 The challenge of the Yukon. A new King! A new Husky! The Wonder Dog King, swiftest and strongest of Eskimo lead dogs, blazes the trail through storm and snow for Sergeant Preston as he meets the challenge of the Yukon. Sergeant Preston was typical of the small band of Northwest Mounted Police who preserved law and order in the new Northwest country where the greed for wealth and power led to frequent violence and bloodshed. But in spite of the odds against them, Sergeant Preston and his Wonder Dog King met that challenge and justice ruled triumphant. Corporal Standish was one of the youngest men on the force of the Northwest Mounted Police. He smiled to himself as he glanced at his two prisoners plodding along the frozen trail. Jack Snyder and Sam McClain, two of the wilyest criminals to set foot in the Yukon. With a sense of pride, he anticipated the satisfaction he'd experience when he marched them into headquarters. But fate sometimes cheats a man of a hard-earned victory, and even as Corporal Standish urged his team on confidently, Jack Snyder spoke guardedly to his partner. At the rate we're traveling, both of us will be looking through bars mighty soon unless we make a break. Now listen, you got nothing to lose. They'll end up hanging both of us and you know it. It seems like you and that molly have been kind of palsy. Maybe a figure he'll close his eyes and let us run away. And I've been trying to make him think we let him take us in without any trouble. Yeah, just two model prisoners. Now you're jittery. Losing your nerve and what little brains you had. You gotta be making camp in an hour or so. When we bunk down for the night, watch me. You mean you got something planned? Don't I always? Just wait, Sam. I'll find the Corporals in for a big surprise. Corporal Standish had been overconfident. The moment he relaxed his guard was all that Jack Snyder needed. Stop him, Sam. I've got it. Take it easy, Monty. You'll never get away with this, Snyder. You're wrong. You are getting away with it. I'll keep them covered while you get the sled set to my Sam. I'll get this pack back on it. The young Mount Easterd watching Sam McClain load the supplies on the sled. Minutes dragged by. And then... Everything ready? Yeah, come on. Right. So long, Corporal Standish. Sorry it was necessary to take your grub. I'll catch up with you if it's the last thing I do. Yeah, it probably will be. You're miles from nowhere, Monty. And if the wolves don't get you, the cold will. Get the dogs going, Sam. March, you malamute! See, Sam? Monty's have quite a reputation, but they're like all along. I'll give you credit for the break, Jack. Come on, March! But I still think you should have dropped him. Oh, it's better this way. If we had killed him, somebody would have found him. Hey, before we could get the Skagway. But as it is, you'll do a lot of wandering without dogs and no gun. And when, and if he's found, it'll look like what you might call a natural death. March, you malamute! Corporal Sandish had one plot as he walked along the moonlit trail, letting them slip through my fingers. I've got to get help. Find someone who'll lend me a sled. The young policeman set a brisk pace for himself, realizing he must cover as much territory as possible while he adds strength. In spite of himself, his heart sank with misgivings as he thought it'd be uneven odd. Two months later, he found himself in the woods. In spite of his misgivings, if he thought it'd be uneven odd. Two men on a sled, against the time he could make on foot. The Yukon wilderness was a land of wild beauty and brooding stillness. On a sled with a good pack of dogs, Corporal Sandish had many times experienced an exhilaration in its loneliness. Now, he felt the terrible challenge at herald. He remembered the men who died on the trail, unable to bear the cold and hardship of a merciless country. Dogedly, he kept walking, his feet aching and blistered in his boots. Daylight came. And then, another day, and he began losing track of time. Keep going. Can't stop. Keep going, my eyes. I feel like they're full of sand. No blindness. Thought I was heading for Preston's territory, but... I might have lost my trail. It's hopeless. I'll never make it. I'll keep going. Maybe I... Hug King tilted his nose in the sharp Yukon air. Hug King, on you, Hug King! King's more open ahead of the dogs than with him. It's almost as if he's stopping. Let us catch up with him. All right, fella. Hey, don't the dogs go fast enough to please you? What in the world? What are you listening for, boy? But King wasn't listening. His sense of smell often told him things long before his ears picked up a sound. And now, it would cut the scent of a man he recognized, a man Sergeant Preston knew. He glanced back toward the mountain. What is it, fella? In answer, King raced along the trail, knowing the mountain would follow him. King stopped beside the prostrate man minutes before the sled reached the spot. He recognized the mountain's uniform and knew that when Preston found his friend, there'd be an explanation. Oh, you huckies, oh! Quite stylish. Well, he hasn't been wounded. But how could he have lost his sled? It's Preston's turn. What happened? Preston. He's lost consciousness. Come on, fella. This looks bad, King. Mighty bad. Sergeant Preston watched over the young policeman as he regained his strength. At intervals, Corporal Standish told his story. Until finally, he completed it. Preston frowned, and King, who was quick to sense his master's thoughts, stood quietly beside him. And I was bragging about my stripe. I'll be lucky if I don't lose them after this. Get the dogs up, King. That's it, fella. You get the sled, Stan. Where do we go from here, Sergeant? We'll retrace your steps and see if we can find some evidence of the direction I took. You ask me, they're heading straight for Skagway just as fast as my dog can get them there. At a camp, they started trail a few days later. Jack Snider looked into the fire. Watch on your mile. No, Sam, it's just possible that Mountie got through to some help. Well, what if he did? If he did, you'd know the first place we'd head for. Yeah? That's why we're laying low for a few days. Hang on, wait a minute. You've got enough provisions. I say we ought to turn off here and stop at Fort Mund. We'll stock up then much toward Juneau. Get a boat there. See what I mean? I don't know. It seems kind of risky to me. Well, let's just say we'd better walk into a trap at Skagway. If there is a trap, you should have dropped that, Molly. I told you that before we left. Well, we didn't. We can't go back now. Just remember, Sam, it was me that got us away from that lawman. I ain't planning to walk into another one. Okay. You win. We'll turn off. Early the next morning, the two fugitives turned off the trail and the heavy snow covered their tracks. Thought mid-afternoon they made camp and together went out with the Mounties rifle to look for some game. When they returned to their camp, the snow would stop falling. It's just one night we won't have to settle for bacon. Good thing you dropped this dough. Yeah, be a chick. Hey, Jack, somebody's been here while we was going. Somebody, nothing. Here, look at these tracks. A bear? Well, I'll be... And he got into the grub, made off of every last piece of bacon. Well, I was getting sick of beating it anyway. Add to the fire, will you? Meanwhile, Sergeant Preston and Corporal Standish stopped at the point of the trail where Jack Snyder and Sam McClain had made a turn. The sergeant decided to make camp and King raced through the timber, leaving the two policemen together. The snow was soft beneath his feet as he ran. His nose tilted in the air, sampling the scents of the wilderness. King enjoyed these runs by himself when he was free of the responsibility of keeping the team of dogs in line. Occasionally, he heard a twig snapping under the feet of an unseen animal. And then... But wait, what was that? King stopped. His lean muscular body momentarily rigid. A bear. But with the scent of the bear came another scent. Bacon. Where would a bear find bacon in this wilderness unless... unless he had gone into a man's camp and eaten man's food? A great dog knew the marauder-like habits of these animals and the curiosity was aroused. No bear had broken into Sergeant Preston's rations. There must be another camp in the vicinity. He followed the bear tracks. What was that? I could have sworn I saw something moving back near the timber. Yeah, you're imagining things. A wolf. Wolves traveling packs and soda dogs. Forget it. As King raced back over the snow-covered country, his mind was in a turmoil. He knew that Sergeant Preston and the younger Mountie were trailing two men. This was the only camp within miles, he was sure. Would they be the men? That's who he had seen sitting by the campfire? Preston would know. What is it, boys? Hey, he seems like he's trying to say something, Sergeant. Why? He's getting the team lined up. Hey, what is this, anyway? That's strange. He's lining them up, but I wonder why. King knew the distance could be covered much faster in the sled, and he used every device he could think of to make the Mountie understand him. I don't know what you're trying to say, King. He saw anything like it in my life. Taking your sleeve and leading you to the sled. Looks to me like he wants you to get ready to march. That seems to be it, huh, King? We've just made camp. Whatever it is, it can wait. Well, that's where you're wrong, Stan. Whenever it is, King thinks I should see it now. And that's what we're going to do. King led the team to the small camp where Jack Snyder and Sam McClain sat by the fire. Too late, they recognized Corporal Stan, who says he approached them. That's McClain and Snyder, Sergeant. He followed us. I told you you should have dropped him. All right, Ronnie. You've got us covered. Fine, Snyder. I'm going to keep you covered. It was a week later when Sergeant Preston walked into Inspector Maynard's office. And as his superior congratulated Corporal Sandish, the young Mountie looked uncomfortable. You've done a fine piece of work, Corporal. It all goes to prove you deserve those stripes you won. Sir, if it hadn't been for Sergeant Preston and his dog... Sergeant? What do you mean, Sandish? I'm sure that Corporal means that King and I made the trip with him. We met on the trail. Is that so? Well, sometimes it helps having a friend with you on the trail. It gets lonesome at times. What's that, Corporal? Oh, I said it does help, sir. Yes, it's a mighty big help. And I won't forget it, Sergeant. Yes, King, old boy. The Corporal's case is closed. These copyrighted dramas originate in the studios of WXY's The Detroit, and all characters, names, places and incidents used are fictitious. They're sent to you each week at the same time. Let's try...