 The challenge of the Yukon. On King! On New Huskies! The Wonder Dog King, swiftest and strongest of Eskimo lead dog, blazes a trail through storm and snow for Sergeant Preston as he meets the challenge of the Yukon. Sergeant Preston was typical of a small band of Northwest non-beliefs 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 rules rampant. Sergeant Preston of the Northwest mounted stood with Jim Peters watching the passengers disembark from the riverboat Bon-En-Zabelle. To side him was his big lead dog King. Suddenly the hair on King's back rose and a low growl rumbled in his throat as a young couple came down the gang flank leading the biggest dog any one of the dog had ever seen. He was almost as big as a shuffling pony. His coat was a shaggy gray and he carried a huge head regally as if proud of the royal blood in his veins. Jim Peters finally got his breath. Holy jumping, Jehussaphat! When you look at that animal, what is it? That's the biggest dog I've ever seen in my life. Quiet, King. If you're as smart as I think you are, you'll make friends with that fella. Well, Sergeant, look at the jaws on him. One snap and he could bite a man's head off. What is he? An andale crossed with an elephant? Well, Jim, I believe he's an Irish wolf-hound. I've heard of them. This is the first one I've ever seen. Well, come on, let's get a closer look at him. All sides to his leash, Mary. That Monty has a big dog, too. Oh, the dog will make trouble. Welcome to White Horse. I'm Sergeant Preston of the Northwest mounted. How do you do? This is my wife. How do you do? We just arrived from Ireland. We'll be wanting some information if you don't mind helping us. Well, that's part of my job. This is Jim Peters. How do you wear it? How did he, King? Paul let them make friends if they will. He's a brave dog there, Sergeant. Poor Tyler can sell to make friends with any. Most of them take one look at him and run with their tail drooping. And father and gentle is a summer breeze and has never killed a margin of sleep. Look at him walking around stiff-legged. There we go, King. Now, see? The tails are beginning to wear. I knew King had good friends. Poor children. I'm done with them. He'd appreciate in how fine the other is. Your dog's an Irish wolf-hound, isn't he? That he is. He's one of the few pure-bred ones left. They're rare now, even in Ireland. Tyler's ancestors killed most of the wolves in the land. Are you planning to stay in White Horse? For a bit. Well, the town is packed, Jim. There ain't an inch of room in the hotel. Oh, Monsieur. Will he be sleeping out in the snow, do you? I know what you can do. I'm taking the trip for a couple of days. Take my cabin till you find something. Sure. And that's mighty nice of you. Oh, Shulk's ten nothings. I have my dog sled back here. I'll get it. We'll take you right over to Pete. Sergeant Preston had arrived to say goodbye to Tom and Mary the evening before they left for the North. Mary smiled as she watched King and Tara greet each other. Oh, sure. And it tickles me to watch these dogs when they meet, trying to be dignified in spite of their pleasure at sea and each other. I think we'd better put them out, Mary. They're rather large for this place. Good idea. They take up all the room. Come, Tara. You and King, outside for a while. All right, now. Where'd you go? Looks as if you're all ready for your trip, Tom. What we wanted to talk to you about, Sergeant, you've been very kind, helpfulness, and asking no questions. Mary and I have decided to tell you our secret. You've probably been wondering why we came to this country. Well, most people come for one reason. Gold. That's why we came. My grandfather took gold out of this land, but he was old and left his plane to come back to Ireland to die. He divided his wealth, and because I was the youngest and like adventures, he left the claim to me. I have the map here to show it to you. They tell me you know this country like the palm of your hand. Tell me, would this spot be hard to find? Let's see. I wonder how your grandfather ever found this. In a very isolated section. Do you think we could locate it? It won't be easy, Tom. I'd feel better about it if you'd had more experience in this country. Oh, don't worry about us, Sergeant. Tom and I have failed all over the roughest spots of Ireland. But this is far north. The cold up there will be terrific in a week or so. I'm going north in about three weeks if you're waiting. I'm afraid we'd slow you down. Mary and I will take it in easy stages. You may even catch up with us. Well, it's up to you, Tom. Now here's what I'd suggest you do. Two weeks of steady traveling carried Tom and Mary far north. Tara ran free after proving too big and too fast for the rest of the dog team. Then suddenly the terrible winter of the Yukon struck. It was heralded by a blizzard. We're going to have to stop. I'm afraid we've lost the trail. Oh, but there's no shelter, Tom. There's no place. There's no way of finding any. I don't know. I'm not from south. Oh, how are you, Doc? The way the way to this blizzard is over. The best thing to do is get into our sleeping bags and pray that by morning the storm is over and we're still alive. I'll help and know. Stay close to Mary, Tara. She'll hear from the wind. I won't unharness the dogs, Mary. Tom. Tom, wake up. Wake up. Yes. Yes, my darling. Are you all right? I'm all right, but Tom, the sled is gone. The dogs have run away. Gone? They can't be. Oh, Mary. They wind off while we sled. Oh, at least the wind has stopped. It's only to stop snowing, blinding whiteness like a thick veil. Tara could help you find them. Tom, you must go. Once all I surprise around that sled. But I can't leave you alone. I may not be able to find you. Oh, Tara, I'll bring you back to me. I'll be all right. Very well. I'll leave the rifle with you and the cartridges I have in my pocket. There all I have, the rest are in the slavage. Don't worry about me, my darling. Go now and just stay and stay with me. The hours drag by with no sign of Tom. The snow had stopped and the sun was reflected from the white ground with a blinding glare. Suddenly a gray shape that Mary thought was Tara appeared for a moment at the top of the slope. Tara! Horrible glare, I can't see. Lord be to heaven, it's the cry of a wolf. Mother of heaven, let my aim be straight. I can't see. I couldn't find my goggles when the sun came out. I couldn't find that blinding glare. It's done something to my eyes. It's no blind year. Oh, Tom, my darling. The dogs had upset the sled and chewed themselves loose. They were gone and our supplies were scattered, buried in snow. I searched for them for hours in that blinding light. That's what happened to my eyes. I brought some wood and found our axe. Tara led me back to you and I heard the shouts. The dawn of the sled, my dear. I'll put a scarf over your eyes. Let Tara loosen the harness. All right. Let me undo that strap, then. Mary, why did you shoot? Why? Oh, shoot, and I just imagined I saw something on the slope. Oh, here now. Let me bind this around your eyes. What's that? It sounded like a wolf crawling to a tree. Tara, come back! Tom, he's gone after me. Tara, no, no! Mary, we must let him go. That wolf will draw a pack and stay alive. Tara's our only hope. Yes, and it helps the blade hearted him. Can you see him, Mary? Tell me. Oh, Tara's gone over the top of the slope. There's the wolf. It's running across the plain. And now, Tara's... It won't last long, Mary. All the blood of Tara's ancestors is boiling in his veins. This is what he was born and bred for. Tara's coming to his home. Didn't last long, Tom. Tara's coming back. A feeling of wild exaltation burned in the breast of Tara the Wolfhound. Through all the years of gentle living, there had been a feeling deep inside him, a power that cried for expression. Now he knew what it was he had graved, the chase and the kill. Dawn found him pacing back and forth, a deep whine in his throat. What is it, Roy? Go on, sir. Go and hunt and sneak your fields. We're safe as long as it's light. He knows what I mean, Mary. He doesn't know. He's safe here. He's running like the wind itself. He'll cover 30 or 40 miles this day. Tom. Your eyes. Are they no better? They burn less, but... I still can't see. Sergeant Preston had headed north earlier than he had planned, prompted by a feeling of an anxiety about his new friends. He was about to stop his team and make camp on the fading daylight when King Barth shot him in the back. Carl, hurry up! What's the matter, boy? What is it, boy? It's a truck. Well, that's a tourist truck, but it's old. Nothing's happened. All right, boy, after it! On things! On your feet! Oh, there it is again, Tom. It's more words than one. They're answering each other. Oh, yes, that's how it's been. It's been dark for hours. Keep the fire bright, Mary. No way. Show me I could see. Thomas. I've used the last of the wood. Mary. Yes, darling? Give you the rifle hand. It's here, across my knees. And how many cartridges are left? Four, Tom. We must save two. I'd like fairly cold. I'd rush them with his axe if I could see. A moonlight reflected on the plane. Black shadows crossing it. Now there's another big one. It's Tara! Tara! Tara, boy! We can let the dog bite. Yes, that's one. It is a dog. If it's King, Sergeant Preston must be here. Oh, God. Thank you, Tom. The bright light of the fire played over the group around it, as Sergeant Preston bent over Tara. The huge dog lay with his head on Mary's lap, his heaving sides covered with blood, his own and his enemies. Six wolf carcasses made dark splotches in the snow that reflected the northern lights. Mary wept as she caressed the great dog. Oh, Tara, my darling. What a brave stand you made. How bad did he hurt me? His poor flanks are torn, and he's weary until death. But Sergeant, will he die? Tara is going to be all right, Mary. We'll give him time to get better, and I'll take you to your claim. We owe our lives to these dogs and you, Sergeant. I don't know how to thank you. I don't want any flanks, and neither do they. Oh, look! Try and just show us he's all right. Yes, King. Your friend is going to live. These copyrighted dramas originate in the studios of WXYZ Detroit, and all characters, names, places, and incidents used are fictitious. They are sent to you each week at the same time, and reach you from our transcription studios. Howl Neal speaking, this is the Michigan Radio Network.