 Now, as gunshots echo across a wind-swept snow-covered reaches of the wild northwest, Quaker Oats, the giant of the cereals, presents Sergeant Preston of the Yukon. It's Yukon King, swiftest and strongest lead dog of the northwest, blazing the trail for Sergeant Preston of the northwest mounted police in his relentless pursuit of lawbreakers. Yukon King on, you huskies! Gold, gold discovered in the Yukon, a stampede to the Klondike in the wild race for riches. Back to the days of the gold rush, with Sergeant Preston and his wonder dog, Yukon King, as they meet the challenge of the Yukon. Brought to you by Quaker Oats. Sergeant Preston was on the trail when he saw Tom Gordon near the latter's newly found mining property. Gordon's sled was loaded, and the elderly prospector was harnessing his dog when Preston stopped his team near the mine. Yukon King, how are you, Husky? Hello, Tom. Hi, Sergeant. Don't tell me you're giving up on this mine of yours? Giving up? No, sir. Not when it's giving up to me. Giving up more gold than I ever saw anywhere in this park. You really made a strike, Tom? Yeah, look at those bags on that sled. There's nothing but gold in them. That's right. Filled with dust there. Dust and some nuggets I washed out before taking off. Congratulations, Tom. You've worked hard. You deserve to strike it, Rich. Thanks. I'm taking this load to White Horse for banking. I aim to hold on to what I've mined so far. I'll help you, Tom. I'm going to White Horse myself. Huh? You'll help me? Well, dog gone. I never expected anything like this. This is swell. We should make White Horse within three days. Unless a blizzard comes up, I don't like the looks of that sky. I don't either, Sergeant. Where will we stop on the way south? Bent Hat will be one place, I know. We can't make Bent Hat for at least two days. We'd better stay over at North End tonight. North End, huh? That's a good idea. They have what they call a hotel there. It'll be safe sleeping on a place like that. You ready to start, Sergeant? I am. So am I. Up front, King. All right, on King! On, you huskies! The wind was howling, and there were snow flurries in the air that night. As Sergeant Preston and Tom Gorton brought their sleds to a stop in front of the Ramshackle Hotel in North End. Okay. Let's get that stuff unloaded, Tom. All right, Sergeant. They began at once to unload the sacks of gold dust and small nuggets from the sled. Then, before doing anything else, they carried them inside and to the room assigned to them by the sleepy-eyed clerk. Say, this room will be all right, Sergeant. Two beds in it, too. This will be the first time I've slept on a bed in more than three years. We'll put the bags in this closet, Tom. Sure thing. When they'd placed the gold in the closet, Sergeant Preston turned to Tom Gorton. You want to eat now, Tom? Not yet, Sergeant. I'm not used to being on the trails alone. Not lately, that is. If you don't mind, I'm going to lie down for a while. Whatever you say, Tom. I'll take the dogs and sleds to Thread Summit's canals there down at the end of the street. You rest. I'll be back in an hour or so. Two men, Jack Finley and Buffalo Davis, had been in the café opposite the hotel when Sergeant Preston and the prospector arrived and unpacked what could only be bags of gold dust. Now, as Preston led first his own team and then the dogs of Tom Gorton to the canals at the end of the street, both men's thoughts took the same turn. Jack, that was gold they had in those bags they took into the hotel. Yeah, and that gold's inside now with only that old cute Tom Gorton to look after it. You were thinking what I am, huh? We can go in there and take it from them before anyone knows what's happened. No, no, no. Not just like that, Buffalo. Getting the gold would be easy. Holding on to it's another thing. Preston around. Buffalo, we'll have to take care of that money. You're going to kill him, Jack. How? Other ways of taking care of them without having to kill him. Like what? Get our sled ready. Bring some rope from it. I'll get the ropes, Jack, but what's the play? There's that broken down cabin at the end of the street just a little way from the canals. Preston will have to pass there and come back to the hotel. Here's what we'll do. I'll go to the rear of the cabin and start yelling. When he was sure that the dogs were fed and would be protected for the night, Sergeant Preston left Fred Summit's kennels. He and the king were passing a space between two empty shacks when they heard a yell from the darkness. Seemingly to the rear of the buildings. Come on, King. Someone's in trouble. Sergeant Preston, followed by King, rushed between the buildings toward the spot where Jack Finley was shouting for help. As they passed an open door in the deserted shack, King stopped suddenly and growled in warning. But too late, before Preston could heed the dog, Buffalo Davis leaped in the doorway and brought his gun down on the head of the Mountie. As Preston fell to the snow-covered ground, King leaped at Buffalo and retreated into the cabin. King's teeth closed around the arm of Buffalo Davis, shaking the crooked gun to the floor. Davis panicked stricken, called for help and tried to break away from the animal. Then Jack Finley ran into the cabin and used his great strength in the attempt to loosen the dog's hold. Finley behind King wrapped his arms around the dog's neck and pulled mightily. Buffalo! Buffalo, when I get him off of you, run outside! Now run! The pressure on the dog's throat caused him to open his mouth wide. Davis, visibly shaken, ran outside. Finley, his arms still around the struggling dog, inch toward the doorway. He used his strength in a final effort and pushed King away from him toward the far wall. He pivoted and rushed into the night, slamming the door behind him and leaving King inside the windowless room. Thanks, Jack. That dog was going to tear me to pieces. Don't mind that. Help me turn and gag pressure. Then we'll carry him back to the cabin and throw him in the bushes. We'll continue our adventure in just a moment. Here's a time-saving breakfast tip for every mother who has a baby three months or older. When you cook good nourishing hot Quaker Oats for the baby, it's all ready for the rest of the family, too. The creamy, delicious, smooth Quaker Oats they love. The easy directions are on every package of Quaker Oats or Mother's Oats, which are the same. And you know, doctors can tell you that among cereals, oatmeal is the finest source of bodybuilding protein for your family. That's why so many pediatricians recommend good nourishing Quaker Oats for babies from the time they're three months old. And recently, a leading state university proved that the protein in Quaker Oats is better for growth than that of 14 nationally known breakfast cereals, including two well-known baby cereals. So for the wonderful benefit it can give your whole family, from baby to hard-working grown-ups, serve good hot Quaker or Mother's Oats every morning. It costs less than a penny a serving. Now to continue. Minutes after they left Sergeant Preston bound and gagged in the brush, the crooks entered the hotel and knocked the dozing night clerk unconscious. Then they went directly to the room where Tom Gordon lay resting on the bed. Before the prospector could rise, the intruders were upon him. One swift blow, a gag in his mouth, and Gordon was no longer a problem for Finley and Davis. They went to the closet and removed the sacks of gold. A few minutes later, the robbers placed the bags of dust and nuggets on their sled to the south. Kennel owner Fred Summit left his kennels about midnight, carrying a lighted lantern, and started toward the cafe up the street. A short distance from his place, he stopped as he heard the insistent barking of a dog somewhere nearby. He was in front of a deserted shack, and the barking seemed to come from there. That's strange. He walked between two buildings to the side door where he could hear the dog. He pushed open the door, holding the lantern above his head. He immediately recognized the great husky that rushed toward him. King, what's the matter, King? What are you doing here? Where's Sergeant Preston? The dog tugged at Summit's sleeve with almost human insistence, and then rushed into the night, Summit bowed. Outside, he found King sniffing at the ground. Then the dog raised its head, and with a bound ran to the rear of the area. If something's happened here all right, catching by the snow, there must have been... King had returned, and once more was tugging at the man's sleeve. The dog lover, knowing of King's great intelligence, followed the dog immediately. His lantern held high again. Summit walked through the brush where King led him. And there he found Sergeant Preston bound and gagged. What? Sergeant Preston? Just a moment, Sergeant. I'll have you free in a jiffy. Summit helped revive the malty, and together they went back to the hotel. Disregarding the clerk who greeted him in a frantic manner, Sergeant Preston led the way to the room where he had left Tom Gordon. Tom? Tom Gordon? He's afraid of this. He's tied up in gag, too. Sergeant, who did this to you and him? What's it all about? Someone's stolen the gold Gordon had in the closet. It's empty. I'll take the gag from Tom's mouth and untie him. When Sergeant Preston removed the gag and the ropes, Tom Gordon still did not move. Sergeant Preston felt the man's heart and pulse, and then forced open his eyelid. Oh, he's in bad shape. Summit, is Dr. Gray still in town? Yes, Sergeant. Do you want me to get him? Would you please? Meanwhile, I'll do what I can to help, Tom. When the doctor returned with Summit and began to treat the old prospector, Sergeant Preston left at once. He questioned the hotel clerk and men in the cafe and got a description of the crooks and the clothing they wore. Then, finally, he found the fresh trail of their dogs and sled on the road from town heading south. Well, King, whoever they are, they're heading toward Bent Hat, and we're going after them. Late the next afternoon, Jack Finley and Buffalo Davis, numb and almost blinded by snow, staggered with their team into the town of Bent Hat. Before heading for a hotel or any of the cafes dotting the street, Finley spoke to Davis. This is bad for us, Buffalo. We never figured on this blizzard. No, it's getting worse. We'll not be able to leave here, Jack. Not well it's like this. I know it. We're lucky we got this far. Buffalo, we have to worry about that Mountie Preston. Sure we do. At least we'll have to be on our trail by now. Unless he died from cold. We should have killed him at Gordon, I guess. Yeah, but we didn't. So we can't take chances. In case he is alive. What do you mean can't take chances? We'll have to. Don't argue about words. Get to the hotel, get these whiskers and cut our hair short. So Preston can't identify us if he sees us, huh? What about these clothes we'll wear? We'll buy no ones. Then we'll move around town saying we just came north from Whitehorse. Don't you think someone might get wise? Not if we're careful and play our part straight. We'll fool him, Buffalo. But we better start fooling him right away. Come on. A few hours later, as Sergeant Preston was nearing Bent Hat, two other men worked glumly in a shack at the end of Bent Hat Main Street. They were medicine showmen Monahue Rogers, spare and tall, and his dumpy assistant, Nifty. That's sufficient, Nifty. All right, boys. They had just emptied the contents of a large barrel into a great number of brightly labeled bottles. The labels proclaimed the liquid as Rogers' Golden Elixir, a cure for all diseases known to man. Rogers caught the last bottle and placed it beside the rest. At the end of the large platform at the front of the building. Nifty, my boon companion, we've bottled enough of our foul medication to last us until it's time to take our show on the road next spring. Yes. But a look to that blizzard outside will not sell a bottle till we do take to the road. Nobody will ever come to see our show tonight. Because of a little blizzard? Nifty, you forget. We are premier entertainers, actors, who will make these gold mad scavengers forget the wind and snow while we beguile them with our songs, stories, and, er, rheumatic dancing. They all have aches and pains. They all need Rogers' Golden Elixir. Yeah, and they'll all stay away from this joint tonight. You'll see. You're a pessimist, Nifty. I'm a starving pessimist, Monty. Somebody better come tonight or we'll end up eating each other. Ah, you have an idea there, Nifty. And I have the teas. However, enough of your cannibalistic thoughts. Let's take this empty barrel and place it at the rear of this temple of medicine and amusement. Put it outside? What for? The only barrel we have for mixing this leap up we make. Nevertheless, we'll place it outside until after the lame and hawth leave tonight. We don't want them to realize our panacea is made here in a barrel. After all, I tell them we bring it to them from the earth-ridden jungles of Africa. I'll get full of snow if we put it out there. Grand. When we take the barrel back inside, we'll melt the snow and use it for our next mixture. All right. We have to put the barrel outside. Let's get it over with. You ready? Give me some help. Of course. Meanwhile, Jack Finley and Buffalo Davis had bought new clothes at Herman White's clothing store. Finley had bribed the clerk in the hotel at which they were staying to say that both men had been clean-shaven when they arrived and that they had come from Whitehorse. Then, self-assured, they set out for the Sluice Box Cafe. An hour later, Sergeant Preston arrived in Bent-Hack, found a place to leave his dogs and sled, and then started a round of the hotels and cafes. As Preston entered the Sluice Box Cafe, King's hair bristled. He began to sniff the air and growl. What's the matter, King? Good easy, fella. As Preston bent to pat the dog, two clean-shaven men, well-dressed but suddenly panicky, slipped from the far end of the bar and hurried out the rear door of the cafe. King began to calm down but continued to sniff the air as Sergeant Preston walked to the bar and spoke to the bartender. Hello, Rand. Hello, Sergeant. I'm looking for a couple of gold thieves. The bounty told of his quest for two bewiskered men and the reason for wanting them. They've come in here from the north, as far as I know. Not in the last couple of days, anyway. Only two men I know about came in from the south from Whitehorse sometime this afternoon. But they didn't have whiskers. No matter the fact, they're down at the other end of the bar. Right, right. That's funny. They were there a minute ago. At that moment, another man entered from the rear through the door where Davis and Finley had made their exit. He was Herman White, the clothing store owner. He walked up to greet Sergeant Preston. Sergeant Preston? Well, I'm glad to see you, Sergeant. What brings you to Bent Hats so soon after your last visit? I'm looking for a couple of thieves, Herman. You ever seen two fellas both with whiskers dressed in parkas and new in town, have you? By gully. Thieves, were they? I should have suspected that. Anyone shaving in this weather like they did. Shaving? You saw the men? Just a few minutes ago, they came out the rear door at this place where I was coming along the street. It was snowing hard, but I can tell my own clothes. Those were the two I told you about, Sergeant, they must have been. But they said they were from Whitehorse. Yeah, they told me the same thing. But they had whiskers and hair down to here when they exchanged their parkas for the clothes they're wearing. Well, King, that's why you growled when we came in here. He must have got their sand, eh? Yes, and I didn't give him his chance to follow up on it. But we'll go after them now, King. Hey, jolly thieves, eh? Sergeant, they seem to be heading for the hotel down the street, Lollie's place. Well, they'll not get far no matter where they head. We'll try Lollie's first. Come on, King. Finley and Buffalo Davis have become startled when Sergeant Preston and King entered the Sluice Box Cafe. They instinctively feared the dog's manner and had run into the night to be seen by Herman White, who had sold them their clothes. Realizing the man would be questioned and would tell the Mountie about them, they hurried to their hotel, grabbed the bags of gold and left by a side door. Blizzard or no Blizzard. We'll have to get our sled and dogs and take off in the trailer. Eh, why didn't we kill him when we had the chance? Why didn't we? Buffalo, pull back. Don't move for a minute. Finley, who had been walking slightly ahead, pulled back as he started to cross the rear of the alley between the hotel and the shack adjoining. He had seen Sergeant Preston and King crossing the street and heading for the lighted front door of the hotel. The Mountie Buffalo is going into the hotel. You'll be after us before we get the dogs together. Yeah. Can't see us now. Let's run for it. Where are you going, Chief? I don't know. Somewhere where we can hide these sacks. Somewhere with... Hey, Buffalo, here. Yeah, where? What are you doing? Jack Finley had stopped at a barrel placed at the rear door of the cabin where Monica Eul Rogers and Nifty Rucker waited for an audience that would never appear. Finley took both the gold laden sacks he carried and crammed them into the half-filled barrel. Yeah, mine are in there. Put yours in, Buffalo. Jack, this is crazy putting the gold in there. The trash barrel. Nobody look in there. Put those bags in quick. All right. I still think it's crazy. When Davis had placed his bags into the barrel, he and Finley scooped up snow from the ground and packed it around and on top of the bags. If they hurried off, the top of the barrel seemed untouched. Yeah. There's only one thing to do, Buffalo. If he catches up with us, we deny we were ever in North End. We stick to our Whitehorse story. Yeah, but if the hotel clerk taught you, if that feather we sold us in each closed dog... No one can prove we stole Gordon's gold. They can't find it, and they'll not. Now let's get out of here. The two crooks were making their way slowly to the spot where they'd placed their sled and dogs. And then suddenly a form loomed out of the darkness. All right, Tudu. I've been looking for you. Sergeant Preston. Hey, wait. Where'd you come from? Hey, what? Hey, the dog, keep away. Don't let him touch me. King leaped for Davis' arm and grabbed it in his teeth before the crook had reached for his gun. Finley, deciding to praise and out the situation, pretended the calmness he didn't feel. Sergeant, what's the idea? Call that dog off. What do you want with us? Don King, let him go away. I'll take his gun. There. He was going to bite. He was not going to bite. I think he recognizes you, and I think I'll be able to prove why. We didn't do anything. We just came in from Whitehorse. You'll end. You men step ahead of me and walk out into the street. I'm going to take you where we can talk. Got going? This is the end, Nifty. We die for want of food. A horrible end for the likes of me. Yes, I should say me. But at least we'll be able to drink. Oh, not the medicine. Not that cup. Enough. No foul words about Roger's golden elixir. I speak not of that. I mean we drink water, pure and clear from the snow we'll melt when we get the barrel inside. Come, help me roll it in. A few minutes later, they moved the snow-filled barrel from the rear of the shack into the single room. There. Certainly must be a heavy snow. This barrel seems to weigh a ton. But perhaps it's my weak condition. Perhaps. Nifty, what are you doing diving into the barrel like that? There's something in here, Monty. Hey, it's a sack. They look runny in the barrel. This looks like... Let me tear open that top and see what's in there. Oh. Oh, no, no. It's a mirage. I'm going mad, Nifty. It's gold. Look at it! Gold! I'll get some dust! Gold! It's good! Hey. Hey, Monty. He's fainted. Hey, Monty, wake up. Monty! We'll continue our adventure in just a moment. And now, here he is. That famous teller of tall tales, your old friend, Gabby Hayes. Hey, fellas and girls, I'll never forget the time years ago when me and my huskies were almost buried alive up in Yukon Blizzard. We'd been sledding through the storm all day. That night, it turned to sled up on its side so the huskies and me could get some shelter. The morning, we must have had a mountain of snow on top of us. It looked like we were buried alive. Well, sir, in a spot like that what I needed was some good nourishing hot Quaker Oats from my supplies. So I had a big bowl quick. And then, I felt new strength charging through me. I felt my muscles begin to feel super powerful. You see, there's more strength and more energy and oatmeal than in any other whole green cereal. Because Quaker Oats is the giant of the cereal. Yes, sir, re-bomb. So I just put my shoulders under the sled and I give such a heave... That mountain of snow cracked wide over. With such force, that Stibs McGrathy machine is down in the states recorded on Earthquake. Yes, sir. Say, you fellas and girls ought to see how the giant of the cereals can help you too, like it does old Gabby. Every morning, eat a heap and bowl of creamy, delicious Quaker Oats or make it Mother's Oats. Because shucks, they're exactly the same. Now to continue. Sergeant Preston's questioning and Herman White's testimony had been of no avail. The crooks, Finley and Davis, remained surprisingly cool and swore they'd never been in North End. There was no sign of the gold on them in their sled or at the hotel. Finally, Sergeant Preston let them go. I've no legal right to hold you. At least not yet. Well, you never will have. No? Well, I'll see. You may leave, Bant Hatt, both of you, but if you do, I'll be right behind you. I'll stick with you until I find the gold I'm sure you stole. Oh, you're wasting your time, Sergeant. Let's go, Buffalo. We're not running away, Sergeant. If you want us, we'll be over in the Sluice Box Cafe. Smiling to themselves, Finley and Davis entered the Sluice Box as they said they would. What they stopped short as they saw Red Oakley, the bartender holding tightly to the coat of a tall, lean man who held a sack in his hand. Hey, look, Buffalo. And at the same moment, Herman White, the clothing store owner, was running toward them. What's the matter with you? I'm sorry. It wasn't you who stole the gold it was Maggie Ratchas. He just came in with a bag full. I must get Sergeant Preston. Found the money in a barrel, he said. They're checking it, aren't they? I thought it to buy. You found money in a barrel. Our money, it has to be. Well, let's find out. If they can't take it from us, they can't. Let's run back to where we hid the bags. Sergeant Preston and King hurried to answer the summons to the cafe. There, Monogue Rogers, shaking an anguish, explained for the third time what had happened. And I swear on Hamlet's grave that we found it in a barrel. Come back with me if you don't believe it. Ask my man, Nifty. He has three more bags of gold there. I was hungry and thought I could use the gold. All right, Rogers, I believe you. I'm going back to your place. Come on. When Sergeant Preston and Marty Rogers followed by most of the men from the cafe got to Rogers' cabin, they found Nifty Rucker on the floor unconscious. But the gold was gone. The rear door was open and King rushed through the opening. King's picked up their scent. They heard him and he knows them. Sergeant Preston led the way through the rear door taking after King who was loping ahead. Jack Finley and Buffalo Davis had left the hut only a few moments before the appearance of Sergeant Preston and the men. They were running in the hope of getting their dogs and sled when they heard King behind them. Now as they turned into an alley, they realized King was on their heels. They dropped the sacks of gold and turned to face the dog. Hey, Jack, kill the dog. No! Buffalo! My arm! He's got it in his teeth! Take him off! First, we're going around now. Kill him. All right, Davis, stop that gun. I know you. Don't shoot that. Take it up, will you, Mr. Waitress? Yes, I have it, Sergeant. And the sacks of gold are here on the ground too. Thanks. These are the cooks, all right. No doubt about it. Oh, call him, call him! Aren't you going to help me? I'll call him off when you confess to stealing Gordon's gold. Oh, sure, sure. We'll confess. We took it. You have it there, haven't you? But call off this dog, will you? Don King, let him go, boy. I'll put the handcuffs on you and Davis and take you to Whitehorst. Ah, get zooks. This is as nerve-tingling as food. Rogers, when I have these men locked up, I'll treat you and your partner, Nifty, to the best meal in town. Bread is better than gold, Sergeant. Bread I can swallow. Gold? I cannot even chew. Well, you don't have to eat your heart out, as Finley and Davis are doing now. And now that we have them in the gold, this case is closed. Sergeant Preston will return in just a moment with a word about our next exciting adventure. Hello, folks. This is your friend, Aunt Jemima. Do your children like extra light pancakes? Then for supper tonight, just add milk to my Aunt Jemima pancake, or buckwheat mix, and bake the lightest pancakes ever. And the only pancakes with that good old south flavor. Fluffy golden feather light Aunt Jemima pancakes. Good for breakfast, lunch, or supper tonight. Mm-hmm. And now here is Sergeant Preston. Sergeant Preston reporting for duty, Inspector. Sergeant Youngman is in Whitehorse, gunning for some money claims, framed him into jail a couple of years ago. Who is the Inspector? Color name Neil Halton. I don't know who he's after, but I want you to get him and prevent a possible murder. Yes, sir. I'll go to Whitehorse at once. Neil Halton has almost reached the end of his long search. Can Sergeant Preston reach him and prevent murder? Be sure to hear this next exciting adventure. These radio dramas, a feature of Sergeant Preston of the Yukon Incorporated, are created by George W. Trendle, produced by Trendle Campbell Enterprises, directed by Fred Flower Day, and edited by Fran Stryker. The part of Sergeant Preston is played by Paul Sutton. Sergeant Preston of the Yukon is brought to you every Sunday at the same time by Quaker Oats, the giant of the cereal. This is J. Michael wishing you good-bye, good luck, and good health from Quaker Oats, the giant of the cereal. So long. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.