 Now, as gunshots echo across the windswept snow-covered reaches of the wild north-west, Quakerpuff wheat and Quakerpuff rice, the breakfast cereal shot from guns, present the challenge of the Yukon. It's Yukon King, swiftest and 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. And King, on your knees! 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 Quakerpuff wheat and Quakerpuff rice bringing you the adventures of Sergeant Preston and his wonder dog Yukon King as they meet the challenge of the Yukon. Man, oh man, what a treat it is to dive into a heaping bowl full of Quakerpuff rice or Quakerpuff wheat topped with milk or cream and your favorite fruit. Mmm, what a breakfast! Say, these king-size, ready-to-serve premium grains of wheat or rice are shot from guns. Yes, actually exploded up to eight times normal size to make them crisp and tender, bigger and better tasting. Tomorrow, sure, get off to a flying start with this breakfast treat. Quakerpuff rice or Quakerpuff wheat. Luke McGowan was a hard-bitten product of the north-west frontier, whose temper had not been sweetened by the fact that he had received what he considered a raw deal from organized society. After killing a man in a café brawl, he had been unable to prove that he had shot in self-defense and had been sentenced to 10 years at hard labor. When his present term was up, Luke drifted north to the Yukon, and in the summer of 98, he staked a small claim far up the Stewart River. All through the following fall and winter, Luke worked his claim industriously, and by the end of February when his claim had finally petered out, he had taken more than $20,000 worth of gold dust out of the ground. Now he was on his way to Dawson City to cash in his dust and decide what to do with his hard-earned riches. McGowan had reached the mouth of the Stewart River and was traveling north along Yukon Trail when he fell in with Louis Garot, a swarthy, shifty-eyed half-breed. McGowan mistrusted the half-breed on sight and made up his mind that if questioned, he would say nothing about the bags of gold that were stowed away with the gear on his sled. So you have been prospecting upon the Stewart, eh, McGowan? Yeah, that's right, Gro. Now you go to Dawson with plenty gold in your poke, eh? Oh, no, I didn't have no luck at all. I'm flat-broke. Too bad, my friend. What? That is the luck of the game, eh? What are you looking to me with that way for? I am trying to remember where I have seen you before. Now I remember. You are the Luke McGowan that was sentenced for killing a man 10, 11 year ago down in British Columbia, no? It happens that he drew on me first, not that it's any of your business. Now if you don't like the idea of being trail-mates with a murderer, I'll mush on by myself. Oh, do not go losing your temper, my friend. Whether you are a murderer or an honest man, Louis Garot can take care of yourself. Come on. We hit the trail together. Twilight was falling as the two sleds drew to a halt at a fork in the trail. Here I must leave you, my friend. My cabin, she lied that way. If you would like to come with me, I would be glad to put you off for the night. Oh, thanks. I'll keep on the trail for Doss. Very well. Then I say goodbye. In another hour, you should be able to reach Joe Rinker's cabin. Joe Rinker? I never heard of him. He is, uh, how you say, an old-timer. He has a mind, very rich mind, too. But he wishes to sell it so he can go on to the States. Probably he will try to sell it to you. He tries to sell it to everybody. Ali won't sell it to me. I haven't the money to buy it. I gotta be mushin' on, girl. That's why I'm my friend. And maybe I see you at Joe Rinker's tomorrow morning. Maybe. But I'll be hittin' the trail mighty early. So long, girl. An hour later, Luke McGowan reached Joe Rinker's cabin. That evening, after a tasty supper of bacon and beans, the two men sat talking near the stove. Joe Rinker spoke. So you made out all right for yourself, eh, McGowan? Yeah, I cleaned up at least $20,000 worth of gold dust. Ha-ha. That brief girl don't know it, though. I didn't trust the critter, so I told him I was flat broke. Where you goin'? Hey, what are you gonna do with that gun? I'm gonna kill you. Kill me? What for? Because I want that gold on your sleeve. Well, what about your mind? It's not worth a plug nickel. It's solid. I've been trying to unload it on someone for the last six months. You mean you're actually broke? I'm broke, all right. But I've sworn I'm gonna lead the Yukon with a decent stake. And that gold on your sled is just a stake I've been looking for. Look, you can't shoot me, Rinker. You'll never get away with it. No one will know you're missing, McGowan. You better say your prayers right now. No, you don't! Bunging forward, suddenly Luke sees Joe Rinker's wrist. For a moment, the two men grappled, and then... Oh! I... I've killed him. With a sinking feeling, Luke realized the full danger of his position. Who would believe his incredible story when every circumstance suggested that he had murdered the mine owner, with robbery as the obvious motive? I gotta clear out of here fast. Early the next morning, Louis Garot stopped by Joe Rinker's cabin. He is dead. And I bet I know who shot him at Luke McGowan. You better go tell the Monies. Sergeant Preston and his great dog King were at the nearby settlement of Ogilvy when Garot arrived to the news of Joe Rinker's murder. A short time later, Sergeant Preston and King with Louis Garot were carefully examining the scene of the crime. What are you looking at the walls for, Sushoe? Rinker's gun had been fired. I want to see if the shot went wild and landed in the woodwork. Maybe you'll get McGowan with that shot. I doubt that. If McGowan had been wounded, chances are he'd have left traces of blood somewhere around the cabin. You can bet King would nose out those traces. It is very strange. Now listen to me, Louis. Judging from those tracks outside, McGowan's heading due east. Go back to Ogilvy and tell them I said telegraph McGowan's description to all the settlements east of here. In the meantime, I'll put King on McGowan's trail. Come on, boy. We've got a job to do. It was noon of that same day in the little town of Moose Crossing that Bill Weems, the local telegraph operator, stopped into Marshmidd's general store. Well, Bill, what's the news on the telegraph today? Plenty of excitement on the way, Amar. A man was found murdered over near Ogilvy. Murdered, you say? Ah, that is bad. The Monty's know who did it, and they say he's heading this way. They've wired his description to all the settlements east of Ogilvy. What does he look like, this murderer? Well, he says a big, tough-looking sourdough with a crop of red whiskers. His name is Luke McGowan. You'd better keep an eye out for this McGowanfeller. In the meantime, William, what do you say to a little game of checkers before you go back to work? What do you think I came over for, Amar? A short time later, as Ma and Bill were bent over the checkerboard, they heard the door open. Oh, you got a customer, Ma? Yeah, yeah, I do see what he wants. Yes, sir, what can I do? Well, what are you staring at? I was just admiring that crop of red whiskers you got. Quite a bonfire you got there, mister. Yeah? Well, never mind my whiskers. Just attend to my order and I'll be on my way. Yeah, yeah, you tell me what you want and I'll get it for you. As Ma bustled around, filling the stranger's order, she found an opportunity to whisper to Bill. It's that murderer McGowan, Bill, to sneak up the back way and go get help. That's what I thought. You keep him talking. I'll make a move, either of you. Since you two seem to know all about me, maybe I'd better tie you both up. Covering Ma, Schmidt and Bill weems with his sick shooter, Luke forced them to tie each other's ankles. Then he himself tied their hands behind their backs. Yeah, I guess that'll hold you. All right, how much are you owe you for those supplies? I do not know. I haven't added up the bill. Maybe $16, $17. I'll help myself to the flower and call it $20. Several hours later, Sergeant Preston and King arrived in town. Ma Schmidt and Bill weems told them out of their story. Yeah, he asked Sergeant. I recognized him by his red viscors. And a funny thing, Sergeant, he seemed mighty honest for a murderer. Before he left, he laid out enough gold to pay for the supplies he bought, and he left it on the pan of the scares. He paid you in gold, eh? Yeah. Yesterday, he said he was flat broke. Oh, he had plenty of gold, Sergeant. The poke he brought into the store to pay for his supplies, he must have had 20 pounds of gold dust on it. That gold may be the final evidence of how convict Luke McGowan of murder. Yeah? Come on, King, we better hit the trail again. Luck we should be able to arrest McGowan within the next 24 hours. After leaving Moose Crossing, Sergeant Preston noticed that the fugitives' tracks had now swerved in a northerly direction. And those were after him, boys, making noise. Probably thinks he can circle around Dawson and 40 miles and get over the border before we catch up with him. I must see about that. On, King! On! Late the following morning, Luke headed up a rocky trail that gradually climbed until it topped a lofty spruce-clad plateau. Pausing to look back over the ground he had just traveled, the fugitive finally caught sight of his pursuer on the winding trail far below. That must be a mountain. The way that team of his is traveling, you'll be on my neck in another hour. Mushu, Husky! Mushu! Whipping his team forward frantically, Luke pushed on at top speed. A short time later, he came to a low bridge, stretching across a steep wall ravine. The bridge was made of logs. Luke crossed the bridge, then hauled his team and took out an ax from among the gear on his sled and began chopping. With furious strokes, Luke hewed away at the log bridge. Then the structure began to totter, but a few more blows, the fugitive finally sent it crashing to the floor of the ravine far below. Already, Luke could hear the approaching dog-team of his pursuer. Driving his own sled behind a big cluster of rocks, the fugitive ducked out of sight and waited tensely. As Sergeant Preston pulled to a halt on the opposite ledge, Luke stepped into view with his rifle raised to his chest and shouted, I advise you to surrender. And if I refuse, I'm not turning back, McGowan. I'm starting around the ravine right now to place you under arrest. Remember, you can shoot me, but sooner or later the force will catch up with you. All right, un-king! Un! I'm warning you, Marty. Un! We'll continue our story in just a moment. Shot from gun. These three famous words mean a breakfast treat all ready to eat. The original, the one and only Quaker Puffed Rice or Quaker Puffed Wheat. Yes, these are giant size grains. I said giant size. And they actually are shot from guns to make them crisp and tender. Quaker Puffed Rice and Quaker Puffed Wheat are exploded up, up, up, two-eight times normal size. That makes them bigger and better tasting. Yes, they're shot through and through with keen nut-like flavor, too. They're a thrifty deluxe, finely breakfast treat that's easy to fix as falling off a log. Just pour on a bowlful, add some fruit, and milk or cream. Talk about good. More important, long hours at school and play call for a hearty breakfast. And Quaker Puffed Wheat and Quaker Puffed Rice furnish added food values and have restored natural grain amounts of vitamin B1, niacin and nion. So how about it? You'll be getting off to a flying start when you eat Quaker Puffed Wheat or Quaker Puffed Rice. And to get the original, crisp, fresh, wheat or rice shot from guns, always buy the big red and blue package with the smiling Quaker Man on the front. Quaker Puffed Wheat and Quaker Puffed Rice are never sold in bags or bulk. Now to continue our story. King was furious when he saw his master fall face down in the snow. He wanted to charge to attack the gunman, but the canyon blocked his way. Then the great dog did the next best thing. He sprang to his master's side, ready to shield Preston from further bullets with his own furry body. Sergeant Preston lay quietly for a few moments until he heard the barking of McGowan's dogs fade into the distance. Then he sat up and examined his wound. All right, boy. This caught me in the fleshy part of the lake. Seems to be all right. Guess I can manage. King, if McGowan's a murderer, I wonder why he didn't kill me. At that distance, it's hard to see how he could have missed. Sergeant Preston bandaged his wound and then began the long hazardous trip around the ravine. By the time he picked up McGowan's trail on the opposite side of the ravine, the fugitive had gained a full six hours lead on him. In the days that followed, Sergeant Preston maintained a steady, relentless pursuit of his quarry. On the fifth day after he had been wounded, Sergeant Preston encountered a trapper named Sandy Duncan, heading south with a load of furs. Sandy, I'm charling a man named McGowan, big, tough-looking fellow with a crop of red whiskers. You see him? I sure have, Sergeant. That's why I'm heading south. What do you mean? He came to McCavin this morning, took nearly all McGrob at the point of a gun. Of course, he paid me for it, but you can't eat gold. Well, I'm running pretty low on Grub myself, Sandy, but I'll split what I have with him. No, you better hang on to what you've got. Tell you what, though, Sergeant, if you're willing to take time out, we can go hunting for a couple of hours. If either of us gets anything, we can share it. That might be a good idea. All right, Sandy, I'll do it. Sandy led the Sergeant at the banks of a frozen creek, where he thought they might locate the tracks of a stray moose or caribou. The two men separated in order to cover a wider terrain, but when they met several hours later, the only thing to show for their trouble was a snowshoe rabbit, which King had startled and driven into range of his master's revolver. Discouraged and somewhat uneasy, the two men headed back to their sleds, only to find that disaster had struck in their absence. Hey, so it's been at our sleds, Sergeant. I think I can guess what's happened. Oh, they cleaned out your Grub and fed it to the Huskies. Look, McGowan, Sandy, now I know why you bought up most of your food this morning, one to keep me from getting any of it. Murdering the loot? You left us enough to eat for a day or so. That lot of good, that'll do. Sergeant, you better turn around. Come south with me. I can't do that, Sandy. But Sergeant, you'll starve if you don't catch up with him. I'll have to take that chance. My job is to bring back McGowan, and that's what I'm going to do. Cutting down his daily rations to the bare minimum needed to sustain life, Sergeant Preston pushed grimly ahead. It was two days later in a remote mountain valley that his long pursuit finally approached its climax. A grisly sight met the Mountie's eyes. Ahead of him, on a snow-covered trail, lay McGowan's overturned sled with the Huskies dead in their traces. Their sides feathered with arrows. We can't help them now, King. They're dead. McGowan evidently didn't know it, that when he entered this valley, he was trespassing on the Indian sacred hunting grounds. They don't seem to have disturbed the gear on his sled. Let's take a look, boy. Plenty of supplies and... Wait a minute. Gold dust. Four big bags full of it. And Sandy said you can't eat gold, and yet men kill each other to possess it. Doesn't make much sense, does it, boy? Sergeant Preston transferred the supplies and the gold from McGowan's sled to his own. Then he gave King his orders. All right, King, we're going after McGowan and the men who captured him but remember, from now on, keep the Huskies absolutely quiet. Our own lives may depend on it. Darkness had fallen an hour later, as King slowed the team with a low growl. Oh, you Huskies. Oh, no. What is it, boy? Do we know their camp? Leaving his sled, Sergeant Preston went cautiously forward with King at his side. Soon the distant flicker of a firelight among the pines warned the Mountie that he was in sight of the Indian camp. Advancing silently through the darkness, the Mountie and his great dog took cover in a dense thicket of pines and underbrush. Before them, in a small clearing lit by a blazing campfire, they saw five Indian warriors chanting and posturing before a white man bound helplessly to a stake. Let's look McGowan all right. They're getting ready. Spears and arrows. King, now listen to me, boy. I'm going to tell you what to do. King cocked his ears and looked steadily at Sergeant Preston's eyes and his intentions. Then the great dog slunk silently around the edge of the clearing, keeping always out of sight behind a screen of trees and underbrush. The Mountie waited until he was sure King had arrived in position, and then suddenly, with his carbide in one hand and revolver in the other, the Mountie burst out of the underbrush firing into the air. The Indians taken completely by surprise and believing themselves attacked from two sides fled in wild disorder. King cocked his carbide, prepared to cut Luke McGowan free from the stake. Mountie, you showed up just in time. Never mind talking. Now you're free. Take this revolver and I'll take the carbine. I'll have to reload as we run. As the two white men prepared to flee, one Indian braver than the others paused and looked back at the clearing. In a flash, his keen eyes took in what was happening. He rallied his comrades to battle. Rushing back toward the clearing, the Indians loosed a volley of arrows at the fleeing white men. King struck Sergeant Preston in the shoulder. Oh, Preston. As the sergeant was hit, King sprang to cover his beloved master, and Luke McGowan turned coolly and fired point blank at the onrushing Indian. Two of the Indians went down before Luke shots. The others wavered, then turned to retreat. I'll carry you, Mountie. King, lead the way, boy. Jamming the revolver into the sergeant's holster, Luke hoisted him over one brawny shoulder. Then reached down and picked up the carbine. All right, Husky. Let's go. King led McGowan to his master's sled where the sergeant was gently deposited and the arrow removed. McGowan bandaged the wound as best he could, and then... We better make tracks out of this valley, Pronto. Mush you, Husky! The next morning, Sergeant Preston awoke. McGowan, where are we? Take it easy, Mountie. We're a good many miles south of that Indian valley. Oh, hello, fella. Good old King. Some dog you got, Sergeant, believe me. If it hadn't been for him, we might have left our top hair back there with the Indians. What happened to your weapons, McGowan? They weren't on your sled. My six shooters right here under my park. The Indians never did get that. They took my rifle. They got so excited when you attacked, they forgot all about it. Well, what's the next move? You seem to hold all the trump cars at the moment. I don't know, Sergeant. Something else I don't savvy is why you risk your life to save me. I might ask you the same question. Well, how about it? You coming back to stand trial? Yeah, Mountie. I guess I am. A week later, the two men arrived back in Dawson City. Their appearance caused a minor sensation. Sergeant Preston, still weak from his wound, was riding the sled while Luke McGowan handled the team. Inspector Maynard, seated in his office at Mounted Police Headquarters, voiced the general reaction. What did you do to him, Sergeant? Hypnotize him? That's the first time I've ever seen a prisoner brought in driving the Mountie sled for him. This prisoner came back voluntarily, Inspector. And I think that should be remembered in his favor. It will be, Sergeant. Tell me, sir, have they held the inquest on Rinker's net? Yes, and they returned a verdict of murder against Luke McGowan. Oh, in that case, he'll have to stand trial. Any reason why he shouldn't? He's guilty, isn't he? Of shooting Rinker. No. Of murder, I don't think so. Can you prove that, Sergeant? I'm going to try, Inspector. I'm going to try awfully hard. On the day of the trial, the courtroom was packed. Luke McGowan was on the stand. Now, tell us in your own words exactly what happened at Joe Rinker's cabin. Rinker pointed his gun at me and said he was going to kill me. He said he wanted the gold on my sled because his own mind was worthless. I grappled with him and the gun went off accidentally. Public sentiment, which at first had run strongly against McGowan, was now divided. Well, if Sergeant Preston says McGowan ain't guilty, then he is. But don't forget, he served time for killing a man down in British Columbia. Let's wait and hear the evidence. But tense hush fell over the audience as Sergeant Preston took the stand. Sergeant, I understand you've gathered evidence tending to support the defendant's story. Will you tell us what that evidence is? Yes, sir. In the first place, Rinker was not killed by McGowan's gun. How do you know that, Sergeant? McGowan's six-shooter is a Colt 45. The bullet that killed Rinker was from a .32. It was obviously fired from Rinker's own gun, as McGowan claims. How do you know the .32 revolver found in the dead man's hand really belonged to Rinker? Friends have identified it as Rinker's gun, sir. Also, his initials were carved on the grips. You feel that rules out the possibility of murder? In my opinion, if McGowan had shot Rinker in cold blood, he would have used his own six-shooter. Simply doesn't make sense that he used Rinker's gun. Only reasonable explanation is that Rinker drew on him and the two men grappled. Just as McGowan claims. I see. Is there any other evidence? Yes, sir. I've carefully examined Rinker's mind. With what result? His mind is worthless. Let's throw some doubt on McGowan's alleged motive for the crime. Frankly, sir, I think it explodes the whole case against him. If Rinker's mind was worthless, then the gold on McGowan's sled must have come from his own claim. Under those circumstances, it was Rinker and not McGowan who had a motive for murder. Is that all, Sergeant? Well, I'd like to add this, sir. At no time while I was trailing McGowan, a cold-blooded killer, his every act was out of an innocent but desperate man. And when he returned to stand trial, he returned voluntarily, even though he could easily have killed me and escaped. In my opinion, McGowan is clearly innocent of murder. Following Sergeant Preston's testimony, it took only a few minutes for the jury to return its verdict. We find the defendant guilty. As the crowd left the courtroom, Luke McGowan pressed the sergeant's hand warmly. I'll never mind the gold, Sergeant. I just want to shake your hand. Don't bother thanking me, Luke. I was just doing my job. Thank King here. If he hadn't been on your trail, you might still be a fugitive. And if he hadn't been with us in that Indian valley, we might both be dead men. Gosh, King, thanks, fella. At last, I've had a fair deal. What's he mean by that? Well, Luke, I guess he's glad to know this case is closed. In just a moment, Sergeant Preston will give you a preview of Wednesday's adventure. Remember, fellas and girls, that's the day after tomorrow. You're in for such a treat you'll hardly believe your ears. Quakerpuff wheat and Quakerpuff rice have a surprise for you. If you like dogs, if you like King, if you like any dog, be on hand. Every single one of you listeners is getting in on something big, an offer that's out of this world. It's something you'll want and it's yours at no extra cost. There's nothing to write in for. What is it? Well, all I can say is this. If you like dogs, be listening to our very next broadcast and tell your friends to listen too. That's this coming Wednesday, the day after tomorrow. These radio dramas, a feature of the challenge of the Yukon Incorporated, are created and produced by George W. Trendle, directed by Fred Flower Day and edited by Fran Stryker. The part of Sergeant Preston is played by Paul Sutton. They are brought to you every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at the same time by Quaker Puff Wheat and Quaker Puff Rice. The breakfast cereal shot from gun. Listen Wednesday, when Sergeant Preston and Yukon King meet the challenge of the Yukon in the case of the Sparrow. I was taking a bolt-trip on the Yukon Queen to protect a millionaire who was coming from New York. One night I found a note slipped under the door, asking me to come to another part of the ship. When I reached there, I was slugged and thrown overboard. When King jumped after me, well, it's a mighty exciting story. Be sure to hear this exciting adventure Wednesday. Ever notice how some dogs have thick, glossy coats? The kind you'd like your dog to have? Well, chances are, dogs with good-looking coats and sturdy bodies get the right food. That's why you should feed your dog cattle ration. He's packed with vitamins and minerals, and he'll love it. You can actually see the chunks of lean red meat in every can. Choice cuts of U.S. government-inspected horse meat. Have Mom get cattle ration at her favorite dealer today. Cattle ration, first in canned dog food. This is Jay Michael wishing you good-bye, good luck, and good health from Quaker Pop.