattled.
End of subtitles.
Nearer: Both sides of the paddock have taken shape. Two rows of small tree fences were erected. They were a hundred yards apart in the clearing, then funneled down to twenty-five feet apart. The outline of the paddock built at the narrow end of the funnel can be seen. There are standing logs all around.
Beth stood silently tied to a nearby tree with a horse, the gelding in logging harness. The female saddle was unloaded on a fallen log beside her. The pistol is in a holster.
The sound of Tintin's axe was getting louder and closer.
In the hollow where the cliff fell, Jim and Henry each stood on either side of a sizable alpine poplar, taking turns cutting down with their axes. Small wooden blocks splash. They cooperated tacitly, as if effortlessly. There was a happy expression on Henry's face. They did not say hello to each other, but they exchanged positions by the tree.
The tree began to rattle, and the two of them stood at a distance. The tree fell with a loud cracking sound.
Henry was standing on a log wielding his axe while Jim drove the gelding up the hill with its bundle of alpine poplars.
Jim: Hurry up, hurry up.
The gelding nervously pulled the heavy log and walked a few steps.
Jim: Good.
Cut in: The gelding's hooves on a slippery slope. A chain under pressure.
Jim: (to gelding) Come on, pedal up.
Henry: It looks like we're building a fort, not a paddock!
Jim: Once we've fenced this trail, they'll never get out.
Their lighthearted mood was disturbed by Beth's hiss.
Shaking to Beth: The figure of a stallion appeared behind it. The stallion stood alone, the dew on it glistening in the sun.
Beth became frantic, his nostrils opened, his eyes rolled, and he tugged at the tether, trying desperately to break free. Jim ran towards it.
Jim: Beth!
Meanwhile, another catastrophe is on the horizon. The gelding dragged its load and struggled up the slope.
Henry: Jim! Watch out for gelding!
Cut in: A close-up of the chain under extreme stress. The weak chain finally broke.
Cut in: The valve wood rolls down the slope.
Henry watched with horror, and when the log rushed towards him, he couldn't move his legs. The log knocked him to the ground.
Suddenly, the herd of wild horses rushed out from the bushes. They galloped down the trail, taking Beth, who was now free from the tether, away.
Jim watched helplessly as the horses went by. He ran to his father, who was lying motionless on the ground. He knelt down and climbed over, looking at the horses that had gone away in bewilderment and hopelessness, and then turned his attention to his father who was lying on the ground.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Kelly Depression.
Henry lay staring at the sky. His face was cut and bleeding, and he was breathing hard and painful. Jim leaned over to look at him, and Jim's expression spoke of the extent of his father's injury and his own grief.
Henry: I should have shot that stallion.
Jim was remorseful.
Jim: I'm going to get you to the Spurs.
Henry twitched suddenly. The pain faded away—he looked so frightened now that nothing else mattered.
Jim began to climb up the hill, and he found the gelding lying on his side, bleeding from his nostrils, trying in vain to jump up in convulsions, but to no avail. Hope disappeared from Jim's expression. He went back to Henry and covered Henry with his jacket.
Jim: The gelding has a broken leg. We had to let it lie down.
Henry: Where's Beth?
Jim: It ran off with the Mustang.
Henry understood that it was all over. You can't live without horses.
Henry: Spear is not happy about this kind of thing. (Henry's close-up. His eyes are staring into the distance.) Well, Spear and I, we had a lot of dreams, and we had a lot of fun together...
close-up, Jim's clutching one of Henry's A hand, that hand gradually lost its vitality and slid down. Jim stood up as the camera pulled up and back from the two figures until they were dwarfed by the towering alpine poplars. Jim's cry of agony cut through the silence that had enveloped the bushes. The camera pans to the unforgiving wilderness and freezes.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Craig Shack.
An ancient tombstone - incongruously engraved in fancy lettering. It reads:
Helen Mary Clegg
Died May 1886 Walk
with the Lord The
tombstone sits atop a well tended tomb.
Pan the camera to reveal a new grave. On the grave is a hastily painted plank as a tombstone:
Henry Clegg
died in an accident in 1888
Jim appears, hat in hand, bowing over the head of the grave. He was alone.
Behind him is the shack. Several mourners are leaving. There were six people leaning on their horses and talking in depth.
His emotions were interrupted when he realized someone was behind him. The camera shoots a horse in harness, then a buggy.
In this wagon sat a poorly dressed old man. This is Spear. He gritted his teeth tightly.
Spell: Oh, what a misfortune.
Jim: As the pastor said, we can be reunited after death.
Spear: That's superstition!
Jim: That's a good idea, Spell.
Spear: A great consolation for widows and fools, that's for the living, and it's over when you die, boy.
Jim looked up and saw six mounted riders approaching from his shack.
These people are pioneers in the mountains. They had experience with the harsh conditions of the mountains. And it's accustomed to being harsh on those who risk their lives to choose this place as a place to live. They described haggard, weather-beaten faces on Jim with a blank expression. They approached him on horseback, giving the impression of being unequivocal and uncompromising.
Whenever they needed someone to speak up, it was always Jack. Jim looked up at them in silence.
Jack: Hey, that's it, boy. You can't stay here.
Jim hadn't yet grasped the rigor of their verdict.
Jim: But...this is my home right now.
He looked back at Spurs for support. But Spoel made no sign of his expression, staring into the distance without intervening in the inevitable verdict. Jim turned to the pioneers of the mountain jungle.
Jim: This place is mine!
Jack: What about yours, it depends on who can make a name for himself here.
Jim: I can take care of myself.
Jack glanced at the new tombstone.
Jack: Maybe. Maybe one day.
Jim followed his gaze, grasping the overtones of the words, and couldn't help but be furious.
Jim: What right do you have... (to decide who can live here).
Jack: (interrupting sharply) Listen! ! You, go to the lowlands, and live here if you can, just like your father did.
Before Jim could answer, the riders turned together and disappeared into the bushes like a dense pack caravan.
Jim fought back tears and watched them, then stared at his shack.
He turned to Spur.
Jim: They're blaming me for this.
Spoel: The thalassids in this place are unkind.
Spur and Jim rode off in the chaise.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Spear's residence.
Outside the shack, the chaise slid to a halt. Spell got out of the car.
Spell: I have to start the fire.
Spur's shack is an architectural marvel. It has been crooked for years. This is a plank house. But the styles and construction methods are messy, and in some places seem to violate the laws of gravity. All conceivable equipment and utensils are either hanging outside the house or leaning against the house.
Spur hurried to the dust which was rising, and Jim slid down from the wagon. Spear also came down like this. Surprisingly, though, he had one leg missing from the knee, and instead had a wooden leg. The wooden legs didn't get in the way at all. Spear's flaws are more than compensated for. What tormented him seemed to be an advantage, and he moved with astonishing speed and agility.
While Jim was looking at the horses, the old man jumped up the porch and, in a very vigorous motion, kicked the door open with Mu Yue. disappeared inside. The door slammed shut.
INT, twilight. Spear's shack.
The interior of this humble little shack was as oddly shaped as its exterior. The walls were shielded from the wind by paper-papered newspapers and lacquered burlap. The flickering fire and the kerosene lamp illuminated the house. What's really surprising, though, is the way Sperr outfitted the shed. Like the mad machine of Robinson adrift, only he can steer it. With this machine in his shack and some other set props, he will continue to operate the complex. He was rarely quiet.
Spur was stirring the saucepan while watching Jim closely. The expression of the old man was neither censure nor sympathy, it was an opinion in itself.
Spur: It's Spur's Australian Stew. (Spoll sniffs into the pot) . . . um... (he says in a soft, solemn tone. Then he giggles.) The
old man gives Jim a bowl of stew. Jim shook his head silently. Spur let out an exaggerated sigh and put down his spoon. So I was busy making tea.
Jim: (calmly) My dad was forgetting about you taking that little organ up the mountain the other day.
Spell: (laughing) Ah, it's your mother's music box. You have to know that your father and I carried it up the mountain without even leaving a streak on it. Your mother gave me this stool.
Spear spun on the piano bench.
Spell: I figured I could play it better. (Laughs, pauses for a moment) How about that mare Beth?
Jim: It escaped with the wild horses.
Spear looked up sharply.
Jim: It's the old thoroughbred group, the big dark horse.
Spear: (his eyes are distracted) Yes, I remember the animal.
Jim: I'm going to get Beth back.
Spear's fiery determination to the child was cool.
Spell: Oh, you sure would. You'll run out into the wild to drag it back.
Jim: I will, Spur.
Spear: Of course!
Jim: I'm going to track down that wild horse and bring it back.
Spur gave the boy a sudden, quizzical look.
Spear: And it's all walking!
Jim's face changed. He understands that he's just a horseless rider now...
Spoer got up and walked to the gate.
Spell: Come with me.
Exterior, twilight. Spur's Courtyard.
The afterglow of the mouth fell on a horse. It's small, tough, and unattractive. Its eyes are a little frantic.
Spell: (Voiceover) I don't know what kind it is. However, it is a mountain horse, a good horse. It's yours.
Jim frowned.
Jim: I don't have the money to buy it from you.
Spell: It's not for sale.
Jim: Shut up, Spear.
Spell: Don't argue. A man without a horse is like a man without legs.
Jim stepped forward. Appreciate the animal carefully. The horse looked back unyieldingly. There's a moment of coldness between Jim and the nameless mountain pony, but there's a legendary change in the sense of serendipity between man and horse.
Jim held out his hand and muttered softly at the horse. It shook its head first. After that, he came closer and gently rubbed against his chest. Jim giggled while stroking the horse's neck, and a harmonious relationship appeared in an instant.
Jim: (smiles) Thank you, Spell. Now I can get the mare back.
A close-up of Spurs.
Spear: Forget the mare, you idiot! Don't waste your time doing stupid things.
A close-up of Jim, standing next to the horse, staring at the animal. He spoke to the horse quietly, patting it fondly.
EXT. A street in the city.
It had been raining before. There were several mud puddles scattered across the street, and the last of the rain dripped quietly from the eaves.
Amid the throng of citizens, there appeared a dignified Harrison—a tough guy, but well-dressed, about fifty-five years old—walking down the street. His face was cleanly shaved, and his head was covered in white hair. He followed the swarming crowd calmly and unstoppably, followed by four men, all trying to catch him and to get his attention.
Fleish Bullock: To you sir, I can drop two guineas on one end. (The old coin name [guinea], equal to 21 shillings.)
Harrison continued with his stride. Several people greeted him, and he thanked him in turn. But ignore this Fleisch Minglock.
Fleisch Bullock: (still trying to catch up) I'm telling you sir...
Harrison stopped, turned grimly at Fleish Bullock.
Harrison: I have other things to worry about today.
The entourage and Jim walked almost side by side. Jim came to this town to find a way to work.
Jim watched as Harrison shook off Fleisch Bullock, who was talking to himself.
Fleish Bullock: This bastard Yankee.
Jim: (to Fleish Bullock) Who is that?
Fleisch Bullock: It's Harrison. He got a foal, said to be worth a thousand pounds.
Jim couldn't believe it.
Jim: A foal is worth a thousand pounds?
Fleisch Bullock nodded for sure.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Railway yard.
In a carnival atmosphere, an emotional crowd gathered. The steam rolled, the whistle shrieked, and amidst cheers, the train stopped. Some of the dogs scattered, and some of the leash horses tugged at the reins.
Patterson opened the door of a carriage and stood on the steps, staring at the crowd. He was young, tall, playful, dressed in city clothes and wearing a black hard hat, looking very elegant. Harrison was greeting him.
The crowd seemed instinctively to step aside, making way for Harrison. He rushed towards Patterson and extended a hand to welcome him.
Harrison: Listen to me, I feel sorry for the damn circus...
Harrison and Patterson walked down the train towards the tail.
Patterson; ah, nothing keeps me from leaving that city. Not to mention this foal for you, he's probably the best in the colony.
Harrison: Well, it should be worth the price. ...this is the last foal from old Regret. It is hard to buy!
They came to the wagon that carried the livestock: it was a tanker wagon with a floor-to-ceiling door. The crowd shoved around. Harrison and Patterson gestured for them to step back.
In the foreground, a figure (in a hat, tarpaulin, with his back to the camera) is apparently supervising the hooks of two people on the unloading door.
With a loud bang, the door fell, splashing mud.
Then came the hollow sound of a horse walking on the floor. The time has come to meet you all.
A slender breeder appeared at the door of the cattle wagon, and he came out backwards, soothing the foal softly. As he stepped back down the slope, the foal appeared in flying glory. That's the moment people have been waiting for, and the foal's looks make it worth a lot of money.
We see the proud look on Harrison's face. Also saw the proud look on Paterson's face. Jim was taken aback as the crowd murmured praise.
The foal, as if fully agreeing with their judgment, raised its head and strode down the slope with its head held high.
A dog started barking, which startled the foal. The foal rushed forward violently, and its front hooves flew into the air, unbalanced the breeder and dragged the breeder to the ground, and then fluttered around the muddy water, causing the crowd to back away in panic.
Harrison: (Voiceover) Grab it, Jesse.
As people struggled to cope around them, there was a movement that was far more dexterous and precise than others. This is Jim in action. Quickly and dutifully, he pushed the breeder far away, causing him to fall on all fours and snatching the reins, which were still in the breeder's hands.
Jim: Let go, friend. (unresponsive, so impolitely) Damn it, let it go. (to the horse) Uh, stop!
With a jerk he made the breeder let go of the reins, and backed the foal into the clearing, all the while drizzling with it. The colt obeyed him, and, though still furious and trembling, stopped at last. He gave a few more taps, and the foal fell silent.
He turned angrily to the breeder, only to be surprised to find that winking at him and gazing at him was a never-before-seen, mud-splattered, beautiful—and unmistakably female, cut-hole.
Harrison ignored Jim, but hurried to help her.
Harrison: Are you all right, Jessica?
She blamed Jim angrily.
Jessica: If I need your help, friend, I'll ask for it (she brushes the dirt off the tarpaulin in disgust).
Jim was overwhelmed and scowled. He turned away and focused on the foal. Harrison took the reins from Jim and walked away with the colt. The crowd dispersed.
Patterson: (to Jim) Yeah, I think we all have to thank you, young Mr. . . .
Jim: My name is Craig. Jim Clegg.
He stretched out his hand. Paterson shook hands with him.
Patterson: I'm Andrea Patterson...
and to Harrison's back as he goes away.
Patterson: That's Mr. Harrison...
Taking Jim's face: There's always something puzzling about him about this Harrison. Despite the grooming of the old man's appearance, he and Spoer were utterly alike.
Then Jessica turned abruptly and left after her father.
Patterson: ...that's his charming daughter Jessica.
Jim: (looking at her) Uh... it's charming. (to Patterson) Are you a stockbroker, Mr. Patterson?
Patterson: (laughs) No, I'm actually a lawyer, Jim. How about you?
Jim: I just came to town.
Patterson: (going away) Well, thank you again, Jim. You helped us, and if we can repay you, please let us know.
Patterson walked away after Harrison and Jessica.
Jim: (realizing at once that his chance is coming) I'm looking for something to do, sir.
Patterson: Ah, it's a tough time, Jim.
Jim: I understand, but I have to find a place to maintain it. I have lived on the land all my life, and I can do almost anything. Besides, I have a good horse for watching livestock.
Paterson was moved by Jim's enthusiasm.
Patterson: You have it. (laughs) ... well, in that case, I think we'd better get you a job... I'll write you a letter.
INTERIOR, DAY. Spear's Gold Mine.
Inside the mine tunnel. A figure came towards the camera with a lamp in hand. This is Spur. Despite the uneven ground in the tunnel, his wooden legs move swiftly, and he speaks to himself, his words becoming more and more audible as he approaches the camera. He was speaking to the mine with flamboyant words.
Spear: ...I know where it's hiding under your pomegranate skirt.
As if answering, the age-old pillar groaned and rattled loudly, and a trickle of dust fell. Spohr grabbed a rock and smashed a wedge that supported the ceiling beam.
Spell: ...you damn old bitch. You've seduced a man for twenty years with a little bit of gold, and then you've seduced him with a little bit of fluff. You are simply a whore.
Saying that, Spoel arrived at the entrance and exit of the mine.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Spear's Gold Mine.
Spoel appeared in the sun and began to grab hold of a door, which, like everything else, slanted at an angle. He turns the door, shuts it, and the name "Matilda" appears painted on the door. There was another rumbling in the pit, and the sound of rocks hitting the ground.
Spell: Like a woman. It has to be the last letter.
Sperr stopped abruptly, listening suspiciously to the faint sound of a horse's nose. He hurried to the rifle and picked it up, eyes narrowed murderously. He looked up and saw a man on a large rock, looking down at him with a mocking smile.
Spell: How did you find out about this place?
Clance: (laughs) I'm stalking you, you stupid old man. Your one foot leaves a trail of footprints like a seed drill.
Spear: Asshole, Clance. Always sneaky...not even making a sound.
Clancy grinned.
Clance: I heard noises...I heard noises.
Spell: Ha, you're actually starting to hear things, which is indeed a sign of age.
Clance: Are you and your mates still looking for gold?
Spear padlocks the mine door.
Spear: Silent buddies now; Henry Clegg is dead.
Clance: Oh. I am saddened to hear this news.
Spoel: It's also just in time for some good signs to appear.
Clance: You've been saying that for almost twenty years.
Spoel: You know, the only way to gag is to have something to eat, come with me.
Clancy: You've been feeding me for twenty years, and you've been feeding me stew.
Spear murmured something incomprehensible.
EXTERIOR, DAY. The door of Harrison's house.
A very impressive house. The homestead is wide and stretches irregularly. There is a whole row of outbuildings. The courtyard is in good order. Pastures are fenced. Cows and sheep lazily munched on the grass in the rich pastures. The house impresses not because it is pompous, as a rancher might have, but because it is extremely functional. It is a great farm for labor, not a lavish decoration. And after more than 20 years of operation, it is obviously expanding gradually.
Jim rode into the foreground.
Backhand: Jim's face shows a stunned expression as he rides to the gate.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Harrison's foal yards.
Harrison sat on the railing and picked up his head after reading the letter. The camera pulls off and Jim enters the shot, standing in front of Harrison with the reins in hand.
Harrison didn't look him in the eye, staring at Jim's horse disapprovingly.
Harrison: A boy from the mountains, eh?
Jim: Yes, sir.
Harrison's expression undoubtedly revealed his opinion of the Mountain Man. Still, the kid was recommended by Paterson. Harrison jumped off the railing, fixed his eyes on a cow in the adjoining paddock, and gave a sudden order.
Harrison: Curly! Get that heifer out!
Harrison turned his attention back to Jim.
Harrison: Just let you try it. Wages, board and lodging are customary. Meet the foreman yourself.
Jim: Thank you, sir.
Jim leaves, Harrison grunts contemptuously.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Spear's hut.
Clancy was sitting on a log in the Spur hut. He stared suspiciously at the plate of food that Spur had placed in front of him.
Spoel: (mechanically) Um... incense, isn't it?
CRANSE: (increasingly, as if poisoned) You might as well put an ad in the Brettin and say it's an appetizer panacea.
That being said, when Spurs dropped the two enamel cups with a slam, he still took a big mouthful.
Spear: You think, I'll leave you a gold mine.
Clance: (Interesting, but moved) Thanks, man, but I have my own plans.
Spear: (pours tea from the jug) Clancy's plan, that's amazing (he laughs, but doesn't mean anything) . . . You still think about those sunny plains? Uh?
Clance: At least I can see the sun...and the stars. It's better than looking around in a dark hole.
Spear: (stinged by Clansey's rebuttal) A fool's errand? You are here waiting. You wait and I'll show you.
He walked towards his cabin.
interior. Spur's hut, day.
Spoel spoke to himself as he walked across the room.
Spurs: I'm looking around in the dark, aren't I? Well, just wait and see this thing!
Spur reached for a storage jar from the cupboard and walked towards the door.
exterior. Spur's hut, day.
Spell: Come on. Check out this toy.
He poured the contents of the jar onto an overturned rain barrel.
Spell: Hey, here's the colored stuff I've been picking lately.
CRANSE: (interestingly, suspiciously) Rare in twenty years. You're going to be digging through California and South Australia.
Spell: I haven't seen anything like this here since 1849.
Seeing Spoor's increasing enthusiasm, Clancy raised an eyebrow in astonishment... What an incurable gold rush.
Spell: I've installed a gear with thirty chains. I'm going down now and dig a vertical pit, and we're right on top of the fat lode...
CRANSE: Who are we talking about, Spear?
Spear: Henry Clegg's boy, do you remember little Jim?
Clancy nodded.
Spear: The little guy doesn't know about it yet, but he's got to get his father's...and he can't get away no matter what.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Harrison's kitchen yard.
Jim is working hard, chopping wood. A large pile of chopped logs lay beside him.
The foreman, Zoe Cain, passed by. He was tall and strong, middle-aged, as strong as teak. Kane speaks to Jim.
Kane: Craig, when the work here is done, go and clean the stables.
Jim: Well, sir.
The camera follows, as Kane meets Mrs Bailey, who has been watching carefully in the hallway.
Mrs. Bailey: Uh! That guy can endure hardships.
Kay thought: He seems quite willing to do it.
Mrs. Bailey: But I don't understand why the boss hired him.
Kane looked at her puzzled.
Mrs. Bailey: He's from the mountains.
Kane gave Mrs Bailey a sharp look. He accentuated every word and spoke slowly.
Kane: That was a long time ago.
He silently stopped the chatty Mrs Bailey from continuing. She doesn't speak.
Kane: Good morning, Mrs Bailey.
So they went their separate ways.
INTERIOR, DAY. Harrison's Stables.
Jim is cleaning the stables. The column was empty, but the next column contained a slightly neurotic gelding. Two young men approached. One is curly hair. His flattering buddy Moss was clearly lacking in intelligence. Curly nudged Moss lightly with his elbow. The two climbed on top of the fence to watch. Jim noticed them immediately. He nodded friendly to them.
Jim: Hello (no response). I'm Jim Clegg.
Curly ignored Jim's outstretched hand.
Curly: You're pretty good at shoveling that stuff upside down, aren't you?
Moss chuckled. Jim frowned, taking a slow taste.
Curly Hair: This is for the people in the mountains, even if it is great. The people of our plains are amazing.
This "wise" assertion made Moss rejoice. Jim was very embarrassed. When using the shovel, put the shovel head into the stable ground.
Curly: (to Morse) They live on the hills like kangaroos. You dig grubs there, are you a kangaroo?
Jim was about to get angry. But he refrained and continued to work.
Jim: Did they let you rest today?
Curly: I'm learning to be a foreman.
Curly jumped down and lit his cigarette. Throw the burning match into the hay piled on the stable floor.
Jim: Learn to be a fool.
Jim hastily shoveled a shovel full of manure over the matches, as well as on Curly's well-polished boots.
Jim put the shovel aside. He glared angrily at the taller young man. Curly was about to return the wordless challenge. They were weighing each other, and at this moment, the sound of footsteps was heard outside the painting, and the curly hair responded.
Jessica came briskly towards the stable. She was wearing a men's riding suit, but she was a true woman.
Curly swaggered up to meet Jessica as she approached. His slick tone showed a coquettish flirtation.
Curly: Good morning, Miss Jessica.
Jessica: Good morning.
Curly hair got in her way.
Curly: Can I bring you Kip and saddle it up?
Jessica: No, thank you.
She was forced to take him aside.
Curly: Oh, I'm going to work, so miss...
He reaches out unexpectedly and taps Jim on the shoulder.
Curly Hair: Cough boy, have you found the trick? Just keep doing it. I'll be back in a little while to check on your work.
Curly hair whistled and flew away. Moss jumped and ran after him. Jim was bewildered by the curly hair, and at the same time embarrassed by the girl; he looked back uneasily. Jessica laughed at Jim's humiliation and walked into the gelding pen, shouting and greeting him. She touched the horse's head and found that the bridle was broken.
Jessica: Kip...what's the matter with you?
She quickly unfastened the reins and reached for a coil of rope, which she intended to use as a rein.
Meanwhile, Curly had found himself a suitable place from which he could watch the above-mentioned scene through the window. He watched Jessica with a silly smile.
Jim: (realizing her difficulty) Uh- can I help?
Jessica: (briefly) No, no, I can do it.
Jim picked up another piece of rope. He jiggled the rope gently into double loops. Let the loop hang down and stretch your hands through the loop. In the blink of an eye, the rope was tied to the horse.
Jessica stared at him in disbelief.
Jessica: Show me how you do it.
Jim: It's not easy!
Jim forgot to be nervous and took another piece of rope to demonstrate. Curly looked at this unseen scene, his eyes widened.
Jessica: (laughs) You're playing tricks!
Jim: It's not a gimmick at all.
Jessica: Let me try it.
Jim handed her the rope and she tried it. Jim taught her step by step. Curly stared, he stopped staring at the girl now, but at the show. Jessica did as he was instructed, but somehow Yuzi was not in the right place.
Jim: Wrong! What's the matter?
Jessica: I don't know.
She looked at Jim and the two laughed together.
The atmosphere was spoiled by Harrison, who came in on a thoroughbred. He was dressed for work, and by the looks of his horse he had done a lot of work. He was taken aback when he saw it.
Harrison dismounted.
Harrison: Craig... take the horse out to cool off and tie it into the stable.
Jim: All right, sir.
Jim blushed, and led the horse away.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Harrison's Stables.
Jim walks his horse around the corner. Something resonated with him.
It was Curly, and he was clumsily fiddling with a length of rope in the shadow of the stable. He's trying to master Jim's rope skills. Curly-haired thief looked up with a guilty conscience, knowing that he had been seen. Jim grinned at him.
Jim: It's called Stupid Tom's knot.
Curly was speechless this time.
Jim: We're about to find a way. I'll be back in a little while to check on your work.
Jim laughed out loud as he walked his horse.
EXTERIOR, DAY. The yard outside Harrison's stables.
Harrison catches up with Jessica in the yard.
Harrison: Why don't you do your homework?
Jessica: A horse is foaling. It needs a hand.
Harrison; (long agony) I didn't raise my daughter to be a midwife for Ma. Employers will manage.
Jessica: I can do better.
Harrison: This line of business is not suitable for a young lady.
Jessica: A miss!
Harrison: Yes, miss! Is the word outdated?
Jessica: This is an excuse for women to be disciplined!
Harrison: Please don't follow me with your aunt's feminist bullshit! You should think about marriage, kid.
Jessica: (smiles, but more than a hint of sarcasm) Turns out the famous cattle herder also had a problem raising his daughter.
Harrison: (really angry) You're very careful with your words. I really don't know where you learned to be so unruly.
INT, NIGHT. Harrison's shed.
A long room of cracked logs, with an open stone fireplace towering at the southern end. The room was divided into open compartments with hammocks, low cabinets, and chests of drawers. Some compartments create a more domestic atmosphere with pictures, shelves, pinewood furniture and kerosene tanks. A room planned to sleep eight now sleeps five. Curly and Morse sat at the table and played cards with the dwarf. Frue, an old man, was sitting at a distance, carving trinkets from his watch-chain with a pencil sharpener. Jim came in. He unloaded his luggage and saddle. He was greeted with disinterested glances and silence.
Jim: (to everyone) Uh- which bed is mine?
Curly Hair: No one will knock you off, boy cough.
The crowd laughed.
Flue: (pointing off screen) That one is empty, boy. Sleep on that one if you feel comfortable with it. Your saddle can be kept in the harness room.
Curly: Yes, you can rest there if you like.
FRUIT: (quietly) Stop talking childishly, Curly.
Curly Hair: You old man, just die.
Everyone saw Fury across the room with a pencil sharpener. He stopped behind Curly and cut a piece of wood that was carving directly behind Curly's head.
Fury: (calmly) Watch out for your tongue, boy...don't let me cut it.
Curly glared at Fury, but subsided. ^
Curly: Play your cards, Morse.
The game continues. Jim didn't know what to do, so he put the saddle on the bed and started unpacking his gear.
Curly Hair: In a day or two, everyone will gather to go up the mountain. According to Kane, early winter is coming.
Shorty: Ah, I thought Harrison could handle the seasons.
Frue: I think the boss will assemble the pals after Clarence gets here.
Curly: Well, who's Clance? Is this guy some sort of good rider or something?
Shorty: He's not a rider. He is a Wrangler.
Moss: (excitedly) Hi, Curly. Look at this!
He showed Curly Hair. A set of three cards of the same rank and two of the same rank. Curly and Shorty crossed their fingers in disgust.
Curly: So why is Clancy so special?
Shorty: I told you, he's a Wrangler.
Flue; it's a Wrangler! Clancy is more than just a Wrangler. Clance is a...a magician. He is a genius.
Jim cleared his throat and interjected.
Jim: I've seen him.
All eyes turned to Jim, wary, slightly hostile. He blushed with embarrassment.
Jim: Still when I was a kid. He and my dad are buddies.
Curly: It's man! Ha, what a nonsense! yes man!
Curly hair erupted into a high-pitched, monstrous laugh. Moss also giggled like a chicken when he acted by his color, and the rest laughed in disbelief. Only Fury remained silent. Jim blushed, picked up the saddle and walked to the harness room. No matter what life was like in this humble house, he was out of place.
EXTERIOR, DAY. next to the hill.
Filming Clanser riding a pack horse across the hills. He was on his first trip to Harrison's house.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Harrison's yard.
What major event are the employees participating in? All the people in the ranch were there, and everyone was doing something very necessary with great concentration. From time to time, people took a peek at the winding road with trees on both sides. There is an atmosphere of anticipation in excitement.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Hallway of Harrison's house.
Harrison and Kane stood in the shade of the corridor. Harrison frowned across the yard.
Harrison: What happened? What kind of federation is being held?
Kane: They heard that Clancy was coming.
Harrison: So they all came out and looked silly.
Kane: They have a rare chance to meet a legend.
EXTERIOR, DAY. the way.
The legend made his way to the welcoming crowd. Is a calm and cautious legendary figure. He understands the importance of a first appearance. The neatness of his clothes is impressive, and after a selection of colors, it is too flashy to go too far. The brim is curled just right, and the hat is worn with a moderate slant. The way of riding is laid-back and refined. His horses seem to be dancing, each step a gesture, a carefully orchestrated, drawing-like moment. It was a tall horse with a small white spot on its face, like a lone star shining in the night, in its unnoticed hiding place. Even his heavily loaded chestnut workhorse was impressive. This is the Clansay before the Volkswagen. The eyes are cold and serious, exuding the taste of superiority. It's quite a different person from the lovely mischievous wanderer we used to meet, the old buddy Sperr who embarrassed him.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Harrison's yard.
Clanser rode into the compound, making the biggest climax among the assembled ranchers. He didn't have a cage, but gave a brief nod to everyone. His eyes swept to and fro in Xiangzi's shadow, paying attention to someone he knew was nothing more than a child. He found him, it was Jim. The boy stood shyly behind the others, with an expression of blunt curiosity on his face. Clancy rode straight towards him. Step forward, grab Jim's hand, and shake his hand. Bystanders probably won't know that Jim was a toddler the last time they met.
[End of last issue: Clanser rode into Harrison's yard, his eyes found Jim among the assembled ranchers, and he rode toward Jim, clutching Jim's hand tightly. The last time they met, Jim was a toddler. ]
Clance: Are you Jim Clegg? (quietly) Long time no see.
Jim: (puzzled) Yes, sir. Shall I take care of your horse?
CRANSE: (gestures to the packhorse) Look after it, it's about to drink.
Jim was flattered and wondered why he had been chosen. He pulled the horse away. Clance waited, then raised his voice so that everyone could hear.
Clance: Oh, Jim.
Jim stopped and turned around.
Clance: I was very saddened to hear about your father's condition. He is a good partner.
Jim: (moved) Thank you.
Curly glared at Jim with unabashed jealousy. Fury smiled. Kane and the others looked at him with new respect. Jim is full of pride. Because his father is not such an unimportant character after all. Clancy smiled calmly. Here's another good thing Spurs has done for Jim.
Clancy walked down the hallway gracefully.
INT, NIGHT. Harrison's dining room.
The dining room is neither flamboyant nor ostentatious. Rather, it reflects one of Harrison's tenets—hard work pays off. Furnishings are solid, comfortable and of good quality, built once and for all.
Harrison, Paterson, Clance, Jessica, and Rosemary Hume (Harrison's widowed aunt) sit around the oval dining table. The rapport chat during filming is coming to an end.
Harrison: …Go west young people, people say. So I went west... 10,000 miles farther than they meant. (He laughs at his wit) So I found gold.
Patterson looked at him mockingly.
Harrison: (He waves a hand to indicate the industry outside the house) . . . beef cattle. We raise cattle and sell meat to miners more than they dig gold. isn't it, Clance?
Clancy: You sell cattle, I'm just driving them. (turns to everyone) He's known as a California horse trader around the mines.
Harrison pursed his lips and slowly moved the back of his chair, towards the pantry.
CRANSE: (to Rosemary) Best sweets I've ever had, Mrs. Hume.
Rosemary: It's not worthless (the original text here is trifle, which can be described as a sweet treat made from custard, fruit, sprinkles, etc., or as something of no value. Same as the previous sentence "sweet food" is the same word.) of Clance, this is Charlotte Luce.
Harrison: (returns with a bottle of red wine) It's Charlotte Luce! My dear sister-in-law sometimes bestows her learned gadgets on us simple country bumpkins.
Rosemary snapped back at once, and we got the feeling they were old rivals. They have faced each other many times, often with indistinguishable distinctions. Paterson was a bystander, familiar with the finer details of the battle of tongues, so he understood its subtleties.
Rosemary: I also wanted to educate Harrison or Jessica with the kangaroos, so we were supposed to have dinner in the bark shed tonight.
Harrison: Rosemary would never have valued the sacrifices made to build such a piece of real estate.
The men had already had a round of drinks, and the bottles were placed in front of Paterson.
Rosemary: Mr. Patterson, could you please pass the bottle over?
Patterson: Yo, sorry; I...don't know...
he stopped and passed the bottle. Rosemary poured herself a glass.
Rosemary: (politely) Women can also enjoy the privileges they are accustomed to think of as men.
Harrison understood what was coming, and turned his eyes to the sky. Jessica picked up the bottle.
Harrison: (to Rosemary) Don't make a speech...
Jessica: (interrupting) Aunt Rosemary is right. Yes, women should have the right to do what they can.
Harrison: You should have heard, your ideas are like germs! My own daughter is infected by your stupid words.
Rosemary: You know very well that your own daughter is very insightful. She breeds horses well and is good at herding. Are you going to develop these talents, or are you going to round her up into lifeless chores?
Harrison: (to Jessica) You should go to a women's college, not in the stables.
Patterson: No matter how complicated this argument may be, Mrs. Hume, it does prove from you that the profession of law shuts out a great lawyer.
Harrison: Female lawyer? Ha, someday.
Clancy: (filling himself a glass again) Such a sweet wine should have given birth to... I'm sorry, ma'am... "Mothered" means born of a mother. Here, because of Mrs. Hume's feminist thought, I use mothered instead. After translating into Chinese, the humor cannot be expressed.) Such a debate.
Everyone laughed. Even Harrison barely smiled. He turned to Rosemary.
Harrison: Rosemary, if you're done drinking...
Rosemary: Not really.
Clancy: It's no match for the dark liqueur we used to drink on the road.
Harrison: Ah yes, toast those long gone days on the road.
Clance: Well, those days aren't over for me, so let's toast to the days ahead.
Harrison: Well, there's not much to come, Clance.
Clancy: Even if I exchange all the tea leaves in China, I will not give up this sunny plain. How beautiful is this view!
Jessica: Clance, Doromantic.
Clancy's eyes sparkled for adopting Spear's epigram.
Harrison: Romantic! Your mind has become unmanly. We already have railroads and roads. Right now we can ship frozen beef to markets in the UK and Europe. That's where the future is.
Clance: Well, you used to be way ahead of those old-fashioned ranchers. So now they have few left.
Harrison: (interrupting) They've taken the nation's treasures.
Clance: (indignant) They've taken all the country's property?
Harrison: I know that one day we're going to be the great food-producing region of the world.
Clance: It's completely in your hands!
Harrison: Yes. I've... but the mountains haven't been there yet. If I had the capital, I'd fence down there and cut down big logs. I would make it the best ranch in the country.
Clance: Thankfully, the lack of capital.
Harrison: Capital, ha! Capital is not a problem...
it's time for the peacemaker.
Patterson: Ladies and gentlemen...
he respects his host, Harrison, who gives him a blank look for interrupting him.
Patterson: I suggest a drink for our two romantics.
Harrison: Huh?
Patterson: (to Clance) To those who think about the status quo; (to Harrison) Toast to those who think about possibility. God allows these two kinds of people to coexist.
The women raised their glasses quickly. Clancy and Harrison exchanged glances, then smiled and raised their glasses. Everyone drinks.
In the moment of silence after clinking glasses, the door opened, and Jim staggered in with a large log of firewood in his hand. He stood there surveying what seemed to him to be a wealthy environment. Then he was embarrassed by the silence.
Jim: Oh... uh... Mrs. Bailey ordered some more firewood.
Clance: Good evening, Jim.
Patterson: Hello, Jim.
Jessica: (smiles) Good evening, Jim!
Harrison saw all this and felt more and more strange that his guests would know the humblest of his hirelings.
Harrison: (sarcastically) Yes. We all seem to have introduced it.
Rosemary: Can't say it's us, Harrison. (to Jim) I'm Mrs Hume.
Harrison glared at her.
Jim: Hello, ma'am.
He is ready to leave.
CRANSE: Jim, Mr. Harrison just talked about reclaiming the Snowy Mountains. You know that place better than any of us. what do you think?
There was silence again, and Jim fell uneasily.
Jim: Ah... um, sir. I think it is better to block the tide than to reclaim the mountains.
Jim knew intuitively that talking on this occasion wouldn't work, even though Jessica was clearly impressed.
Jim: I'm sorry, I'm leaving.
Jim walks out.
Patterson: This kid has character.
Harrison: Yeah, there's a mountain bastard.
This vicious remark aroused the resentment of the guests.
CRANSE: (unconcealed, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes) Does that include your brother too?
Harrison: (interrupting quickly) I don't have a brother. (stands up quickly) Okay, we got up early this morning, good night everyone.
Harrison walks out. He slammed the door, and he could hear his heavy footsteps receding down the aisle. Clearly, Clancy touched his sore spot. Everyone has their own reaction. Clancy played with the cup with a gloomy smile. Rosemary had a foreboding expression on her face. Jessica was puzzled. Paterson was curious.
INT, NIGHT. Harrison's shed.
There was a high level of excitement among the ranchers preparing for the big assembly. Someone was cleaning the harness, someone was fixing the saddle. The dwarf was reading the bible aloud. Jim is oiling his fancy saddle. The leash and lasso are neatly laid out on the bed. Curly came in. He felt that he had lost face in front of this newcomer, so he was very rude. Take him as a mocking rake, of course.
Curly: The last time I saw a saddle like this was in a circus, with a monkey riding on it.
Jim grinned at him. He didn't take such bad words to heart when he was in a good mood. He grinned mischievously.
Jim: Where's your rope, Curly? Did you give up?
Curly hair gritted his teeth. He was silent and strode to his bunk.
Everyone looked up to see Kane come in. The foreman was reticent and authoritative, and he had to be respected.
Kane: I want everyone to get the saddles ready before the sun goes out. We're going to eat at the Bailey House.
Frue: (chuckles his lips and laughs) Only at this time does the owner eat his own beef. But he didn't know yet.
Everyone laughed. This observation reflects the cattleherder's moral code—Harrison's meanness and Parley's brazenness.
Jim, eager to be part of the excitement, interjects.
Jim: What special things do we have to bring?
Kane: There are some changes to the plan. You're not going with the guys this time, Jim.
Jim seemed to be hit. Curly hair laughed gleefully.
Curly: They're probably looking at your mountain mule.
Jim: It's a horse in the mountains, and besides, he knows the place better than I do.
Kane wasn't the kind of person to put his authority in doubt.
Kane: (sternly) I'm not always the talker. But as long as I have something to say, it's the same.
Jim stared at him disappointedly.
Kane: (exaggeratedly rudely) Whoever kicks the tailbone tomorrow morning when he's not ready. You can't run either, shorty.
Shorty: (reading and raising his head) Amen!
Kane leaves the workers' shack.
Exterior, night. Outside Thrison's workers' shack.
Kane found Jim waiting outside the door.
Jim: Mr. Kane, what are you doing? What am I...?
Kane hesitated, and instead of looking at Jim, he looked at the house, then turned to Jim again.
Jim: I think I get it.
Kane: You'll have a chance, Jim.
He patted Jim on the shoulder to reassure him, and parted.
EXTERIOR, MORNING. Harrison's yard.
In the early morning, the rays of the sun smeared the horizon. Cattle herders gathered in the yard, waiting on their horses. They are all shapeless black silhouettes. Occasionally, it was lined with ghostly white air that spewed out of breath. Jim watched admiringly from the shade. Curly recognized Jim as he mounted his horse.
Curly: Don't forget to feed the hens, you bandicoot!
He rode away with a contemptuous laugh. Jim had to fight back his anger.
Lighting in the house makes some windows bright yellow squares, and the glow from the tinted glass at the entrance is a beautiful treat. The door opened, and Harrison and Jessica appeared, and they walked towards the door together.
Jessica: Maybe next time?
Harrison: No, definitely not. Goodbye, daughter.
Jim stood near the foreground, watching Harrison ride away to join the herders who were waiting for him at the gate. Jim's frustration was noticed by Jessica. They exchanged sympathetic glances with each other.
Jessica went back to the house, while Jim watched the group ride down the road with a look of unsatisfied longing. At this moment, the sunlight illuminated one side of his face.
INTERIOR, DAY. Harrison's living room.
This is a room richly decorated by the hands and feet of women. Jessica is practicing the piano. Rosemary was instructing, and there was no expression of excitement on her face. The girl only wanted to "get it done" and did not express the aesthetic relationship between the notes.
Rosemary: Honestly, Jessica, you feel like a road worker when you play this piece. Well, let's start over again. Come back to "con amore" (Italian, musical term: kindly.) this time.
Jessica let out a long sigh, slumped and bowed her head, and turned the score back.
Rosemary: Don't make me look like I'm suffering.
Jessica was about to start playing when there was a hesitant knock on the door.
Rosemary: Come in!
The door opened, and Jim moved in slowly along the side aisle, concentrating desperately on a full lunch tray.
Rosemary: Ah, hello, Jim.
Jim: Ma'am, uh, Mrs. Bailey said let me bring it to save her having to run errands.
Rosemary: You've come just in time to save Jessica... (with a slightly reproachful look at Jessica) At a
glance, it's not Jim's job to bring the dishes. Jessica came quickly to take the plate from him, both happy to be distracted and concerned.
Jessica: Hello... ah!
Rosemary: Would you like to have tea with us?
Jim looked at his tattered muslin trousers, and at the clean chintz and velvet furniture, and felt so out of place.
Jim: No! No... no, Mrs Hume.
Rosemary: Nonsense. In this hothouse full of feminine emotions, male guests will be comforted. Jessica, pour tea. I'll go get another cup.
She left and walked to the kitchen.
Jim: You don't care, do you?
Jessica: No. Why should I care?
Jessica served Jim a saucer of a selection of flowered tea cups. The cup, held in these rusty hands, trembled in the silence that enveloped them. Jim first managed to break the silence.
Jim: Well, today we both feel sorry for ourselves.
Jessica: It's not just whether we want to go or not.
Jim: Yeah... (sounds silently) I think they're trying to train me to be a housekeeper.
Jessica: (smiles) Ah, they want to train me to be a lady.
Jim: (still in a pensive mood) They won't fail.
Jessica: (suddenly resembling her father) Thank you so much!
Jim: (I realize what I just said was inappropriate) Damn it. That was not my intention.
Jessica: Nor can they train you to be a gentleman.
There was another silence after she said that.
Jessica: Do you play the piano?
Jim: (shrugs) Yes, a little. Before my mother died, she was beginning to teach me.
Jessica: Do you miss her?
Jim: Yes, yes, of course I miss her.
Jessica: I never knew what my mother was like.
Jim frowned slightly.
Jim: (can't imagine a man not knowing his own mother) Sorry...I dare say she must be pretty-like you.
Jessica was moved by his words.
Jessica: Thank you, kind sir.
Jim blushed. Then he remembered where he was and who he was, and drank the rest of the tea and stood abruptly.
Jim: Thanks for the tea...Jessica. (He calls her name for the first time) I still have something to do before dinner.
Jim leaves in a hurry, and Jessica goes to the piano, arranges the score, and starts playing "con amore." Rosemary came in through the door—looking back, smiling at Jim. When she saw Jessica's discoloration, she quickly restrained her smile.
INT, twilight. Harrison's stable - the pony's stable.
As the sun goes down, it casts long shadows. Old Regret's specialty foal stood peacefully in the pen munching on hay. Jim coaxes the foal and strokes it with both hands as he grazes. He looked up to see Jessica watching him. The foal also looked up.
Jessica: It's awesome.
Jim nodded, one hand still on the pony's neck. Their mutual admiration for the beast was like a congenial agreement...
Jim: He couldn't pick a single bone in his body.
Jessica: Curly hair will pick it out. The horse-training here is all his.
Jim; (strongly reacts) It's just the curls!
Even Colt seemed to be taken aback by the prospect. It humps Jim with its nose.
Jessica: Be strict with foals.
Jim: But not brutal. Work with the colt, not against it.
Jessica and he were staring at the foal.
Jessica: Not at all!
Jim: That's what my father taught me.
Jessica: This is not a mountain mustang.
Jim: It's all auspicious.
Jessica: Are you saying you can tame this horse?
Jim: Yes.
Jessica: Are you sure?
Jim: Can you do it with your father?
Jessica: He's going out for over a week. If everything was done before he came back, what could he say?
EXTERIOR, Dawn/Day/Dusk. Harrison's circular training ground.
- A montage of shots: Jim's days when he was taming a foal. Sunrise and sunset. Sunny and foggy days, the whole picture is emphasized with lyrical, semi-classical piano tunes.
Jessica was always seen either hitting Jim or watching from the fence. Jim had a gentle, confident way with his horses, and the foal responded. Jessica was not ignorant of this situation, so she had a good impression of Jim. In a series of transformations into and out of the process of horse training, we glimpse a special change among them.
In the early morning light, the frightened colt circled the strange paddock.
A shot of Jim approaching the foal, standing quietly. His hand ran down its neck, gaining its trust.
Shot of the foal tethered to the great circle paddock - Jim follows him on the reins, training his leaping gait.
Shot of Jessica and Jim sitting on the fence in the rain, wearing tarpaulin raincoats and hats, watching over the foal. Jessica jumped to the ground, dragging Jim playfully by one of his legs, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.
Shot of a foal on a tether. Jim wiped the foal with a towel to get it used to being managed.
A shot of putting a bit on a foal. It raised its head suddenly, as it had never suffered such a sin before, but at last quieted again thanks to Jim's compulsion.
The foal has a saddle pad, so the saddle is placed lightly on the horse's back.
Jim carefully placed one foot in the stirrups, then carefully allowed the foal to adjust to his weight.
The foal raised its front hooves and stood on its hind legs, and Jim sat in the saddle.
Mountain top at sunset. Silhouette of Jim, Jessica and foal together.
INT, NIGHT. The stables of the Harrison foal.
Immediately after the above scene. The music continues.
Jim walked towards the gate, then looked towards the house.
Exterior, night. Harrison's house.
Immediately following the scene above, the music continues. The camera moves towards a window that glows enticingly.
INT, NIGHT. Harrison's living room.
Immediately following the scene above, the music continues.
Jessica plays the piano with confidence and affection. She plays the main melody we have already heard in the assembling picture. Her emotional playing and demeanor leave us in no doubt that this is Jim's effect, and more than just the foal.
Exterior, night. Outside Harrison's stables.
Jim stood by the door looking tenderly at the shining window.
At the end of the song, he was still watching.
INT, NIGHT. Harrison's living room.
Jessica sat at the piano. There was a dreamlike look in her eyes.
Exterior, night. ridge.
The black figure of the wild stallion moved towards the top of the ridge.
It stood ominously silhouetted in the cold moonlight. Its mane fluttered in the wind.
Its appearance gives people a kind of ominous omen.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Harrison's yard and paddock.
It is a sunny dawn. Jim was holding on to a long rein while taming the foal, and Jessica came across the house and stood by the fence watching.
Vientiane is peaceful and poetic.
Despite the tameness, the foal responded well. Jim made it turn to the right and put on a trot.
EXTERIOR, DAY. Harrison's yard and paddock.
The peaceful scene suddenly changed drastically.
The foal rose to his feet in the air and charged for the long reins.
Jim, even though he was talking to the colt and trying to calm it down, was instinctively looking around for the reason for the commotion.
A herd of wild horses, led by large stallions, galloped from gaps in the forest and ran side by side to the outermost fence boundary. For the first time, we saw the size of this herd of wild horses. They
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