 The challenge of the Yukon. The Wonder Dog King, swiftest and strongest of Eskimo Leap 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. In the small frame building that served as a jail in Port Munn, Jim McKenzie had a visitor. When the guard opened the cell door, he thought there was a strange resemblance in the two men, the criminals sitting on the edge of the cot, and the tall, heavy-set prospector who'd asked to see him. It was less than a physical likeness, more a similarity in manner. If the guard wondered about it, he'd dismissed the thought, though he had reason to remember it later. As soon as he was out of earshot, the two men began talking. That had happened, Jim. Tell me about it. Was that Mountie Preston? If it hadn't been for him and that dog of his, I'd be as free as you are, Pete. So you walked into a money, huh? Walked into him. I'd have got away from him if it hadn't been for that mutt. I swung my rifle on him. We were standing about so far from the edge of a ravine, see? Yeah. One minute, that dog ain't anywhere in sight, and the next minute, when I just had my finger ready to squeeze the trigger, he comes tearing towards us on the other side of that ravine. Well, I didn't think nothing of it because that hole was a good 15 feet wide. I figured I'd drop the Mountie and then get the dog. What happened? Well, it happens so fast. When I remember it, it seems like lightning. All I know is that before I could pull the trigger, that dog's flying across the ravine, and he lands square on top of me. That's the story. So, uh, let a dog get the best of you. He ain't like no other dog, Pete. I never saw a dog that could clear a jump like that with space to spare. There's not another dog in the Yukon could do that. Honest. Now, listen, you ain't gonna let me rot in this hole, are you? You're no better than that, Jim. You might be dumb but you're my brother. Now listen, tonight I'll be outside shortly after dawn. You'll be there. Two weeks later, Sergeant Preston sat in Inspector Maynard's office with King, the great dog, settled on the floor close to his master's feet. Corporal Standish, one of the younger members of the force, sat at the far side of the room, anxiously watching the inspector's face. Sergeant, do you remember Jim McKenzie? King and I both remember McKenzie, sir. Well, what both of you don't know is that he was visited by his brother while he was jailed in Fort Mon. And they must have planned a break. And Jim McKenzie was shot trying to escape. His brother got away. I see. But we've got a definite lead on Pete McKenzie's hideout near Tawaga Lake. Near Tawaga Lake? Right. Since I'm especially anxious for Pete to be trapped with the furs, I believe he's hidden somewhere near the lake. I want you two to take him on a ways. Well, it sounds like a good idea to me. We can be ready to start immediately. Good. But one thing, let me caution you about revealing your identities. If he should suspect who you are... I understand, sir. Exactly. It costs both of you your lives. Well, good luck, gentlemen, and happy hunting. It was a week later, with King leading the dogs, the two Mounties arrived at Tawaga Lake sooner than they had expected. And though Preston had thought much of the characteristics of the two McKenzie brothers, he had not yet formed any plans. Dressed as trappers, the two men sighted a village of Yukon Indians in the distance as they traveled the snow-covered trails. What do you plan to do, Sergeant? Well, I don't know yet. That'll depend largely on circumstances. Oh, and the stand. Yeah? Remember, from now on, call me Bill. Oh, I forgot. I'm so used to saying, Sergeant. I'll watch it, though. But what about these Indians? Do you know any in this village? No, this is off my patrol. They're the Tawaga tribe. Oh, King, oh, you ask me. The two men found the Indians kind. They were urged to stay at the village, though they might replenish their supplies if necessary. As Chief Charlie, his young son Preston and Stan discussed the game to be found on the shores of the lake, Preston looked up to see the man he recognized as Pete McKenzie enter the tent. Howdy, Chief. Oh. Chief Charlie, you seem to have a lot of company. You trade skin. Indian make heap good deal. I told the chief he drives a hard bargain. Uh, what are you doing up this way, Stranger? Oh, uh, hunting. Yeah, yeah. Game's plentiful, all right. Where are you from? Almost any place. Where are you from? Good enough. Just forget I asked. Early the next morning, Preston set out with the young Indian and Corporal Standish. Fleetfoot had dropped the young Lynx, and as the youth stooped low to trust its legs. Yeah, what is it, boy? Fleetfoot, look out! You got it just in time, Bill. That mother of Lynx, you saved my life. I wouldn't have been ready if King hadn't warned me, Fleetfoot. I think we'd better get back to the village now, Stand. Carry the carcass back. That bullet hit her right between the eyes. Later that day, Pete McKenzie sat down in the tent with the policeman. You sure can't handle a gun, Stranger. I took a look at that Lynx myself. It was a clean shot. Thanks. I'd say a man who could shoot like that had had a lot of practice. Maybe so. You don't have to be so cagey with me. Of course, I admire anybody who can keep his mouth shut. And I spotted you two right away. What do you mean you spotted us? That's what I said. What's the law got on you? So maybe it ain't any of my business. But I could use you, too. How much is in it? Well, we're getting someplace. A couple of weeks ago, I lost my partner, See. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll split his half with you, too. And you can take it from me. This ain't no petty cash deal. Well, much tomorrow. I want to get out of this place before some of the Mounties come nosing around. Which is, I hate to sight of them. There's no use asking for trouble. Shortly after daybreak, the two Mounties left the Indian village with Pete Mackenzie. A few hours later, Mackenzie called a halt while he examined the map he carried. To get his bearings, he climbed the slope that ascended on the side of a rise that afforded a jump for skiers. Cruston walked with him, the ever-faithful king at his heels. Let's see. Yeah, yeah, this is it all right. I was afraid we might have taken the wrong turn back along the trail. Sure is a good view from here. There might as well get going. Look at them much fight with you. Line them up, will you, boy? As the king heard Preston's order, he obeyed immediately. Crouching low, he jumped. And as the outlaw watched him, the precision and control of the dog in a perfectly timed leap brought something to life in his mind. He turned on his two companions. Hey, that dog. That was a good 20-foot jump. He made it without batting an eye. Like he was used to jumping. What's the idea of the gun? I should have recognized that pooch. I heard all about him from the man that had good reason to remember him. Now get moving, both of you. King didn't see Mackenzie pull the gun, but as he stood lining the dogs up, his sharp ears caught the threat in the man's voice. Moving with amazing swiftness, he raced to Preston's side. But the outlaw was prepared. His first shot caught standing in the shoulder. The young Mouty fell against Preston with such force that the two men rolled back down the slope. King sliding with them. I've got you covered and I've covered down. Stand. I'm all right. Just, just my shoulder. King, listen to me, boy. Go back to the Indian village. Understand? Get Fleetfoot. Bring him here. Come on, Phillip. Oh! They're missing. That Mutt moves like brief lightning. And I've got you, Preston. Preston knew that alone King would cover ground in half the time it had taken them to travel by sled. But he wondered if the great dog would bring help in time to prevent Mackenzie's escape. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at a cave on the edge of the lake where the stolen furs were hidden. A man who faced Preston with a fierce hatred in his eyes forced the Mouty to tie the corporals' hands and feet. I'll tie you up, Sergeant. And while you're resting here, I'll load the canoe with the skin. I suppose you think you'll make a getaway, huh, Mackenzie? I know I will. You two won't last long in a cone and will be a slower death than if I was a chuchin. I've dreamed of having a chance like this that I never thought it would happen. As King raced over the trail running far ahead of the young Indian sled, he strained every muscle in long, powerful strides. He had but one thought. His head throbbed with it. He must reach his master. When the great dog reached the spot where Preston was tied hand and foot, the Indian sled and noisy team could be heard in the distance. A Mouty's captor had finished loading the canoe and at the dog's approach threw a look over his shoulders as he shoved off. King set to work immediately, scissoring the ropes about Preston's wrists. Good boy, King. Good boy, fellas. Fleetfoot, I hear his dogs. He only gets here in time to stop Mackenzie. King turned and saw the outlaw paddling furiously. Preston's hands were free now, and the dog's hatred for the man who'd held a gun on his master flared. This time he'd stop him. King was in the water, and he swam straight toward the boat, oblivious of the current pulling at his body. Mackenzie's arm coming with a sure and relentless speed that was like a certain bet. The man reached to the forward part of the boat where his rifle... You'll get that sound right between the eyes. You're gonna get that rifle. Blast it. But as Mackenzie leaned forward, his arm outstretched to grab the rifle, the canoe spun dizzily in the current. Studying himself with an effort, he realized it was the choice of getting his rifle or keeping the canoe afloat. The gaining his balance, he took up the paddles. But King was getting closer and closer. Stay away from me, mother of brain, you're with this paddle. Stay away, you hear? From the shore, Sergeant Preston, the Indian Fleetfoot, and Corporal Sandish watched the great dog. The young Maudie couldn't believe what he saw when the dog deliberately upset the canoe, throwing Mackenzie thrashing into the water. A short time later, Pete Mackenzie was a sullen prisoner. The Indian had rescued most of the stolen furs from the lake, and while Sergeant Preston looked at the corporal's wounds, Fleetfoot and King guarded the outlaw. How's it been, Stan? Almost as good as new. You know it's strange, Mackenzie. Jim warned you about King. It was because of King you recognized us as Maudies. And yet this dog was as responsible for your arrest as he was for your brothers. Sergeant, tell me, why did you send King away? After what I've just seen, I think he could have handled Pete. Pete hated King. He would have killed him, I'm sure. I didn't want to risk King's life. No, Savvy, you not trapper? Well, in a way we are, Fleetfoot. This is Corporal Sandish. I'm Sergeant Preston. And this is King of the Northwest Mauded Police. Yes, fella. Thanks to you, the case is closed. 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 the same time. Jack McCarthy speaking. This is the Michigan Radio Network.