 Now, as gunshots flicker across the wind, swept snow-covered beaches of the wild Northwest, cut challenge of the Yukon. It's Yukon King, swiftest and strongest lead dog of the Northwest, placing the trail for Sergeant Preston of the Northwest Bonnet police in his relentless pursuit of lawbreakers. And King Bonn was king. Gold, gold discovered in the Yukon, a stampede to the clondike in the wild race for riches. Back to the days of the gold rush, bringing you the adventures of Sergeant Preston and his wonder dog, Yukon King, as they meet the challenge of the Yukon. From the whaler Maribel pulled in close to the shattered hawk piled up on Sullivan's reef. Gordon, the boson, shouted to Captain Osborn, who was seated in the stern. It's the better girl from Frisco, Captain. I know her well. He must have piled up during that storm we had two weeks ago. Right, sir. Not a sign of life. He just looked through a band and it was drawn. There's a rope ladder hanging down and put aboard it. Aye, aye, sir. All you got, the men? See you ready to hold her off when we range alongside. A few minutes later, the captain was climbing up the frayed rope ladder that hung from the slanting deck. Gordon started to follow it. There we are, Gordon. Don't let that bokeh drag from now, sir. The captain was gone for nearly half an hour. And when he started down the rope ladder again, he was carrying a large metal body. There you are, sir. Jump off. Aye, aye, sir. Jump off, men. Keep her bow straight into those waves, landing. That box all you found on board, sir? Yes, it contains the ship's paper. Captain, let it be, honey. I'll make my report to the proper authorities and not you, Gordon. Aye, aye, sir. Excuse me, sir. Hold. I'll go wait until I take. Hold. When the longboard had returned to the Mar-Bell, the whaler hoisted full sail and headed north in front of a pair of breeze from the southwest. Richard Clarke, the first mate, reported to the captain's cabin. Who's there? Clark, sir. Who do you want? Permission to change our course, sir. What for? It's our duty to report the wreck of the Vanagrel, sir. If you have the ship's papers, we should put in the St. Michael and turn them over to the port authority. As long as you're on board, my ship, Mr. Clarke, I'll inform you what your duty is. Aye, aye, sir. We're looking for whales. And when we find them, we'll put in the port and not before. Well, that's understood. You may return to your port. Aye, aye, sir. It was two days later that Yank shut it down from the crow's nest. Is it whales, sir? Mores, Yank, you'll see a thing. It's a whale, all right. I can see him. You'll be determined silent change in our course, sir. Order is steady, Lammy. I'll have to report to the captain first. But when the mate reported to the captain... Now, Mr. Clarke, we will not change our course. Sir, it's a whale, I'm sure that... We will find our whales to the north. You will not change the course until you receive my command to do so. But, sir, it will be all, Mr. Clarke. Aye, aye, sir. There was no explanation for the captain's refusal to take after the whale. And the crew became extremely uneasy when other whales were sighted and they were passed by as well. The Maribel sail on to the north. Where was the ship heading? It had passed through the Bering Sea and it ended the Bering Straits. One night, Gordon knocked on the door of Mr. Clarke's cabin. Oh, man. Mr. Clarke, I'd like a word with you. Of course, Gordon. Well, sir, it's the crew. I'm speaking for the lot of them. They'd like to know what's got into the captain, sir. What do you mean? We came out after whales and he won't pay any attention to them. That is, he wouldn't when there was some chance of sighting them. Now, we're too far north and still we keep going. It's late in the year, Mr. Clarke. This is no time to be driving into the Arctic Ocean. Uh, I realize that, Gordon. Well, can't you do something about it? Well, I've talked with the captain. I'm sure I've said everything that's in the crew's mind. Well, sir... There's nothing to be done about it, but continue to obey orders. If the man could only be given some reason, sir. Well, I haven't won. My captain doesn't choose to give me one. That's all there is to it. Aye-aye, sir. Val, the wind changed. The Maribel port against the northeaster. The Maribel, the top of Alaska. And now at last, the course was changed. East by south. But the new direction only meant the ship was sailing on into the Arctic. The freezing wind from the north struck a chill in the heart of the men. Oh, I know what he's up to now. He's going to let the bloomin' eyes freeze us in. He's going to keep us prisoners here all winter long. He's gone crazy. That's what I say. How about enough of it, I have. What are you going to do about it? I'd do plenty if I had the power in your right arm, you picklommas. You're still that talk, Lanny? There'll be no mutiny on board this ship while I'm boasting. I'm not talking about mutiny. I'm talking about our noise piece, I'll murder it. Now, let's get rid of the captain. If Mr. Clark Siley's selling me boards, it's too late. Now, what do you say to that, Gordon? Nothing, Lanny. You're just talking. And I'm afraid that... I'm afraid it's too late now. And it was too late. The ice caught the Maribel in Mackenzie Bay. The elder in an iron grip, the roaring blizzards whitened her spars in her hull, until she seemed like a ship of stone, of crystal, shining like a jewel in the sunshine, but still a dead ship, a ship unable to move. That winter, Sergeant Preston was assigned to the Northwest Mounted Post on Hurford Island, the northern tip of the Yukon Territory on the shores of the Arctic Ocean. But the island is his base. Sergeant the Great Dog King made many patrols into the frozen wilderness north of the Arctic Circle. He returned from one of them late in January. He was checking over the last of his reports on the Eskimos with Inspector Bradford, when King started barking outside the barracks. King want to come in? Judging from the tone of that bark, I think he wants me to come out. He certainly keeps you busy. You should play him a salvager. What is it, King? He started to wait for the barracks. Then he stopped to see if his master was following him. All right, fella. Just as soon as I put on my cargo. A blizzard made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. But when the sergeant had joined King, the dog led him with unerring instinct. First to the shore of the island, and then for a quarter of a mile out into the white, trackless waste of the frozen ocean. Straight to a snow-covered mouth. A man, King. A big man. The sergeant brushed the snow aside and listened for a heartbeat. The man was still alive. It was Gordon, the bosom of the Maribel, a big man. But the sergeant lifted him easily and carried him back to the barracks. There he was made to swallow some brandy. He was undressed and put to bed. And the frost-bitten portions of his hands and feet and face were treated. But it was late that evening before the sergeant and the inspector could be sure they had defeated death. A little while, sir. Yes, he's much better. You saved another life, King. You found no identification? Nothing, sir. That's my clothing. He must be a sailor of some ships. It's ice-bound in the Arctic. Inspector, he's opening his eyes. Yes. Did I make it? You're at the Northwest noted police post on Hurford Island. Good. Icebound? Yes. That's nearly 100 miles. You came all that way on foot? Am I... Am I the first? You mean are you the first member of your crew to reach here? Yes. Are there others who started out with you? No. Different times. The first were Jones. The day shot the caribou and the captain wouldn't let the crew eat it. Put the meat with his stores. He went on to left that night. He was the first. And none of them, none of them. Take them easy, Gordon. Easy. He drove them to it. Cut rations. Four gigs. No, no, no. That's enough. Don't try to talk anymore. Here's the soup. Always his head a little, Inspector. See if you can get him to take something. Come on, Gordon. Try to swallow this. The bosson was fed. And immediately afterward he fell into a deep sleep. The sergeant and the inspector talked quietly as they watched him. Tell me the case, Inspector. You've just come in. The dogs are fresh. Of course, King never tires, do you, boy? What about yourself? I'd like to go, sir. I'd like to find out what could drive men to face a hundred miles of the Arctic Ocean in the dead of winter. Well, you're the man for the job. But you'd better wait until Gordon wakes up and can give you more information. I'll get my supplies ready, sir. The sergeant went to work. At eight o'clock the next morning he was ready to start. And Gordon described the position of the ship as well as he could. Then? You won't find many of them left. Those who died and those who tried to make it here. They were just the captain and Mr. Clark and Limey and Yank when I left. Maybe you'll find only the captain. I warn you, Sergeant. Something's happened to him. Something's gone wrong. We'll find out, Gordon. And we'll do our best to help your friends. One thing. It was eight o'clock in the morning but it would still be night in the Arctic for another three hours. And as King took his place at the head of the team and the sergeant stepped on the running board of the sled the only light came from the stars and the northern lights. The blizzard was over and yet the trackless miles ahead were beset with danger and death. The sergeant gave the command to hit the trail. One thing! We'll continue our story in just a moment. Now to continue our story. Even with King breaking the trail it took the sergeant nearly three days to reach Point Marken and still another before he saw the icebound ship. It was midnight. The Aurora had left the sky to the cold and distant stars. There was no wind and the silence was intense. The sergeant didn't want to announce his coming to the man on board the ship so he called out a noise. A growl from King was enough enough once during the last half mile that the dogs barked. When the sergeant stepped on the break King needed no command to stop. Good boy King, no one's heard us. I'll unharness the team and feed them and see about getting aboard. Even as the team was fed King maintained his discipline and refused to let them make a sound. They ate their ration of frozen fish but King stayed by his master's side as he circled the ship. What a talk to them before I talk to the captain. A rope ladder hanging down from the deck. Looks like you'll have to stay here. Don't you like the idea boy? Well, I'm psyched on. I might be able to carry you up. Let's try it. Oh, you're a happy big king. Let's go. With King under one arm the sergeant climbed the ice-crusted rope ladder to the deck. When the forward hatch was reached the molly found it closed and impossible to open. He knocked on it. Is that you, Captain Ardbun? Sergeant Preston, Northwest Mounted Police. Oh, West Mounted. Oh, Blimey, what a great majesty zone. So you got with you, Wolf? My leap dog, mind if he comes down with me? Who's that hatch, Limey? What are you, sir? Sergeant, you're both as welcome as the flowers in life. How do you come to be here? Don't tell me one of the boys who's that with you, Limey? Sergeant Preston of the Northwest Mounted Police, Mr. Clark. Gordon might've derped early. Oh, it's good news. I'm glad to see you, Sergeant. Have you talked with the captain? No, to tell the truth, Mr. Clark. I wanted to talk to the surviving members of the crew first. I didn't expect to find the first mate and the folks. I've been living here for two months, Sergeant. Huh? How does that happen? Well, the captain had all the ships' stores moved into my cabin. It was next to his. Close. So did he keep an eye on him. That was plenty of room here, but... He's one of us, Mr. Clark, is, and no matter what Gordon says, he can talk free and easy with him, Sergeant. I'm glad of that. I wonder what's happened to this ship? There's been a curse lied on it. And the curse is nigh, Miss Captain Osburn. I'd like a few more details, Mr. Clark. Gordon must've told you a great deal. Yes. You passed by every whale you sighted. You kept sailing north, long after you should've turned south. Captain's orders. And after the ice closed in, the harsh treatment and half rations made one man after another dessert. Bob and Dodd, Sergeant. They're buried out there. I see. They were six who deserted. Couldn't you have stopped them? Not unless I put them in irons. Eleven, Depp. Not Gordon, bless him. And perhaps not some of the others. There were a number of Eskimo villages on the shores of the bay, and they may have found shelter there. We'll find out. Now, uh, what about Yank? Gordon said he was still here. He is in his bunk. For blood. Is he? It has been. Steve was down. We only had some proper fully beef and odd tack. You can't expect some man to get well on that, Sergeant. There's nothing else on board? Not that the captain will give us. What about the caribou Jones shot? He probably ate all that himself. Can goods, mister? I haven't seen a store since they were moved into my cabin. Well, I'll see them. Gordon says the captain's crazy. What do you think, Mr. Clark? It's perfectly rational. Well, something's wrong. He's accountable for everything that's happened on this voyage. You must realize you'll have to answer to the owners and aboard an inquiry. If he kills us all often, there's no one to testify against him. He can say there was a mutiny. No matter what he says, it'll be through. He'll never get another command. Why should he throw away his career for what? I won't say crazy, Sergeant. There's something wrong. And has been, Mr. Clark. Ever since he won aboard the wreck of the banner girl and pinched that box of pipers. Box of pipers? Banner girl, like John Sullivan's reef. The captain won aboard and came off of the box. He said it contained a ship's pipers. Have you seen them, Mr. Clark? No. I told them they should be delivered at the first port we could make. But I was overruled. I'm interested. I'm ready to talk with the captain now. You come with me? Be glad to. You'd better stay here, King. Well, that's right. You stay here and keep me company. I angst asleep. He won't need anything for a while, I mean. Aye, aye, sir. And Sergeant? Yes, why me? Give it to him. Go on. The Sergeant and Mr. Clark climbed the hatchway to the deck and made their way aft. A few moments later, the Sergeant was meeting Captain Osborne. His reception was unfriendly. What do you mean, sir, coming aboard this ship without permission? I have business with you, Captain. Then stay and be done with it quickly. You're anchored in Mackenzie Bay. And are therefore subject to the police regulations of the Northwest Territory. What's that? Surely you'll know where you are. We're in the Arctic Ocean. Consult your charge, Captain. If your navigation's been accurate, you'll find you're in Mackenzie Bay. Whatever. I explained. None of your laws have been broken. I've been informed you have property in your possession that doesn't belong to you. That isn't true. The ship's papers of the banner girl, Captain. You've been talking, Mr. Clark, eh? I've repeated your own statement, sir. I'll take charge of the papers now, Captain. There are none. And, Captain, I repeat, there are none. Here is a box I took from the banner girl. When I inspected it closely, I found that the papers it contained were nothing but worthless by Miranda. I had disposed of the trash and I'm using the box now for my own personal correspondence. You can see it here, sir, outside. Yes, I shall report your action. Yes, you wish. Now then, if that's all... It isn't. The Northwest Nondid Police have authorized customs officials in this territory. I want to look at your cargo. We have no cargo. I have no stores. Nice stores. Yes, Captain. You won't find many. Mr. Clark can show you where the store room is. I know where it is. May I have the key to the next cabin? Certainly not. You refuse to submit to customs and... There's nothing deep in the next cabin. I'll decide that for myself. You're going to be obstinate. All right. I'll unlock the door for you, Kimmelon. Better bring the lamp, Mr. Clark. Right, Sergeant. Here's the lamp, Sergeant. You can see there's nothing contraband in here. It's frozen lead, isn't it? Yes. And goods. White flour. Potatoes. You could use some of this to feed that sick man the folks who couldn't do, Mr. Clark. I most certainly could, Sergeant. You're allowing to take what he needs, won't you, Captain? No, I won't. I will at least final concerning the distribution of stores on this ship, and I say... Just a moment, Captain. No one argues the fact that you control the stores. But because of that, you're responsible for the lives of the men on board. You're responsible for Yank's life. If he dies and is proved that you had the means to prevent his death, a jury might call it negligent homicide. That's really ridiculous. I'm going to stay here until Yank recovers or dies. I'm going to observe the treatment he receives. If he dies, I shall consider it my duty to place you... Mr. Clark. Yes, sir. Take what you need for the sick man. From now on, the responsibility for his care is yours. Is that understood? Yes, sir. Are you satisfied, Sergeant? For the time being, then I have a question. How did you happen to come here? Gordon made it to Hurford, Ireland. It seemed that help was needed. As she... That's all I wanted to know. When you've finished in here, Mr. Clark, return the key to me. By the time the Sergeant and Mr. Clark returned to the folks who were fresh supplies, King was finding the heat from the cherry red stove too much for him, and the Sergeant let him out on deck. He burrowed in the drifting snow, but although he was tired, he didn't sleep. There was something about this strange, silent ship that made him uneasy, and when he saw a man come up on deck toward the stern of the ship, he growled in his throat. There was something furtive in the man's actions, and even if he could have known what the man was thinking, King's sense of danger couldn't have been more acute. The Captain leaned over the railing and stared at the sled and sleeping dogs below him. He observed no chance to go to these other three, with a body watching over them. Gordon's already safe. Safe to testify I took the box from the banner here. He doesn't know what was in it, but the owner is there. There's only one way to keep all that money for myself. Escape and disappear. And there's only one way to escape. That dog team down there, the cuppers, they can make it to Acre Vic, get fresh dogs and brats out, wait until the mutt and the others are sleeping. Try to harness that team that'll break, and wake the muttie up unless, unless you can't wake up. Yeah, it's the only way. Kill them all. The Captain descended to his cabin. And underneath the mattress of his bunk, he took a money belt. By the light of the lamp, he counted the yellow back bills it contained. $50,000. And mine, if I can only get away. But Captain waited. The new thought came to him. Before I leave, they'll think I died too. He started with a new name, a new name at $50,000. $50,000. Three hours passed. The Captain checked his revolver and climbed to the deck. He leaned over the railing and made sure there was no light shining from the folksal porthole. The time had come. He started silently toward the bow of the ship. The King almost completely buried in the snow as watching. He could see the glint of metal in the man's hand, and he knew that he was carrying a gun, the weapon that hurt his ears and filled his nostrils with an accurate fighting sting, the weapon that could produce red-hot pain, an old wound in his shoulder throbbed and heightened his sense of danger. The man was almost on top of him. He sprang to his feet, blocking the pan. The dog hit him out of my way, you what? Here's one way to take care of you. The Captain leveled the gun and fired. The King had leaped aside behind the shell of the hatchway. Captain fired again. Shot the splintered wood. By now the dogs were awake and barking. Sergeant Preston came charging up the hatchway. The Captain whirled and fired at him. The shot went wild. But the Sergeant fired and caught the Captain in his arm. He turned and ran. First part of his plan had failed. But in his twisted brain, there still seemed a chance of success. To carry out the second part of his plan, to fire the ship. He put his down the companion way toward his cabin and wrenched open the door. The oil lamp still lighted and was on the table. The Captain grabbed it and smashed it to the floor. Flame shot up. The Captain turned around but King was walking the door. No, no. Nothing's going to stop me. With his left hand holding a gun he fired. Once more the bullet missed its mark. The Captain's strength was gone. The gun slipped in his fingers and he sank to the floor, clutching his right arm. A second later the Captain, Sergeant Clark and Limey were in the cabin, stabbing out the blade. Half an hour later, the Captain was lying in his own bunk. His arms set and bandaged sleeping under the influence of a sedative. But his delirious talk and the bulging money belt had revealed the whole story. He wanted the whole 50,000 for himself. He didn't care how many lives he sacrificed to get it. He hoped it all deserved to die. We might have if it hadn't been for you, Sergeant. If it weren't for Gordon, I wouldn't be here. And if it weren't for King, none of us would be alive. That's right, Sergeant. The edge wasn't bolted. The Captain could have crept down the folksaw without a sound. The King was on guard. Courage, brains. It's a wonderful dog. You've proved yourself again, King. It's thanks to you, boy, this case is closed. W. Trendall, directed by Fred Flower Day and supervised by Charles D. Livingston. The part of Sergeant Preston is played by Paul Sutton. This is J. Michael wishing you good-bye, good luck and good health. So long.