 The Challenge of the Yukon! 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. Hankins City was a crowded, noisy, hurriedly constructed settlement of sprawling frame buildings to house the variegated population that had surged to the great North country. A land that held in its icy grasp riches to quicken the imagination of any man who worshipped wealth. Saloons and cafes were always full and until it closed the general store and trading post was also full crowded with men who exchanged news while they bought supplies. In a small office in back of the general store Clint Marsh stood talking to a heavy set beady-eyed man who turned away from a large desk and the ledgers he'd been working on. Listen, Mort, maybe you think I got cold feet and I'm backing out on you. But that ain't why I'm telling you this. It's on the level. Go on, finish what you were saying, and then I'll start talking. We've been getting along pretty good, the two of us. So far we're in the clear, and that's where I'm staying. Maybe you've got a hankering to get your neck stretched, but not me. Not all you got to say. That's all, except that if you pull this job tonight with a red coat in town you're pulling it alone, see? Oh, no. I'm pulling the job tonight, all right, but I'm not pulling it alone. Now you listen to me. We've been in the clear all this time, not because of you, but because of me. Yeah, sure. Nobody had ever think that Mort Murdock was tied up with the robberies, but they might... Like nothing. I've been smart enough to keep my tracks covered. And that's the way they're going to stay. You've done something you can't beat when you got a Mountie sitting in on a deal, Mort. I'm telling you, I know. Oh, trouble with you as a side of that red coat makes you lose what little sense you got. So Preston's in town. He's a smart Mountie, huh? Always gets his man, they say. He ain't missed on any count ever. Remember that? Well, that's because of many was afterward dumber than he was. I'm smarter than he is, Clint. And that scarlet coat doesn't scare me one bit. Well, I'll make a monkey out of him. And you better stick around and watch me do it if you know what's good for you. Now, wait a minute. I don't want to have... You heard what I said. We'll work this just the same way we work the other ones. I know this town. I know the trails. Why, we'll pull a job right under his nose. And then watch him while he knocks his head against a brick wall trying to figure it out. Well, you know where to wait for me. Now clear out of here and see that you're ready. It was hours later. At an isolated stretch of land, one man stood as if waiting. His dog team standing as if they, too, were hesitating only for the command to mush. High above the snow-covered slope where they stood, the trail skirted a hillside, and it was toward this trail that the man looked. Here he comes now. Man came into sight on the trail, his dog's calling forth every bit of pulling power in obedience to his command. Mush, you hussy! Mush! He looked from the ribbon of trail, stretching before him to where the dog team waited far below. Then, bracing himself momentarily, he gave one last command. Faster, you muts! Mush! And then he jumped, rolling, turning, and sliding in the soft blanket of snow until he reached the bottom of the slope. I thought you'd never get here. I made it all right. Those dogs of yours ready? Well, then, let's get back to town. I got the cash and some dust in my mackinac. What about Preston? That mouty's gonna be mighty surprised when he finds his trail in a dog team without a driver. Mush, you huskies! Mush! A short time after the two men started back to town, Sergeant Preston, with the great dog king leading his team, approached and passed that point on the trail from where Mort Murdock had jumped to roll down the slope and meet his confederate. The tracks cut in the snow by Murdock's sled were sharp and clear. It was an easy task to follow them. And with king setting a fast pace for his dogs, the policemen soon sighted the driverless team still running along the trail. That's the sled, all right. Question is, what happened to the man who was driving it? Un-king! Un-you-mal-mutes! Where'd you stop those dogs? You'll find anything on it, little thing, fella. Not even carrying a pack. Well, we'll search the trail. Somewhere between here and town, our men left the sled. It might have been an accident. Someone may have stopped him. If something odd about this, it's too pat. Almost as if it had been planned. Come on, boy. We'll start back. It was late the next day when Sergeant Preston walked into Murdock's trading post in Hankin City. A group of men in the store turned to question them out as he strode toward them. Hi there, Sergeant. Hello, Les. How are you? Fine. You made a following-size murder? Well, I didn't get him. No, well, look, and Sergeant... No, it isn't a question of luck, Mort. He gave us a slip along the trail. I backtracked, but it was too dark to be able to tell clearly just where he left his sled. I went back this morning. Any footprints? Nope. I don't know. So I had a lot of American paper money in his cabin. Some dust, too. Seems like that was what he was murdered for. He was murdered by somebody in town. I don't know. You ought to know better than to ask questions, Mort. The Sergeant's got a right to keep what he thinks under his hat. Well, whoever'd done it was sure crazy to take a chance when there's a mountain in town. That's my opinion. Yeah, you're right. Well, I don't envy him, Sergeant. They say you fellas always get your man. Well, I guess it's about time to close up the post. See you over at the saloon later, boys. Several hours passed, and Sergeant Preston walked along Hankin City's main street with King following close at his heels. The town was shrouded in darkness, penetrated at intervals by the light of oil lamps spilling from windows to the snow. Suddenly, the mountain paused. Beyond him was the oblong frame building that served as a bank. Yes, fellow, I see him. Somebody's just come out of there, and he's heading for that sled. Come on, King. A few minutes later, King, quick to sense the excitement of a chase, spurred Preston's dogs on, his teeth nipping the ears of any that slowed the team. It was because of his efforts that the policemen cited the driverless pack of dogs a short distance beyond the point where Mort Murdock had jumped from the trail, once again to meet his partner as he'd done before. This time, Preston took his dogs back at a walk, his eyes and King scanning the trail in front of them. It's twice it's happened. It's part of a plan. Either there's a hideout somewhere along here, or someone was waiting for him. The mountain walks slowly along the trail. It was a little better than a lead shewn in the hillside, with the light of the moon supplying illumination. As his master walked dangerously near the edge of the trail, the great dog placed the weight of his body against the man as if to warn him. Preston turned, and the snow beneath the dog's feet gave way. Almost unconsciously, the man reached to grab King's collar. It was the action that caused him, too, to plunge down. Rolling in the swans' down blight of snow to the bottom of the slope. You all right, fella? Yes, you warned me, didn't you, boy? Look what you got for your trouble. Well, get back up to the trail and keep looking till we... these tracks here. Somebody was standing here with the dog team, standing for quite a while, I'd say. It's possible to roll down that slope without being hurt. It must... So that's it, boy. Well... Sergeant Preston returned to Hankins City an hour later, after having followed the tracks of the mysterious sled to the limits of the town where they merged with others, making it impossible to mark them. The next day he was thoughtful and alert, spending his time carefully patrolling the town. Mort Murdock knew this as he talked to Clint Marsh in the back room of the trading post. I told you we'd make a monkey out of the Mount E. We have. The whole town's talking about the mystery robber. Everybody's asking Preston questions, and he just wishes he had the answers. Yeah, you were right. I never thought I'd live to see anybody get the best of them red coats. Well, you have. What's more, if it wasn't for that bring your prisoner in alive rule that they've got, he could have nailed me last night. Yeah, you're lucky he didn't. Yeah, I know what I'm doing. Now we wait till after saloon closes tonight, Clint. You'll be at the usual place. And me, I'm gonna walk out of there with as much dust as I can carry. Preston's guessing now, but he'll be talking to himself after three straight getaways in a row. It was long after midnight, and the Mount E who walked quietly through the streets of Hankins City had begun to think he'd waited in vain when he heard a distant gunshot. He was in time to see Mort Murdoch's dark figure running to his sled. Come on, King, we get the dogs up. Unless I'm mistaken, another robbery and perhaps another murder's been committed. And this time, we're going to upset some plans. Thirty minutes later, a dog team raced along the narrow trail high above the snow-covered slope. Mursh, you huskies, Mursh! You heard the pokes. Now, to matter, Clint, getting so you won't stay in sight, you can't be seen from the trail. Come on, get those muts up, will ya? I want to get out of here before Preston comes by. Didn't make good enough time to get here before I came by. What? What? So you're the man who's responsible for three robberies and a murder, and maybe two after that gunshot in a saloon tonight? Wait a minute, how? Your friend here is tied up. This gun that's also pointing your way, Murdoch, caused him to be a little more quiet than usual. I couldn't help it, Mort. I was waiting here for ya when he come up and took me by surprise. There was nothing I could do, I tell ya. Thanks to King, I made better time than you did, Murdoch. Now you're both going back to town. I don't have to tell you what'll be waiting for you when you get there. Thanks to you and your smart ideas, Mort, about making a monkey out of Preston or in this jam. Who is gonna have who, guess? Yeah. Yeah, you did a fine job. You were so much smarter than everybody else. Shut up, will ya? Never mind, Murdoch. He doesn't have much time to talk, and neither do you. You held a pretty good hand, but you overplayed it. I get moving, both of you. Yes, fella. The case is closed. These copyrighted dramas originate in the studios of WXYZ Detroit. All characters, names, places, and incidents used are fictitious. They are sent to you each week at this same time.