 But Khan, un-King, un-New-Hast-King! The water-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 sight of the odds against them, Sergeant Preston and his wonder-dog-King met that challenge and justice ruled triumphant. The small roadhouse of Jan Peters on the trail to Dawson City held very distinguished visitors one night in early winter. Mr. Williams, a mining engineer from San Francisco, and his daughter, Mary. They sent before the huge stove in the big cab after supper, and Mary's father smiled as he saw how eagerly his daughter listened to old Jan. Yeah, I've been up here in the North country for a good many years. I never expect to leave. It's fascinating. I've never seen such mountains and vast stretches of snow. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. You were lucky getting a man like Big John to bring you here. He'd make anybody's trip easy. He's the best guy I know. He can certainly handle a dog team and make a camp. Him too. He never questioned anything he does or orders them to do. How did you happen to get Big John? Well, a money medicine cell character. This guy was with him and the money made to deal with him for us. This money? He wasn't a big fella, about six feet four? Sergeant Preston? Yes. Yes, that was his name. I guess you'd be surprised if I told you that Big John led Sergeant Preston on a long chasance, helping a murderer escape. What? Yep, it's true. Do you mean to tell me that that Mountie would send us up here with a criminal? No, not Sergeant Preston. He's the best Mountie in the country. Big John ain't a criminal. He and a sergeant are the best friends. But you said... Oh, please tell us about it. I've told it hundreds of times because I heard it from both Sergeant Preston and Big John. People up here like to hear stories. The only past time we have... Everybody likes to hear stories. Well, yes, I better tell you about Big John first. As I said before, John's father was part white and John inherited the big frame and the brains of his white grandfather, who was a fur trader from the States. John had a young brother, about five years younger than he was. His father died when they were pretty young, so John more or less took care of the kid and his mother. His brother's name was Imago. John was crazy about the kid, acted more like his father than his brother. Imago was a bad one. He lied, stole. Nobody liked him. Didn't Big John know it? No, he didn't, and for a very good reason. The first time anyone told him, there was fireworks. John had come home from a hunting trip and was met by a black eagle, one of the trotters. Do what? Do you have good hunt? Let him eat. Get many fur in trap, see? Big John may be give half to black eagle. Black eagle want to trade? Give furs to black eagle, or furs your brother Imago steal from him to trade for fire water. Black eagle call my brother Thief? He is Thief. No, no, no! Big John! Get up! Get up, you dog! Get up, I say! Ah, you'll see what happened to him who call my brother Thief. After that, no one dared tell Big John about the way his young brother carried on. John was powerful and had beaten black eagle within an inch of his life. Imago got worse and worse, but none of the doings reached the ears of his older brother. Short time later, Big John got a chance to take some prospectors up to Dawson. In way nearly two months. It was during that time that Sergeant Preston was called in the headquarters to investigate Imago. I'm glad you got the time to take over this case, Sergeant. We have two witnesses who saw the killing. It was an Indian named Imago who had been drinking and killed this prospector in front of two white men. Is Imago from the Indian village north of here? Yes. He isn't very well liked by the members of his tribe. I doubt that you'll have much trouble finding out where he went to question him. I'll go to the village at once, sir. I'll take supplies and carry on from there. Hello, black eagle. How? I'm looking for a friend of yours, Imago. Imago, not my friend. Oh? You know where he is? Imago, leave fast. Him go trail north. Him try me brother. His brother's the man called Big John. You know catch Imago if him meet Big John. Big John, best guy to north. Thank you, black eagle. I'm certainly going to try. Untangle your husband. It was just about that time that Imago met Big John a trail about 20 miles from the Indian village. Big John leering home and traveling light. He haunt this team as Imago stepped in front of him on the trail. Big John, at last I find you. Imago, what is wrong? Where you go? Man in town. He tried to kill me. We fight. I hit him before. Now white man's lord tried to get me. Big police fellow come. You tell white man what happened? I try. They say hang me. I run. White man not hang you. Come. We go to north country. White man not find you if you with Big John. Sergeant Preston had taken the trail north. It was well traveled and the trail of Imago had disappeared under the tracks of many sleds. He was about 15 miles out of town when he saw two figures beside a huge rock. He haunted his team and approached them. Hello King. Hello you hunkies. Hello. Anything I can do? You can help me get this man on my dog sled Sergeant. I found him wounded here beside the trail. Who are you? I'm Zeb Hunter. This man is Pete Grimes. He's been stabbed. Oh. He jumped me from behind this rock. Took my supplies. Are you badly hurt? He got him in the shoulder. I can get him back to town all right. Are these the tracks of the half-breed? Yes. I think he went north. I see. He's going to make it easier for me. I think the man who stabbed you is the man I met here. Now I'll have a trail to follow. Come on Pete, I'll help you on the sled. Big John was wise in the ways of the trail. He covered his tracks well. Sergeant Preston lost time finding it again. Seven days had passed. Imago was getting sullen. Only a few days of supplies were left. The winter was bad that year. It wasn't much game. John knew better than to spend too much time thinking. They were mushing along near the mountains when all of a sudden Big John... Big John. You all right? My foot. I step in hole. My ankle. It broke I think. You try standing. Here I help. Oh, no, no. I cannot. What do we do? We make up. You build fire. Maybe I can fix foot. You help me over there beside rock. Bad luck. It slows down. Here. It's all right. Now you get firewood. Goodbye Big John. Imago. What do you mean? Good enough for only one. This can walk really far away. Push. Push out. Imago. Imago. Come back. It was a pretty bitter moment for Big John. He knew then that his brother was everything people said. The thief and the murderer. But he didn't have much time to think. Because far away and then closer he heard them. Timberwolves. Big John had his knife. But his gun was on the dog sled. He crawled around on his hands and knees and gathered a few dry sticks and managed to start a small fire. But he knew it was no use. What he didn't know was that a few miles away that fire was sighted. A sergeant Preston and an Eskimo guide stood on a high moor and the malty turned his binoculars on the fire while King, his big dog, whined eagerly at his high. See who it is. There's one man all by himself. It's not bad if him alone. Hear that? He can't be a muggo, a Big John. No sign of a dog, Tim. It may be Trapper. Whoever it is, he's in trouble. It's a very small. He won't camp here, can he? They got there fast. A front king? I'm tanked! I'm your husband! Big John sat with his back against the rock. He held his knife in his hand and waited. Three big wolves sat watching him across the little fire. Their green eyes gleamed and as the fire died, they crouched and crawled closer on their bellies. They were lean and starved and slightly mad with hunger. Then as the fire died down, the biggest one sprang. Big John met it in the air with his knife ready and then suddenly heard a rifle shot and he saw the gray shape of a huge dog spring at one of the wolves coming at him from the side. There goes the other one. You all right, man? You come just in time. I was afraid we wouldn't make it. Who are you? Me, Big John. Big John? But you're the one we're after. Where's your brother? Him go. You mean he went off and left you here, helpless? Do you think men lie about Amago? Do you not know him bad? I know he's your brother, Big John. But Amago has killed him and we're going to get him and you'll make camp here all night and I'll fix your ankle. Me owe you my life. Your dog and you saved me from the world. Now me help you. For the next three days that Chase went on, told the sergeant down a lot carrying Big John on the sled, but they made up for it by Big John's knowledge of the country. It was the third day and they were nearing a trail that led up a mountain when suddenly they heard a shot and a bullet whizzed past the sled. Okay. All behind the sled can it do. Big John, get out of here beside me. And Amago, he must be behind rock. That shot come close. Look, those shots started in Mavelanche. Well, that's the end of Amago. It better this way. It better that Martin kill Amago. Yes John, I'm glad it happened too. Come on, we'll go back. And so Sergeant Preston and Big John got to know each other. The mountain never arrested him for trying to save his brother and since then Big John would die for Sergeant Preston. This is an amazing country, isn't it? It's a hard country, but a wonderful one. There are many stories as exciting as that one about it. Millions of them. I could tell you dozens about Sergeant Preston and that big dog of his. There's one thing sure. If a man has committed a crime, there's one thing he hates to hear and that Sergeant Preston coming after him through the snow, his voice ringing out in the stillers. 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 this same time. Larry McCann speaking, this is a Michigan...