 Now, as gunshots echo across a windswept snow-covered reaches of the wild north-west, Quaker Oats, the giant of the Syrios, presents Sergeant Preston of the Yukon. It's Yukon King, swift as the strongest lead dog of the north-west, blazing the trail for Sergeant Preston of the north-west mounted police in his relentless pursuit of lawbreakers. On 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. Old sourdough Jim McAllister was a very sick man, and he knew it. He worked many streams during his three years in the Yukon, and had panned enough gold to send back to his wife and daughter in estates, so that they had not been at want. But now, on the threshold of his first great strike, the feeling of doom was upon him. He had hit Patert, a seemingly endless vein of gold that promised fortune untold, but his sickness made all that seem dim. McAllister entered the canvas tent where he kept all his belongings. With paper and pencil, he sat down and began to write and draw laboriously. Jim McAllister almost collapsed as a new outburst of coughing convulsed him. When he'd recovered, the desire to get away from his diggings and to reach the town of Dawson became paramount at his mind. He placed the unfinished letter in an envelope and placed it unsealed in a large wallet which he carried in the pocket of his pocket. Hours later, miles from his starting point, and now on the main trail to Dawson, Jim McAllister collapsed. Clay Barnum and Joe Carter, after a summer and autumn of ill fortune in the Goldfields, were heading south to Dawson when they saw through the driving snow a blur of off-color against the whiteness. They stopped their sled a short distance in the spot where Jim McAllister lay sprawled in the snow beside his wailing dogs. Clay Barnum bent over the old man. He felt his head, his pulse, and placed his hand inside the man's parka over his heart. Then Barnum stood around. Hey, Jim McAllister! He's dead. Stabbed a shot. I don't think so. Will I see? Now there's no signs of either. What made you think of that? The con of the word that's been around lately. The Callister struck it rich someplace. If he did, nobody knows where. He never filed a claim any new diggings. If that may be somebody killed him and took his... Hey, Joe. He seemed to be heading for Dawson. Maybe he had gold with him. What are you waiting for? Don't stand there. Let's go through his sled and close and see. All right. Barnum, going through McAllister's pockets, came upon the sourdough's wallets. At the same moment that Carter found a bag of gold dust and nuggets in the sled. Carter jumped to his feet triumphantly. Hey, look. A folk full of gold. A lot of them. What do you got there? It's only a wallet. I see what's in it. I'm going to... Hey, there's an envelope with a letter in it. It's to the... Let me see. The Mrs. James McAllister. Oh, his wife, huh? I wonder what he wrote to her about. Maybe you... Hey, what's the matter? What are you whistling like that for? Hey, look, and a wallet. A picture of that girl. She's a lula, isn't she? Yeah. Hey, look closer to him. Dog gone, Clay. You know what? This must be McAllister's daughter. Well, sure it is. Can't you see? It's signed Marion. That says the daddy with all my love. Intent of the picture in the wallet. Both men neglected to hear the approaching sled and dog team until it loomed out of the storm and came to a stop. Hey, wait. Clay, it's money. Quick. Can you see that bag of gold sticking in your pocket? Yeah, yeah. Easy, King. Easy, boy. Oh, hello. Oh, it's you, Sergeant Preston. Hello, Bonham. Carter. What have we here? Jim McAllister, Sergeant. We just came upon him. He's dead. McAllister, dead? Hello, brother. Yeah, he was a nice old guy. He didn't like people that much. That wallet in your hand and that letter, are they yours, Bonham? The wallet... Who are these? No, no, they're... Well, they were McAllisters. We were just looking through his stuff, just wondering if they're... Well, you know. Yeah, certainly, I know. Let me have them, please. The wallet? And the letter. The letter belonged to McAllister, too? Oh, yeah, yeah, it's to his wife. It wasn't sealed, so we were going to seal it. If the letter was addressed to his wife, it wasn't meant for us to read. So I'll seal it now and send it to her when I arrive in Dawson. We'll continue our adventure in just a moment. Right now, I want to ask you, mothers and dads, a question. Do you know why millions of folks over 35 years of age return to the breakfast of their youth? Well, Quaker Oats supplies more life-sustaining protein to help keep you energetic and alert than any other of 14 leading cereals. Yes, a leading state university made this amazing test on 14 nationally known cereals, both hot and cold of all shapes and kinds. And in the report published in Food Research, a nationally known scientific journal, Quaker Oats is first in life-giving protein. And remember, for all its energy and stamina value, a breakfast of Quaker Oats milk and sugar is only 218 calories. So mothers and dads, for youthful vitality over 35, for that happy chipper feeling that goes with good nutrition, start eating creamy, delicious, hot Quaker Oats every morning. It costs less nopenious serving and cooks in only two and a half minutes. Tomorrow, get a package of Quaker Oats or Mother's Oats, which are the same. Now to continue. Assisted by Barnum and Carter, Sergeant Preston brought the body of Jim McAllister into the town of Dawson, also his dogs and sled. After a session of questions for official records, the two men who found the body were permitted to go, death having been certified as being due to natural causes. Away from the Mountie headquarters, Carter chuckled. Hey Clay, Preston and the other money didn't even ask about the poke we took from McAllister. They didn't even suspect we hooked it. Hey, keep your voice down. Huh? The reason they didn't suspect was because we had a few more bags of dust on the sled. You didn't see those. So what? If I did, we probably wouldn't have got away with stealing them. They'd expect to find gold on McAllister. They know we didn't make a strike. Gotta be glad we have this. You know, Clay, I, uh, wish I had a flip that girl's picture out of McAllister's wallet. Why? Oh, she was nice. Forget what she looked like, believe me. Hey, here's a cafe. Let's go in, huh? At Northwest Mounted Police Headquarters, Sergeant Preston wrote a letter. When he'd finished it, he rafted around the letter McAllister had written to his wife and placed both in a large official envelope. Then he sealed the envelope, rose from his chair and walked to where Constable Harris had arranged the dead man's effect. There you are, Harris. This explains everything to Mrs. McAllister. Send it along with his things. Will you please? Sure thing, Sergeant. Back in the United States, when they received Jim McAllister's personal belongings together with a notification of his death, his wife and his lovely daughter, 20-year-old Marion, were heartbroken. But after a week, when there seemed to be no more tears that could be shed, the mother and daughter read Jim's last letter once more. Oh, it must have been terrible the life he was forced to lead up there. Just think of it, Marion. He says that out of all the people he'd met, there wasn't one he'd trust. Except whoever it was he wanted to get in touch with, and Casey died. Yes. The chances are we'll never know who that was. Mother, it could be that Sergeant Preston. That was such a sweet and pathetic letter he wrote. He said he knew Dad well and that he admired him. But he didn't say that he knew where your father's mind was. One he writes about in this letter. No one knew except Dad. And now us? We still don't know. All we have is this map, Jim Drew. I can make head a tail of it. There are some places that seem plain enough to me on that map. There's Dawson. Here's Forty Mile. These are the mountains, and in here some place is the mine. Yes, some place. Are you able to make it all? No, but perhaps Sergeant Preston will help me. Sergeant Preston? You mean the man who wrote this from Dawson? Yes. I'm going to Dawson City, ma'am. Now just a moment, Marion. You know what your father says here? About not telling a single soul with a mine is located. And that means anyone? No, mother, I'll never tell anyone what's on this map. I'll memorize it and keep it in my mind all the time. And when I get to Dawson City, I'll go see Sergeant Preston at once. Marion McAllister arrived in Skagway about a month later. Then went by barge and dogs led to Dawson City. Now teaming with men back from the Goldfield for the winter. She went at once to a hotel, registered, and then after changing clothes, set out for Northwest Mounted Police Headquarters. She did not see Clay Barnum and Joe Carter in front of the cafe, concentrating on her. Clay? Am I seeing things or is that a ghost? A ghost. Joe, that's an angel. I never forget the face of an angel. Ah, not me, neither. Clay, that's a girl I'll write the one in a picture. Yeah, Marion McAllister. Joe. Yeah? Do you have any ideas what it means for being in Dawson City like this? Sure. It means she's here after the mine, her old man, Farron. Farron, but didn't register. We checked again on that last week. Wherever it was, he staked out his claim. He never put down a record. You think maybe she knows? It was that letter to his wife, you remember? Yes, I remember. Hey, Joe, look, she's heading for Mounted Headquarters. Yeah, and Preston's there, too. He and Harris have those two fellas that did the murder in a 40 mile. Yeah, take them down to Whitehorse. Joe, come on. Where are you going? Headquarters where the girls are going in. We'll go in and say we want to get worn. See if we can't learn something worthwhile. In the rear room of Headquarters, Sergeant Preston tested the handcuffs of the two murderers he had captured and was now taking to Fort Selkirk for transfer to other offices. He was about to take them from the cell when Constable Harris entered from the outer office. Sergeant, hold up a bit, eh? What's wrong, Constable? Nothing, Sergeant. There's a young lady out front who insists on seeing you. She came all the way from the States for the privilege. Oh, who is she? Marion McAllister. Oh, Jim, the daughter. Take over a while, eh? I'll not be long. All right, Sergeant. When Sergeant Preston entered the outer office, the beautiful Marion McAllister looked up and introduced herself. Oh, hello. You must be Sergeant Preston. I'm Marion McAllister. How do you do? Constable said, King is your dog. Wonderful. You're my friend, aren't you, Jim? He seldom makes friends so easily. It's the only introduction you need. I'm glad. Constable Harris tells me you came all the way from the States to talk with me. That's right. It's about the letter you forwarded to mother after my father died. There were a glance at the two men who stood in the corner, warming their hands over the stove. I'd like to be sure no one over here is as well I tell you about it. Well, uh, come into the next room. I don't think we'll be interrupted. All right. The two men at the stove watched from the corner of their eyes as Preston and the girl entered the next room. The sergeant pushed the door closed behind him, but not tightly. King, following his master and the friendly girl, pushed the door open wide enough to enter. The door remained ajar. Clay Barnum and Joe Carter exchanged glances, then inched closer to the door so that they could hear Preston and Marion McAllister inside. Preston, studying a piece of paper the girl had given him, was talking. It's not square enough up to a point. I'd say the mine was a few miles this side of 40 miles, probably near Rocky Creek. No wonder none of the prospectors had been able to locate the place an area supposed to be panned out. No one's mined there all summer. I'd like to try and locate that mine, sergeant. I'm sure it'll be easy with this map. Not as easy as you think, Miss McAllister. First of all, you'll not be allowed to go into the goldfield. What? The order holds for all women. It's a matter of fact we're discouraging men from going too. Those who've been here a few years wouldn't think of taking to the trail and the weather we're having. You're going to turn down my request permission to look for my father's mine so I might register it? Definitely. Perhaps there is a law that would keep me from seeking my father's mine, but there's justice too. Which we of the Northwest Mounted Police try to ensure. If that's the case, then why not help me? I didn't say I wouldn't help you if I can. I was merely discouraging any plan you might have that involved your leaving Dawson and heading North. Then you will do something? I'll try, but only after I return from Selkirk and delivering to prisoners and... The constable told me about that. I'll wait, Sergeant, but how soon will it be before you return here from Selkirk? I should be back within a week. That's not long. Not after the journey I've made to get here. Then I'll see you on my return. I'll do everything possible to assist you, Miss McAllister. If I can't do it personally, I'll find men who will. Men that even your father would trust. So, now if you'll pardon me, I'll get started. A few hours after Sergeant Preston had left for Fort Selkirk with his prisoners, Clay Barnum and Joe Carter sat at a corner table in the cafe talking. They had heard the greatest part of the conversation between Preston and Marion McAllister, and a plan had formed in their minds. The details were complete now, and the men prepared to act. Marion McAllister was greatly surprised next day when a clean-shaven and prepossessing young man came to her hotel room and introduced himself as a deputy from Sergeant Preston. My partner and I are always on special duty, never in uniform. That's why the sergeant told us to help you. I know he told you women are not... Carter recalling the pertinent parts of the conversation he'd overheard between the girl and Preston gave a great degree of authority to what he said. He outlined the supposed plans of Preston and Atted. And because it's not in strict accordance with the written law, we'll have to sneak out of town after it's dark. With me dressed in men's clothes, you said? That's right, Miss. You couldn't very well wear any other kind in the weather we'll run into. I still don't understand. Sergeant Preston was so positive when he told me yesterday that I'd not be allowed to go on the search. Well, he said the law... The law bows before a beautiful woman, Miss McAllister. And don't forget yesterday's not today. Sergeant Preston didn't realize that my partner and I would be in Dawson so soon. You'll be ready this evening, then? Yes. About 11. I'll have my clothes bought by then. Oh, but Mr. Carter... Yes? I'm going to fulfill my father's last wishes. I'll keep the map. And only I shall give the instructions where to go, up to a point. Oh, we understand, Miss. That's all right with us. That night, when the only sounds in Dawson's city were heard in the rowdy cafes, Mary Ann McAllister, bundle in men's clothes, topped by a parker, started out on the trail at Headed North. Mush! Mush! Mush! The trio had been on the trail four days. The two crooks bided their time, showing great solicitude for the young woman at all times and protecting her whenever possible from the onslaughts of snow and wind. They led her to the spot where her father had been found dead, though never telling her it was they who had found him. Mary Ann was heartened by their knowledge of the country. It's almost as if you were reading the map I have. My judge rightly will turn off somewhere a few miles north of here. Probably towards Ruckett Creek. Well, that's right. You knew that? Well, your father did a lot of prospecting around there, Miss. We'd see him off. This man is... You might tell us where it is exactly. We must be near there now. It'll help us get you there if we know. I don't know where it is exactly. Didn't Sergeant Preston tell you that Daddy's map was blurred and not too detailed? Yes, but... Well, we thought... Oh, that I was holding out on him because of what Daddy said? I wasn't. I assure you. Yeah, sure. Well, we better get going. Mush! Mush there! Mush there! That night, as Mary Ann McAllister lay inside her canvas tent wrapped in blankets in her pocket, the sound of whispers awakened her from her sleep. There was a tone about them that seemed to set off an alarm in her brain. She bent forward with her ear to the tent flap and listened. Joe Carter and Clay Bonham were ready to search Mary Ann McAllister's sled. I tell you, the mine has to be somewhere around here. I heard what Preston said when he was reading the map that day. All right. I don't believe that stuff she told us about, not knowing where the exact spot is. That's why I want to look through it. That's a waste of time, I tell you. She has a map on her somewhere. And I'm not going to give it to you. Well, now, you... You heard us talking? I did. You're not very smart, you two. And you're not very smart either, Miss McAllister. If you were, you wouldn't have busted out of your tent like it did. Come here. Keep away from me. Come near me and I'll... None of that, Shirley. What do you got there? No! Well, a gun, huh? Give it back to me! Give it to me! I'll give it to you! Shut up! Bonham grabbed the girl around the waist with his right arm and placed his left hand over her mouth. She's a real wild cat, isn't she, Joe? Get a rope and a sled. Right. Come on, hold still. Easy now, Miss. No one's going to hear you. We'll continue our adventure in just a moment. And now, here's someone who needs no introduction. That famous teller of tall tales, your old friend, Gabby Hayes. My name might as well have been King Neptune the time I was trying to forward the river deep in the Yukon wilderness years ago. I had my six-month surprise loaded on the stubbornness, donkey the world has ever known. I started to lead that critter across the river. First thing I knowed, he reared up and that donkey's dunked me like a donut. Not only that, but he stood on the bank laughing at me. Well, sir, I was madder than a wet hen. I could see this was going to be a contest of sheer muscles. So before I'd done another thing, I had a great big bowl of nourish and hot Quaker oats. Jiminy, I could feel the strength from Quaker oats making my muscles bigger and bigger. Why, I thought they'd bust right out of my shirt sleeves because, you know, oatmeal gives you more strength and more energy than any other whole grain cereal because Quaker oats is the giant of the cereal. Yes, sir, re-bob. So then I got behind that stubborn donkey. I pushed him into the river with a mighty heave. He was going so fast, he must have thought he was a seahorse and shucks, we made the rest of the trip my water. So listen, buckaroos, if you want the giant of the cereals to help you like it does old Gabby, start tomorrow morning to pack away creamy, delicious Quaker oats. Mmm, it sure tastes good. And wait till you see what good it does for you. Remember, everything I say about Quaker oats goes for mothers oats too, because they're exactly the same. Now to continue. Sergeant Preston arrived back from Fort Selkirk that evening two days ahead of schedule. What he inquired for Mary Ann McAllister at her hotel, the clerk gave him surprising information. She checked out Sergeant, four days ago. Oh, going back to the States, eh? No, I'm sure she hasn't. She bought herself some men's clothes, trail stuff, and took off with Joe Carter and Clay Barnum. I saw him leave. Joe Carter was here? What'd he do? What'd he tell her? I have no idea. All I know is what I told you. Just four nights ago she checked out and went north. I couldn't figure out how she expected it. Hey, Sergeant! I can't wait, Pete, thanks for the information. Less than an hour later, Sergeant Preston, with his huskies and sled ready, prepared to leave headquarters. King stood beside him as he spoke to Constable Harris. There's only one place they'd head, and that's up toward Rocky Creek, where a father's mind must be located. I don't understand it. Why would he leave with them if you told her to remain here? That's what I intend to find out. I'm going to keep on the trail, I'll catch up with him. King, up front, boy. All right, un-ting! On, you husky! Jim McAllister's map was as puzzling to Clay Barnum and Joe Carter as it had been to Marion McAllister and her mother. They'd found it in the pocket of the girl's pocket. For three days they'd trudged the banks of Rocky Creek, keeping a very close watch on the girl at all times and trying to find some trace of the diggings. Then, on the afternoon of the third day, the plotters found a rock ledge with stakes set tight in the frozen ground beneath it. Written upon the stakes was the information that this was the property of Jim McAllister. Joe, this is it! Look at that pane of gold over there. We're going to be rich, Joe, rich! Yeah, millionaires, Clay, both of us. Let's get back to camp and make up a claim for this place. Let's find a spot where we can get rid of that Marion. You coming? Back in their camp, far off the beaten trail, Barnum and Carter gathered their mining tools together, ready to gather gold samples for a say back in town. Hey, listen. They in a bleak and frightened look covered their faces as they heard the barking of Huskies coming near to where their tents stood. Joe, listen, Huskies, quick, grab the girl. We got to get her away from here. Carter and Barnum entered the tent, found and gagged Marion McAllister and carried her to a place behind one of the loaded sleds. He'll find her whoever he is. It's Preston. What? I can make him out now. Come on back in front of the tent. Preston? That means we'll have to kill him. He's the only one who knows about this. I'll have your gun ready, but place straight when it gets here. I'm ready, too. Sergeant Preston wasted no time as his sled came to a halt and he walked to where Carter and Barnum waited. The two of you, eh? Carter? Marion McAllister left Dawson City with you four nights ago. Where is she? Marion McAllister. Oh, who's she? None of that, Carter. You saw her at the hotel and... Yes, King, what is it? King, whose nose had been high in the air, sniffing, was struck by the pleasant aroma somewhere in the vicinity. It was the perfume of the girl who'd become his friend at Headport a few days before her. The scent was faint, but suddenly strong enough to follow. He leaped joyfully through the snow and headed for the sled that screened Marion McAllister. Under King, she's there. I'm coming, boy. No, you're not. You're standing right where you are, Preston. She's alive, if that's what you want to know. Now, stand there. Move an inch and we'll shoot. We'll shoot anyway. Oh, will you? Sergeant Preston turned and grabbed Carter's gun arm before the surprise cook could shoot. He spun Carter in front of him, shielding himself from Barnum's gun, the same time bending the gun arm of Carter. Get him, please. Shoot him. Well, get out of the way. You're blocking him. He's got the dog. Hold him, King. King's leaps and part him off balance. Now, the dog's teeth suck into the would-be killer's arm, and Barnum, crying out in pain, dropped his gun. My arm, let's go, but I... That's it, King. I'll concentrate on you, Carter. Get around here. That's it. No. Throw a gun, will you? All right, King. I'll take over now. Thanks, boy. My arm, Preston. Go, go. I'll hand-gove you while I'm untying Miss McAllister. There. Let's take a picture. All right, King. Got him, boy. Preston went to the spot where the crooks had placed the girl. Quickly, he loosened the ropes that bound her and helped her to her feet. How do you feel, Miss McAllister? Oh, cold. Terribly cold. I was too afraid to realize it until now. Sergeant, they were going to kill me. But they didn't. They'll never kill or threaten anyone again. Sergeant, I've got so much to tell you. Do that later, please. Right now, suppose you go into the tent and mourn yourself. All right. Meanwhile, I'll get these men ready for the trip back to Dawson. Preston tied the two crooks' hand and foot and placed them on his sled. Then he retraced their footsteps through the snow to the spot where they'd found the mine and noted his position for filing by the dead man's daughter. Then he returned to the tent. He, wagging his tail, waited with the girl, now surprisingly recovered from her ordeal. Sergeant, you found it, didn't you? The mine, I mean? Yes, Miss McAllister. And I'm glad I found you. You'll be able to file your claim now, arrange for having it worked, and get back to your mother in the States. What? Is that the only reason you're glad you found me? I'm afraid it will have to be, Miss McAllister. This is one time I wish it could be otherwise, but the code of the Northwest Mounted Police says we must accomplish our mission and report for a new assignment. We finish by getting our man. In this instance, two of them, and when I get them back to Dawson and into a cell, this case will be closed. Sergeant Preston will return in just a moment with a word about our next exciting adventure. This is your friend, Aunt Jemima, suggesting for breakfast, for lunch or for supper, serve Aunt Jemima pancakes. Yes, folks, only Aunt Jemima pancake mix gives you Old South goodness and the lightest pancakes ever. For a wonderful supper tonight, just add milk to Aunt Jemima pancake or a buckwheat mix and bake golden fluffy pancakes. For breakfast, for lunch or for supper, serve Aunt Jemima pancakes. Be careful. Help stop accidents. Remember, fellas and girls, you, yes, you yourselves can help stop accidents. Most accidents are due to just plain carelessness. Use your old bean when you're playing out of doors. Don't dash out into the street after a ball. Be careful when you cross streets. And don't be a smart aleck on your bike or ride in the dark without lights. Don't take chances, not even a little chance. Be extra careful. And now, here is Sergeant Preston. Sergeant Preston reporting for duty, Inspector. There's been a shooting, Sergeant. Get over to the palace hotel as soon as you can. Any details, sir? It's Luke Devlin who's been shot and we suspect that his own gang has turned against him. You'll be dealing with the worst roughnecks in the territory and I must warn you to watch your step. Are the Inspector's suspicions correct? Has the ruthless Devlin gang turned on his leader and deployed to its own hands? If this is the case, then the Sergeant is faced with one of the most difficult assignments. Don't miss the 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 Cereals. This is J. Michael wishing you good bye, good luck, and good health from Quaker Oats, the Giant of the Cereals. So long. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.