 Now, as howling winds echo across the snow-covered reaches of the wild northwest, the Quaker Oaks Company makers up Quaker Pop Wheat, and Quaker Pop Rice, the delicious cereal shot from guns, in cooperation with the Mutual Broadcasting System, present by special recording Sergeant Preston of the Yukon. It's Yukon King, Swiss with his strongest lead dog of the northwest, breaking his trail for Sergeant Preston of the northwest out at police, in his redress of pursuit of lawbreakers. And King, on your hands. Gold, gold, covered in the Yukon, a stampede to the Klondike in the wild race for riches. Back to the days of the Gold Rush, and the adventures of Sergeant Preston and his wonder dog, Yukon King, as they meet the challenge of the Yukon. Quote from an employee, I'd give my IT for a worker who's steady, reliable, efficient and trained to do the job. End quote. Well, there is a new source of workers just like that. Men and women ready, willing and able to do just the kind of job you'd want them to do. They are the physically handicapped who have overcome their disabilities through vocational rehabilitation. So, Mr. Employer, you're bound to find someone who fits that job opening of yours to a tee. How do you obtain a trained disabled worker? Just call your local vocational rehabilitation office. Find out for yourself what survey after survey has proved. Handicapped workers are specially prepared, steady, reliable, efficient. They can match the work performance of the able-bodied any day and often surpass it. You'll find it's good business to hire the handicapped. This message is brought to you as a public service. When Davey Troy opened his eyes, he found himself lying in a bare, dilapidated-looking cabin. His right ankle throbbed painfully, and he was aware of a sharp pain in his forehead. A strange man was bending over him. For a moment, Davey laid quietly, trying to remember. Then he spoke. What happened to me? I'm not quite sure, son, but apparently you had a nasty flaw. I found you lying on the floor of the cabin. My name's Davey Troy. I'm glad to know you, Davey. Uh, look, do you feel well enough to stand up? Would you like to lie still for a bit? No, I'm all right, I think. My right ankle's going to hurt me. You may have sprained it a bit. Yeah, lean on me and try to take a few steps, huh? All right. There we are. What's the matter? It hurts so much. You better lie down again. I'll take a look at it. Come on. Davey acquitted his teeth and tried not to cry out with pain as a stranger pulled off his right muscle. A moment later, after removing Davey's soft, the stranger gave a startled gowl. Holy mackerel, your ankle is all swollen up. Is my ankle broken? I'm not sure. Where do you live? In Nugget Bend. My mother has a cabin right on the edge of town. If your ankle is broken, you ought to be looked after by a doctor as soon as possible. There's a doctor in Nugget Bend. You could help me get back home. Oh, I could carry you home easily enough. That's not the problem. You see, Davey, I don't want to be seen by anyone. Why not? The fact is, I'm wanted by the police. The police? Hey, I know who you are. You're that new timekeeper at the Crenshaw Mine. Yes, you get it. I'm Lee Quinton. You killed Mr. Crenshaw. No, no, no. I didn't kill him. I swear I didn't. Not that it makes much difference whether you believe me. But if you didn't kill him, why are the police after you? Because the evidence is all against me. It happens, I discovered Mr. Crenshaw in the mine office right after he'd been shot. Then his nephew walked in and found me bending over the body. Do you have any idea who really killed him? No, but I think I have a clue. What sort of clue? A piece of paper with a message written on it. I suppose it wouldn't do any good. Police would probably think I made the whole thing up just as an alibi. Golly, I wish there was some way I could help you. Thanks, Davey. Yeah, but don't worry your head about my troubles. That ankle of yours is enough to worry about. If you don't help me get home, I don't think my mother'd give you way to the police. I'll tell you what, Davey. It'll be dark in another hour or so. I'll wait till then and then carry it home. If I'm lucky, maybe I can make it without being seen. Meanwhile, in the nearby town of Nugget Bend, two men were seated at a corner table at the Royal Flush Cafe. One of them was Howard Crenshaw, the nephew of the murdered mine owner. The other was a gambler called Cliff Rodel. Howard Crenshaw was speaking in a low, tense voice. There's no doubt about it, Cliff. That paper that Clinton got from my uncle just before he died must be the message you sent. You can't be sure then. I'm practically certain, I tell you, to the folded sheet of blue paper just like your note. Are you sure you haven't just misplaced it? Positive. I've looked all over for it. I can't find it anyway. The whole thing still doesn't make sense to me. It makes plenty of sense. You say you saw the old man pull this paper out of his pocket and handed it to Clinton? That's right. I'll go over it again and tell you how the whole thing happened. I shot my uncle just like I told you I was going to. And I opened up the safe and dropped the gun down beside the body. Went outside to wait for Clinton to show up. I was planning to burst in on him and accuse him of the crime. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know all about it. Well, I kept out of sight until Clinton arrived and went in the mine office. Then I sneaked up to the window and looked in. And it turned out the old man wasn't dead after all. That's right. Boy, it looked he was trying to talk, but he was too weak. So he did the next best thing by putting out that note. That's what I don't say to you. Why should he want to give Clinton the note? Use your head. There's only one explanation. He's trying to give the police a clue. Must have thought they could figure out from the note who shot him. And I'm thinking he was right. Sure made a mess of this job, Crenshaw. But it's fun that we've got to find Clinton and destroy that note before the police get the hands on it. Don't say we. You're the one who's in trouble, not me. Wait a minute. You're in on this too. I never would have killed my uncle if you hadn't been pressing me for money. Oh, I shouldn't have pressed it for money. I'm holding your IOUs for 5,000 bucks. The point is you knew beforehand I was going to kill my uncle so I could inherit the mine and pay you back. That makes you an accessory before the fact. And when it comes right down to it, the motties might easily think you're shotting yourself. What are you talking about? Remember, my name doesn't appear on that thing. It just says you better pay me that five grand by the end of this week or it'll be too bad for you. And it's signed slick. The police might figure you were blackmailing my uncle. Why, you don't hear something else to think about. The law says that a murderer can't compromise crime. That means if I'm convicted, I won't inherit my uncle's mine after all. So if you ever expect to get paid that five grand IOU, you better help me everywhere you can. That evening, Sergeant Preston arrived in Nugget Bend and stopped at the cabin of Constable Joe Burke. And the two motties had finished their meal and stopped talking around the stove. Constable Burke remarked, I wish you were staying on here for a few days, Sergeant. Oh, how so? Well, a man was killed here a night before last. An old mine owner named Crenshaw. Burke Crenshaw? That's right. He was shot to death. I know who did it, but the song got away and I still haven't been able to run him down. Tell me about it. Well, it happened about eight o'clock in the evening. The minehands were all in town at being Saturday night. But Burke's nephew happened to go back to the mine to see about something. Maybe you've met him. Yes, I have. His name's Howard Crenshaw, isn't it? That's right. Anyway, he heard a shot in the mine office and when he rushed to investigate, he found a timekeeper, a young fellow named Lee Quenton, bending over his uncle with a gun in his hand. Then what happened? Quenton turned the gun on Howard, locked him in the storeroom and made his getaway. Any idea what his motive was? Well, the safe door was open, so apparently Quenton was robbing the safe and Mr. Crenshaw caught him in the act. At least that's not clear. Quenton have a team? Not that I know of. Of course, he might have gotten hold of one earlier that evening and had the flat all loaded with supplies ready to make his getaway. Excuse me, my Sergeant. Right. Dr. Cameron. Well, good evening, Constable. Come on in. Hello, Doctor. Well, bless my soul if it is inside in Preston and King. When did you two get into town? About an hour ago. Take off your coat and sit down, Doctor. Well, I'll sit down, but I won't bother with my coat. Can't stay more than a few minutes. That you want to talk to me about something? Yes, I do. I don't know whether or not I should be telling you this, Constable, but I suppose it's my duty. I think the widow Troy and her little son Davy may know something about that murdery you're talking and looking for. You mean Lee Quenton? That's right. You see, Mrs. Troy called me over to her cabin this evening to have a look at Davy. Yes. He'd been playing out in the hills and had a fall. She thought his ankle might be broken. Was it? No, Sergeant, just a bad spring, but he couldn't walk on it. Oh, they got back home. That's just it. She says a trapper found him and carried him home. There was a bad cut on his forehead, and whoever found him had bandaged it up with a handkerchief. Well, when I took it off to look at the cut, I noticed it had initials LQ on it. LQ, that's right. And if you ask me, it's a mighty big coincidence if those initials stand for anything but Lee Quenton. We'll continue our adventure in just a moment. Colleen, look at that picture wind up. I hope he doesn't spike our man out. It's a home run. We win. Say, kids, wouldn't you like to go to a real major or minor league game with your dad or mom? Well, come out to the ballpark now as guest of a major or minor league team. Admission is absolutely free. If you're 12 years or younger and bring a paying adult and your free baseball ticket is as close as your grocery store, it's right inside packages of Quaker Pop Wheat, Quaker Pop Rice, Muffet Shredded Wheat and two tickets inside Quaker Paco 10. The tickets tell the name of the teams and dates of the game. So rush over to your store. Get a free baseball ticket package of Quaker Pop Wheat or Rice, Muffet Shredded Wheat or Quaker Paco 10. Now, if these special packages are not yet in your store, just do this. Send a box top from the regular packages of these Quaker series to baseball box 5205 Chicago 77 Illinois. Go now, breathe. Now to continue. Flora Troy, Davies widowed mother was a young and pretty woman who earned a living for herself and her son by baking bread and pies, which she sold to the local cafes as well as to individual miners in the neighborhood. As she opened the door in response to Constable Brooks' knock and saw the two mouties standing outside, she gave a slight nervous gas. Constable Brooks, I saw them first. Good evening, Mrs. Troy. Hello, Flora. May we come in, Mr. Seymour? Well, of course. Nice. Davie was lying cropped up on a cot in one corner of the room. Golly, you're Sergeant President King. Hello there, Davie. I didn't know you two were back in town. We just arrived this evening. I wish you were stationed here all the time so I could play with King. He's a wonderful dog. I understand you had a bad fall today, Davie. Yes, sir. I sprained my ankle and cut my forehead. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What did happen? Well, I was clearly happened out in the hills west of town, Sergeant. Won't you and the Constable sit down? Oh, thanks. Thank you. Mrs. Troy, we came to ask you some questions about the man who brought Davie home today. What do you want to know about him? Well, for one thing, what was his name? Well, to tell you the truth, I didn't think to ask his name. I was too worked up at the time. He's a trapper. That's really all I know about him. According to Dr. Cameron, the handkerchief he wrapped around Davie's forehead carried the initial LQ. Yes, I believe it did. May we see the handkerchief? Of course. I just washed it and hung it over the stove to dry. Well, in that case, don't bother. I thought perhaps it might give King the man's scent, but now the scent will be gone. You mean you want a King to trail the man? That's right. But why? We're wondering if he might not have been the timekeeper at the Crenshaw Mine. The man who shot over Mr. Crenshaw. You see, his name was Lee Quinton. Oh, no, no, it definitely wasn't him. I saw Mr. Quinton several times when I delivered baked goods over to the mine. You're sure of that? Positive. What did his trapper look like? Well, he was short and he was middle aged and, well, he had sort of grayish whiskers. Oh, what does Quinton look like, though? He's tall, dark, and clean-shaven when he's not more than 31 or 32 years old. In that case, we'd seem to be barking up the wrong tree. Oh, wait a minute, Captain. Frankly, I'm not sure. You heard the description, Flora Gay, is still the man, certainly can't have been Quinton. He may as well be on our way. All right, Captain. It's a pleasure. Good night, Flora. Good night, baby. I hope your ankle's better soon. Thanks, Sergeant. Good night, kid. Good night, Flora. Goodbye, Captain. Bye. Goodbye, Captain. Hang it off. Fuck it. I think she's lying. By the way, Joe, probably out of gravity. But if you think the man was Quinton, why didn't you let me go ahead and cross-question her? You'll never get anything out of her that way, Joe. Not even if you manage to took her up and prove she's lying. Then how do you think we ought to do? If the man was Quinton, he's evidently still hanging around somewhere near town. This means he has no dog team to make a getaway. Probably no suppliers. So? So, if our assumption's correct, I think there's a good chance that Flora will take food to him. Perhaps one of our suspicions were aroused for the handkerchief. In other words, if we keep watch on her, she may lead us to him. My golly, it's worth a try. It wasn't until the following night that Flora made any attempt to leave town. Shortly after midnight, the two Mouties who were posted in a grove of trees on a nearby hillside, saw her emerge from her cabin with a basket on her arm. There she goes now, Sergeant. She's leaving her cabin. As for following, see where she goes. Flora took the North Trail out of town and followed it for two or three miles. And then she turned aside and made her way along a rocky path that eventually led down into the mouth of a steep-walled canyon. Constable Burke was following at a safe distance behind, whispering to Sergeant Preston. Hold me back. How did I know where she's going? No. There ain't no dilapidated shack down this canyon. I forgot all about it. But I was probably using it as a hideout. But Constable was right. When Flora arrived at her destination, the shack was completely dark. Soon after she knocked on the door, the soft glow of a candle appeared between the chinks of the weather-beaten boards. A moment later, the door opened. Oh, hello, Mrs. Troy. Come in, Troy. I brought you some more food. All right. I just have a word of thank you for helping me this way. Well, at least I can do after the way you rescued Davy. But I'm afraid the police are suspicious. Well, what do you mean? For that handkerchief you wrapped around Davy's head, it had your initials on it. What? The doctor noticed it and reported it as a criminal. Get your hands up close to Mounties. There you go. Bye, Sergeant. Well, you must have followed me here. Yes, we did. You should have told us the truth, Flora. You have the gun all right, Sergeant. And it's been fired once. What caliber? Forty-five. Same as the bullet that killed Mr. Crenshaw. All right, Quentin. Hold up your hands while I snap on these hands. Oh, look, I know things like bad for me, but I swear I didn't kill Mr. Crenshaw. Then why did you run off and hide this way? Because I lost my head. That's why. Better tell us the whole story. There's not much to tell, Sergeant. I had supper in town that night and then went back to the mine because Mr. Crenshaw wanted me to work late. When I went in the mine office, I found Mr. Crenshaw lying on the floor and the safe wide open. There's no use questions. But it's true. When I bent over him, he moaned and stirred a little. He wasn't quite dead. Then he opened his eyes and tried to speak. What did he say? Nothing. The word just wouldn't come. He was too far gone. So then he groped in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of blue paper. A piece of blue paper? That's right. It was a message. But before I got a chance to read it, the door opened and Howard Crenshaw burst in. He accused me of murdering his uncle. Where is this message you were speaking about? Oh, in my right-hand pocket. Here it is, Sergeant. Fine. Better pay me that five grand at the end of this week. It'll be too fine for you. Signed slick. You know anyone called Flick, Joe? There's a gambler in town called Flick Rodell. Would he have any reason for threatening Crenshaw? Well, I know I... Maybe it's just my imagination. But Howard Crenshaw seemed mighty anxious to get his hands on this note. He demanded that I hand it over just before I pointed the gun at him. Did Howard Crenshaw do any gambling, Joe? Why, yes. I thought he'll think of it. He did spend a lot of time at the Royal Flush Cafe. That's Flick Rodell's favorite hangout. Oh. An all-probability Howard Crenshaw stands to inherit his uncle's mind. What are you driving at, Sergeant? If Bert pulled this note out of his pocket, he must have meant it as a clue to the person who shot him. And I'm wondering if the note might have belonged to Howard Crenshaw. Holy mackerel. You mean he shot his uncle? Well, he certainly had a motive, especially as Flick Rodell was pressing him for money. His uncle's death would bring him a fortune. My golly, that's true. You think we should arrest Howard Crenshaw? This note isn't conclusive evidence, Joe. We don't even know for sure if it's said to him. We can find out from Flick Rodell, maybe. But that still wouldn't prove, definitely, that Crenshaw was guilty of a murder. We can have a better idea. What is it? Crenshaw knows that Quentin has this note. If our theory is correct, he'll be anxious to keep us from getting into our hands. Well, perhaps we can use it to trap him. Flora. Yes? You said you'd deliver baked goods to the Crenshaw mine, didn't you? That's right. Why? Well, here's what I have in mind. Tomorrow I want you to go out to the mine. We'll continue our adventure in just a moment. Boy, oh boy, that was a curved pitch that would pool any batter. Hey, kid, wouldn't you like to be in the ballpark and see how a star pitcher makes the ball curved right over home plate? Golly, everything about a major or minor league game is exciting. And the crowd's the goody. Get in on that excitement. Come out to the ball game as guests of a major or minor league team. Walk right through the gate free if you're 12 years or younger and have mom or pop with you or another paying a dog. It's as easy to get a free baseball ticket as going to the grocery store. Get it right inside packages of Quaker Puff Tweet and Quaker Puff Rice and Muffet Tread-A-Tweet. You get two free tickets inside Quaker Pack-O-10. Names of teams and dates are on every ticket. Golly, why wait? Get a free baseball ticket package of Quaker Puff Tweet-O-Rice, Muffet Tread-A-Tweet, or Quaker Pack-O-10. If your store doesn't have the special packages yet, send a box top from the regular package to baseball box 5205 Chicago 77, Illinois. Now to continue. The following day, Floor delivered a basket full of baked goods to the Crenshaw mine office. Here's your order, Mr. Crenshaw. You have two loads of bread and three pies. Thank you, Mrs. Troy. The mine hand certainly do like your baking. I'm glad to hear it. Now, here's your money. Thank you. Now, this will help to pay for Davies' doctor bill. Oh, say, that's right. I understand he had an accident. Yes. Yes, he had a bad fall out in Stony Canyon. He might have blamed their unconscious for some time, but luckily some man happened to be living in the shack out there. You mean that old broken-down shack? That's right. Don't ask me why anyone should move into that place. Who was this man? Oh, I had no idea. Davies said he was tall and dark-haired, and he thought he'd seen him before. But he must have been mistaken because the man claimed he was a stranger in these parts. He did, hmm? Well, that's interesting. That's mighty interesting. Well, thanks, Mrs. Troy. Thanks for the bait, good. See you next week. Goodbye, Mr. Crenshaw. Howard Crenshaw waited until Flora had gone. Then he hurried into town to the Royal Flush Cafe, where he was greeted by Stick Rodelli. What are you looking for excited about, Crenshaw? Listen, you beg me? I think I'd find out where Lee Crenshaw's hiding. Where? Some guy's moved into that old shack in Stony Canyon, and he answers Quentin's description. I'll just find out how to tell him to the world, Troy. The kid Davie had a fall out there in the canyon, and this guy rescued him. Davie said he was tall and dark, and he thought he'd seen him before. But on the end of the night, if he claimed he was a stranger in these parts, by the time that it might be Quentin's death, we'd better go out there tonight and check up on him. If it is Quentin, we'll get that note, and make sure he never gets a chance to tell them how he's about it. That night, Howard Crenshaw and Slick Rodelli left town and drove out to Stony Canyon. Leaving their teams at the mouth of the canyon, they approached the shack on foot, and crept quietly up to the top. They just thought it was probably a sleep. They got open the door without waking him. Have you got him right? Right. Ah, there he is. He's moving down the floor. Shed the door when I like to dance a light. A moment later, as the soft glow of the candle lit up the interior of the shack, Lee Quentin stirred and opened his eyes. He's waking up. Crenshaw, get your hands up, Quentin. So this is where you've been hiding out from the law, Troy. What are you going to do? You'll find out. First, I want that paper you got from my uncle. The one he gave you just before he died, it's in my pocket. I'll hand it over and don't try any false moves. All right, all right, here. Thanks. How about it, Crenshaw? The message I wrote you? Yeah, this is it, all right. So that note was written to you, huh, Crenshaw? What about it? Well, now I'm beginning to understand. You owe this man money and he was threatening you. I'll bet you killed your uncle so you could inherit his money and pay off your debt. You're smarter than I thought, Quentin. Just so happens, you're right. I arranged a frame you for the murder. And you played right into my hands by running away. Well, your scheme won't work, Crenshaw. You're out of luck. I'm afraid you're the one that's out of luck, Quentin. Because now that I've located you and gotten hold of this message, I'm going to kill you. Oh, so it's going to end. Morning. As the sergeant fired at Crenshaw, flick raised his gun, but King Leap before he could shoot. Get away from here, Leap! Just gotten caught in the pool as the great dog spanked into a scum. Stop! Don't come off! Get away from me! All right, King. Come, boy, I've been covered. Put your hands up, Mr. and back up against that wall. Pick up their guns, John. Right, Crenshaw. Did you get his confession? Yes, we were right outside the door and heard the whole thing. How unbrazen did you happen to be here? You walked into a trap, Crenshaw. For a joy, I let you think that Quentin was hiding here. I hoped you'd come to get that note, and you didn't disappoint me. Stop all the luck. I certainly am grateful to you, sergeant. It's a great ploy of joy. Without her help, the plan wouldn't have worked. I sure will thank you. She's the most wonderful girl I've ever known. She's a girl like... Well, if I could persuade her to marry me someday, I'd be the luckiest fellow in the world. Well, here's wishing you luck. As she accepts, David will be getting a new father. You'll be getting a best pastry cook in the territory. Well, Joe, let's hand Coach Lickardell and Bandage Crenshaw and take the two of them back to town. This case is closed. We'll return in just a moment for the word about our next exciting adventure. Here's a mutual note for you. Mutual is a network that has programs you can enjoy throughout the week. If you like question-and-answer fun, then you'll find there are all sorts of quiz programs you can listen to on Mutual. You can try and out-guess the contestants and see if you know the right answer before they do. Even if you don't know, it's loads of fun listening to others, and you can learn a lot at the same time, too. And some of you boys and girls probably have favorite songs and favorite singers that you like to listen to. When you tune into Mutual, you'll hear many of the stars you like best. Singing and playing the kind of music you enjoy most. Don't forget, too, there are programs of outdoor adventure and others of barn dance music on Jamboree. There's plenty of good listening waiting for you on your Mutual dial. Tune in every weekday afternoon for Mutual's famous programs, especially designed for adventure lovers. And remember to listen other times as well for different kinds of programs you like over most of these stations. A lonely tropper's cabin deep in the woods near Parable Creek. King is alone in the cabin asleep by the stone. His shoulder and his throat are bandaged, and even now he dreams of the terrible battle he wades with the leader of the wolf pack, the Nightly Wolf. And then suddenly the great dog is wide awake. He springs to his feet, runs to the door, grabs the latch string and his teeth and pulls. The latch is lifted and the door is blown open. King gashes out into the night and the blizzard. Some unexplainable instinct has warned him that his master needs his help. Where is the sergeant? What danger is he facing in that dark woods? King doesn't know, but he's forgotten his wounds and he's racing on to what may be a rendezvous with death. These Sergeant Preston of the Yukon Adventures are brought to you every Monday through Friday at this time by the Quaker Roads Company, makers of Quaker Pop Wheat and Quaker Pop Rice, the delicious cereal shot from gun. By special recording in cooperation with the Mutual Broadcasting System. They are a copyrighted feature of Sergeant Preston of the Yukon Incorporated, created by George W. Trendle, produced by Trendle Campbell Muir Incorporated and directed by Fred Flower Day. The part of Sergeant Preston is played by Paul Sutton. This is Jay Michael wishing you good bye, good luck and good health from Quaker Pop Wheat and Quaker Pop Rice. So long. This is Mutual Radio Network for All America.