 The challenge of the Yukon. Oh, King, have you helped me? The Wonder Dog King, the 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. Wayne City in 1898, with a hurriedly thrown together settlement with a few-flame buildings, scattered log cabins and groups of tents. Its population included men of all types, most of them prospectors. But all of them had come to the Yukon with just one thought. To get rich, quick. In front of the cabin that served as the post office was a sled and a dog team. Beside the team stood a lead dog, not harness to the pack, but part of it. His coat shone in the sunlight. His proud head was high and the muscles of his body showed beneath his skin, even in repose a reminder of strength and agility. His eyes were turned to a group of prospectors, not a half a dozen faces away from him. They were gathered about a clean-shaven man who looked expectantly at the faces around him as he spoke. All right men, come on. Step right up and get your cake of soap. Mighty hard to buy up here. And I am offering it to you at the low price of only $5 a cake. Take a whiff of that fragrance, boys. You wash with this soap and I guarantee you'll smell so good that later it'll come from out loud. Wait a minute, Mike. You mean when you wash with that soap you really smell like that? You bet your life you do. You get clean and you smell good for the price of only $5. He's gonna buy a cake, mister. Don't let him get you, Clem. I bought a cake from him and it not only don't get the dirt off, but cotton's on it all. Once you get the soap out of that there are wrappers in. There ain't hardly any smell to it at all. Oh, let's see, Sam. If that was true, I'd give you your money back. I'm not trying to tip anyone, just making honest living. I'm telling you it's true and I'm right here. And I know Dernwell ain't gonna see that $5 a mile again. If that's an honest living, I'm... What about that, Mike? Why, I'll prove it to you. If you can prove it, Gallagher, by golly, I'll buy every one of them cakes of soap you're holding in your hand. That settles it. You've as good as got them right now. How are you going to do it? There's your answer. That dog? Where I come from folks wash their dogs. Chances are that mud over there ain't ever seen soap and water in his life. I'll get him clean and what more he'll smell for. Hey, now, Gallagher, you can't wash that dog. Well, it's a matter. Back him out already? Come out over, Jen. I'll prove to you Mike Gallagher ain't misrepresenting this soap. You're asking for trouble if you touch that dog. I'm telling you. Don't you know who he is? Dogs are dogs to me. All right pooch, you're gonna get it back. With steady eyes, the great dog King watched the man walking toward him, the crowd following closer to the heels. And as the man neared him, the smell of soap filled the dog's nostrils. It was a hated smell, and the man associated with it was even more repulsive. Mike Gallagher stretched out his arm to grab the collar about King's neck. The owner's gonna thank me for this, boys. His owner ain't gonna thank you for anything, Gallagher. I'm telling you, this soap... Now he don't look like he needs a bath to me. Look at his coat. Just let the dirt don't show. You'll be surprised. Hey, you better... Gallagher's hand touched the dog, and as it did, King buried his teeth. The hair on the back of his neck bristling dangerously. Why you... Gonna get mean, are ya? Get away from that dog, Gallagher. He ain't even gonna take no monkey with him. King looked at the soap salesman, his eyes glowing firstly. The dog hadn't moved an inch. And as he stood imperious and menacing, Mike Gallagher involuntarily backed away from him. His hands dropped to his side. I told you to let that dog alone. Sit now, King, old boy. Put the mail on the sled. There. All right, fellas. I'm King. I'm your husband. The dog belongs to the Mountie, eh? And in case you never heard of him, that was Sergeant Preston. Next time you plan to make a dog out of fool, Gallagher, you better make sure who he is. Come to think of it, your little plan kind of boomerang, didn't it? Don't worry. I'm not forgetting that dog, huh? I'll lay even money on it that he won't forget you, either. Months passed, and Mike Gallagher made his way further inland, selling soap in some towns and gambling in others. Finally, in Western City, he settled down, bought the Wildcat Saloon, and started in business. Behind the long bar in the Wildcat, two men worked filling and refilling glasses for the prospects and trappers lined up in front of them. The younger man had an expression of determination on his face, and the bartender who worked with him glanced at him in disgust. You're a telly. You're completely crazy, Sam. Grand daft. That's what you have. I thought myself funny. A solid piece of gold, the size of my hand. There's more where that came from, and I'm going to get it. Yeah, sure. And I guess you know exactly where to find it. Oh, there, buddy. It looks like you're having quite an argument. How are you, Sam? Oh, fine, Sergeant. This crazy fool's got the notion in his head he's going prospecting. Gold fever. I've got enough money saved up to last me a while, and I'm hitting the trail in the morning. You see, Sergeant? You can't talk any sense to him. Well, maybe he'll be lucky, buddy. Lucky. Sergeant, I've been filling glasses a long time for disappointed old leather-faced flutes hunting for the rainbows in. And all they get for all their trouble in digging is their busted hearts. Well, I wish you luck, Sam, but I sure think you're making a mistake. Barney Craver went on with his job at the Wildcat Saloon, and for two months, he didn't see Sam Ritchie. When at last he looked up to see the young man walking toward him, he could hardly believe his eyes. Hey, girly, I'm glad to see you, Sam. Well, the place ain't been the same since you left. What you got up your sleeve? You look like the cat that swallowed the canary. Uh, look, Barney, is there any chance of talking to him? I'll be with you in a minute. Oh, there it is, Barney. You can see for yourself it's the McCoy. Well, it sure looks like your struck a kid. No, if you'll take me, we'll be partners in this. I want to go on working the claim, but I just don't have the cash I need to go ahead. Well, to tell you the truth, I ain't got more than a few hundred dollars, but you're welcome to that, understand? But I'm afraid it ain't enough to... Say, Gallagher's always interested in something that'll make money for him. Come on, there's no reason why this can't be a three-way partnership. Sam Ritchie's strike proved even richer than he hoped. And as Mike Gallagher watched the returns from his investment piling up, he had no reason to regret the partnership he'd made. But the man was greedy, as well as money-wise. And late one evening, hours after the Wildcat had closed, he went to Barney Craver's cabin. Yeah, this is kind of unexpected. Ooh, thought I'd stop him for a while. Well, I'm glad you did. Say, were you talking to Sam? He came into town again this evening. Yeah, I saw him. Sure was a lucky day for us when we went into partnership with him. Yeah, bye, Gallagher. Is there one thing wrong with that partnership, Barney? What's that? Partnership usually means two partners. In this case, there's one too many. I don't get you, Mike. You will. Hey, what's the idea of that gun? That one too many is you, Barney. Now, wait a minute. You can't... Can't I? Isn't that a thing in the world to stop me? Knows fallen now. They'll cover my tracks on a leasiest. Nobody knows. I pack a gun. Why, you double-crossing, no good stuff. Ow! Who won't do anything, Barney? From now on, it's a two-way split. In a little while, the claim's gonna have but one. And that'll be Mike Gallagher. A short time later, Sergeant Preston arrived in Wesson City. He had decided to get camped along the trail and had urged his dogs on, covering the last 20 miles to the settlement, hours after darkness. Well, King Old Boy, we made it. It looks like everybody's turned in for the night. Well, not quite everybody. Barney Cramer's still up. We'll step in, see what the chances are of bunking in this place tonight. Oh, King! Oh, you hussy! The Mounties stood knocking on the door of the cabins, a light from the window shining through the falling snow. He waited for an ante. And then, King stood near this falling figure on the floor. Two strong scents filling his nostrils. The scent of death, he knew as soon as he walked into the cabin. But this... This other oldie... Barney evidently brought up a fight for his life. He tore this piece out of the murderous shirt and the snow's already eliminated in any tracks. Well, sir, murders have been solved with less evidence than this. What is it, King? The next morning, Sergeant Prustin with King of the Hills walked into the Wildcats alone. Even at that early hour, men were lined at the bar and sitting at poker tables. Their eyes widening were surprised as the Mounties strode through the room. But more surprised than any of his customers was Mike Gallagher. Well, Sergeant, this is a surprise. Didn't know you weren't home. We just got in last night. The dog of yours seems to be in a bad humor. What's wrong, King? King stood in front of Mike Gallagher. The dogs fur a bristling stifle from the sculling bow to the tip of the tail. Bristling as it had done two months before. He recalled the obnoxious odor of soap as he glowered at Gallagher. The same odor he had detected in the cabin the night before. What's wrong, King? But the dog stood motionless, knowing Prustin would not understand if he were to jump at this man. He doesn't stop at ground. He's on his mind, Sergeant. Mike, King is an infallible judge of character. Yeah? Well, he's judging the wrong man now. Get him outside. I'm not going to have any dog carrying out like that in here, even if he is yours. Now, wait a minute. I just remembered. When we were in Barney Cramer's cabin last night, he acted the same way. As if he knew something as I didn't. Oh, you stayed at Barney's last night. I don't like to give orders to a policeman. But this is my solution. Yeah? Brisk him. Go on. Keep your hands in front of you, Mike. Hey, what's the idea? You can't get away with this. Hey, what's this? Hey, Mike, I didn't know you carried a gun. I'll take that. One car to try it. That's 38. Mike, this was the gun that killed Barney Cramer. What? Why are you crazy? I don't know anything about it. Open your code, Mike. I said open it. Where'd you tell your shirt? Why... You won't get me out there! I'll approve, I need, Mike. Sergeant, you said Barney is... Yes, Sam. But why would Mike kill him? We were all partners. We never had any arguments or anything. I don't know why exactly. Perhaps because he felt he'd get a larger share of the gold with Barney out of the way. Poor Barney. Tell me, Sergeant, how did... how did King know? I'm not sure, Sam. When Barney's cabin last night, I wondered why he acted as he did. I guess I'll never really know the answer. Leave us right. All right. Come on, Mike. Get moving. Yes, fellow? The case is closed. These copyrighted dramas originate in the studios of WXY's in Detroit, and all characters, names, places, and incidents used are practitioners.