 The challenge of the Yukon. It's Yukon King, swiftest and strongest lead dog of the Northwest, blazing the trail for Sergeant Preston of the Northwest's modern 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 Sergeant Preston and his wonder dog Yukon King as they meet the challenge of the Yukon. The trail down the hillside was steep and narrow. Shorty's sprague break his sled hard to keep it under control during the sharp descent. Easy, Colonel, easy, Dave, easy, easy. The passenger on Shorty's sled was a beautiful blonde girl clad in a lynx pocket. Both Shorty and the girl had their eyes fixed on another dog team that was climbing the trail several hundred yards below them. Finally, the girl spoke. Shorty, isn't that one of Haster's men driving that sled? It sure is, Miss Gilbert. His name is Joe Gold. Joe Gold? But he's the worst of the lot. He's big and he's mean. Maybe we'd better pull over to one side and wait till his sled goes by. Don't you worry, ma'am. We're going downhill. So we've got the right-of-way. Shorty took it for granted that the uphill sled would give way according to the custom of the trail. But as the two teams drew close together, he realized that Gold had no intention of pulling aside. A moment later, the two teams came face-to-face. Shorty halted his team with difficulty, barely in time to prevent a clash between the opposing sled dogs. He shouted angrily at Gold. Hey, what's the idea of blocking the trail? Get that team yours under the waist break. The downhill sled has a right-of-way. It's your job to pull aside. Besides, I'm carrying the lady. Maybe you don't hear so good. I said get that team of yours out of the way. I'm not taking orders from you or any of the rest of Haster's wolves. The only direction this team is moving is straight ahead. Or a sawed-off run, you're talking mighty cocky. I guess you need a little lesson in manners. Don't you dare start a fight with Shorty, or you're twice as big as he is. Don't you worry, Miss Gilbert. I've run up against pool cats his size before. Are you? Gold's punch caught Shorty squarely in the face and crumpled him over backwards with blood streaming from his nose and mouth. You rotten bully! That's just the beginning. When you see what else I'm going to do to him. As Shorty struggled weakly to his feet, Gold was ready with another blow to the head. But Shorty rolled with a punch and came up fighting. He defended himself game-lame, but the fight was unequal from the first. Gold was a full head taller than Shorty, and at least 50 pounds heavier. In a few minutes, he had battered a smaller man into submission. I guess you'll learn your lesson, Sprig. Just to make sure you don't forget it. With deliberate cruelty, Gold jerked his helpless opponent up off the ground and smashed him in the face with another terrific punch. You unspeakable beast! Let me give you some advice, girly. The Yukon is no place for a woman. If you're smart, you go back where you came from and stay there. I came up here to operate my uncle's mind. And that's exactly what I intend to do. All right, you've had your warning. Now get your team off the trail. Here, give me those traces. Ah, there you have it! Gold drove Shorty's sled into the snow bank at one side of the trail. And with a final threat to Marsha, he returned to his own sled. Remember what I said? The Yukon is no place for a woman. Marsha Gilbert was still trying to revive the unconscious Shorty several minutes later when Sergeant Preston drove up the trail. Looks like you've had some trouble here. Can I help? Oh, I'd be grateful if you would. I'm Sergeant Preston, Northwest Mounted Police. And I'm Marsha Gilbert. Glad to know you, Miss Gilbert. What happened to your friend here? He was beaten up by a man named Joe Galt. Joe Galt, eh? Now let's soon bring him around. Incidentally, who is he? His name is Shorty Sprague. He's one of my employees at the Snow Queen Mine. Well, this brandy ought to help. Really smoke. Oh, it hit me. Take it easy, Shorty. The fight's all over. Who are you? He's Sergeant Preston of the Mounted Police, Shorty. Howdy, Sergeant. Yes, I must look pretty funny. Well, you've got a black eye and a split lip, but your nose is still in place. It doesn't feel that way. Most of you tell me what the fight was all about. We were going down hill. Well, Joe Galt was on his way up. I expected Galt to steer his sled off the trail. He should have. But he didn't. He blocked the way and tried to bulldoze me in to pull on the side. I gave him an argument. I guess maybe that is my mistake. It didn't matter, Shorty. No matter what you did, he'd have found some excuse for picking a fight. What's Galt got against Shorty? Nothing, except that he works for me. What do you mean? Galt wasn't acting on his own hook. He works for a man called Hassler, Martin Hassler. I've heard the name. Had some mining syndicate of some kind, doesn't he? Yes, that's right, Sergeant. He's been buying up all the claims on the last chance creek. The only property he hasn't been able to get his hands on is the Snow Queen mine. Which belongs to you? Yes. I inherited it from my uncle six months ago. Hassler's been trying to buy me out ever since I took over the mine. I take it you aren't selling. You bet I'm not, Sergeant. The Snow Queen is worth twice what he's offering. Hassler thought it'd be easy to swindle me because I'm a woman, and I'm new to the mining business. When he found out I wasn't quite so gullible as he thought, he changed his tactics. How so? He began trying to intimidate me, to bully me into accepting his offer. He evidently intends to make things so unpleasant for me. I'll be glad to sell out. So that's why Galt picked a fight with Shorty? Yes. He and the rest of Hassler's men have already scared off four of my crew. Shorty here and my form and Mike Muldoon are the only employees I have left. I could arrest Galt on a charge of assault and battery, but he probably wouldn't get born in a few days in jail. He deserves life. That still wouldn't stop Hassler. What if it wouldn't be better for me to camp here in the neighborhood for a few days and look into the matter? Might be able to get something on Hassler that would justify illegal action. Sergeant, if you could do that, it would... Well, it'd be wonderful. All right, I'll see what I can do. Sergeant Preston drove to the Snow Queen mine with Marsha Gilbert and Shorty Sprague. Marsha introduced the sergeant to her foreman, Mike Muldoon, an elderly bald-headed man who had formerly worked for her uncle. She also invited the sergeant to stay for supper. You said you used to work for Miss Gilbert's uncle, didn't you, Mr. Muldoon? That's right, sergeant. I worked for Dave Gilbert for over a year before he died. How much gold you're taking out of the Snow Queen these days? Oh, she's been paying about $100 a day lately. Your operating expense must run nearly that high. Oh, yes it does. We're hardly making any profit right now. Mine's not puttering out, is it? Oh, definitely not, sergeant. The ore's running pretty low grade at the moment, but I have a hunch the vein gets a lot richer farther on. I hope you're right, Miss Gilbert. I'm sure of it, Mike. Uncle Dave wrote me just before he died that the Snow Queen was good for four or five hundred dollars a day. And he certainly wasn't the kind to make rash statements. Quiet, King. Sounds like someone's coming. It looks like Joe Galt. What? That's who it is. Galt? I wonder what he wants. He's got a lot of nerve coming here after what happened today. I'll go and talk to him. Stealing that gold, Muldoon. Oh, full the bare face lies. You've got no right to come around here and make a statement like that. Shut up. I'm doing the talking. Muldoon hasn't got that backbone to stand up to Galt. I'll go talk to him myself. Well, it's still, Miss Gilbert. I think maybe I'd better have a few words with Joe Galt. What seems to be the trouble out here? That's right. I'm Sergeant Preston, Northwest Mounted Police, if you want a formal introduction. And you're Joe Galt. How come you know my name? I heard how you beat up Shorty Sprague on the trail this afternoon. It was his own fault. I told you... I won't argue the point, for the moment at least. Just tell me what the trouble is right now. A Snow Queen crew has been robbin' us. Then you prove that. I know I can't prove it, but... Then you'd better tone down your language. Listen, Marty, you're not wise to the setup around here yet. If you were, you wouldn't... I've seen enough to know that your accusation is probably untrue. Now, if you want to report a robbery, do it in the proper way. Let the police make the charges. I've already told you, the Snow Queen crew robbed us. They took at least a thousand dollars worth. Either they kick through with that gold, or I'm gonna... They're going to what? You're mighty brave, aren't you, with that big malamute tobacco? King? Go back, fella. Go on over there in the corner and lie down. Unwillingly, King backed away from the door and lay down in the far corner of the room as his master had commanded. Just stay quiet, boy, and don't move no matter what happens. Understand, fella? All right, Galt. Now, what was it you were going to tell me? Galt stared sullenly at the Mountie for a moment, measuring the power in his broad shoulders, and the cool determination in his steel blue eyes. Finally, his glance wavered. All right, never mind. Sorry, I'm not quite as small as shorting. Maybe you could arrange to wear stilts in our next chat. You're making a big mistake, Mountie. My boss has plenty of pull in the right places. He can have you broken any time he says the word. This conversation never was very interesting, and it gets less interesting by the minute. It better be on your way, Galt. I'm leaving. But you'll be here in mighty soon from Martin Hasler. Sergeant Preston declined Marsha's invitation to put up for the night at the mine bunkhouse. Instead, he pitched camp in the hill's overlooking Last Chance Creek. He waited for over an hour after seeing the last light glimmer out in the buildings at the Snow Queen Mine. And then he announced to King... We're going down there, fella. Have a look inside that mine shaft. It's a little too much of a coincidence that the gold should start featuring out just when Hasler's trying to buy the mines in the scope of it. I have a hunch we'll find that the Snow Queen is just as rich as ever. Come on, King, I'll take a lantern to use inside the shaft. The Snow Queen Mine consisted of a large tunnel into the hillside, with several cross-cuts and side galleries leading off the main shaft. Sergeant Preston examined the cuttings in the main tunnel and then began to explore the side galleries. Well, King, the mine doesn't look any richer than modern said. Maybe my suspicions were all wrong. It's better, fella. Are you all right? Someone's coming. Better blow out the lantern. Let's hope he didn't see the glow. Sounds like he turned down the next gallery. Come on, King, I'll follow him. Creeping back to the main shaft, Sergeant Preston fell his way through the darkness to the opening of the next gallery. In the distance, he could see the glow of the mysterious visitor's lantern. Cautiously, he made his way closer. The man's back was turned toward Sergeant Preston. He was using a pecta loose in large chunks of earth and rock from one wall of the tunnel. The sergeant watched for several minutes and then stepped forward into the circle of light from the man's lantern. Pull up your hands, Muldoon. Preston, what are you doing here? I was about to ask you the same thing, but I guess there's no need to. It's quite obvious. To rob your employer, just as you've been robbing her, ever since she took over the mine. No, no, you've got me all wrong, Sergeant. Don't lie, Muldoon. I wondered why the gold should start featuring out just at this particular time. Now I know. What do you mean? The Snow Queen mines just as rich as it ever was. But you covered up the biggest gold veins, so Miss Gilbert wouldn't know it existed. I suppose you've been coming down here at night all along, chipping away at the gold and covering up your traces before morning. You're pretty smart, Preston. But not smart enough! As Muldoon spoke, he swung his pick and a sudden vicious blow at the Sergeant's head. But the Sergeant sidestepped and at the same moment King charred. Help! Help! Get this dog away from me! Let's go with that pickin', King. I'll let you up. All right, all right. Let's go with it. All right, King. On guard, boy. Stand up, Muldoon. That's better. Now start marching and don't try any more false moves. Sergeant Preston marched his prisoner to the mine bunkhouse and held him there for the rest of the night under the watchful eyes of King. The following morning, he reported what had happened to Marsha Gilbert. So that's why the mine has been paying so poorly. I didn't take very much. Whether you took ten dollars or ten thousand doesn't matter. The point is, I relied on you because you worked for my uncle. Now I find you're just a common thief. Shall I arrest him, Miss Gilbert, or do you prefer not to prosecute? What do you advise, Sergeant? I doubt if you'll get your gold back, whatever you do. Furthermore, if you do press charges, you'll have to go to Dawson for the trial, which means you won't be here to keep an eye on the mine. Under the circumstances, I think you might as well let him go. Very well. I'll do as you say, Sergeant. You're fired, Mike, but I won't press charges. Get your things together over at the bunkhouse and get off my property within the next half hour. All right, all right. Time leaving right away. Why did you ask me whether I wanted to prosecute, Sergeant? I thought you'd arrest him automatically in a case like this. Ordinarily I would, but I had a reason for letting him go. What do you mean? Has it occurred to you that Muldoon's little game fitted in very neatly with Hasler's interests? I don't understand. By covering up the richest ore streak in your mine, Muldoon made it seem that the Snow Queen was in danger of petering out. It may be he was less interested in robbing you than he wasn't persuading you to accept Hasler's offer. You mean he's really been working for Hasler all along? It's possible. I think we'll find out for sure by letting Muldoon go free. How will we find out? When he leaves here, I'll tell him. I have a hunch he'll go straight to Hasler. Sergeant Preston's hunch proved correct. After leaving the Snow Queen mine, Muldoon went several miles down the creek on foot to the office of the Hasler Mining Syndicate. Martin Hasler, a heavy-set bearded man, was chewing on a cigar and talking to his henchman, Joe Galt. He looked up in surprise as Muldoon entered the office. Muldoon, what in thunder are you doing here? I've been fired. Fired? What for? I was down on the mine last night, chipping away at the main ore streak. The mountain caught me red-handed. You mean the same money that run me off the property yesterday? That's the one. Are you blundering fools? Was it my fault? How did I know he'd be spying on me? You should have used your head, that's how. This'll clear the whole deal. She'll never sell now that she's found out about that hidden vein. What are you going to do, boss? I'm afraid there's only one thing we can do. What's that? Get rid of Miss Marsha Gilbert. Once and for all. You mean killer? Let's not use that word kill. What we'll do is blow up her cabin at night. Now, if she happens to be inside at the time, well, that'll be just too bad. It'll be too bad, all right, for her. Only look, boss. Isn't that taken an awful chance? Oh, so? I mean that Mountie, Sergeant Preston. If anything happens to the dame, won't he suspect us right away? Yeah, that's right. You fellows are the first ones you'll think of. Now, wouldn't it be better to wait till he's out of the neighborhood? Don't worry about the Mountie. I've got ways of putting the quietess on him. Official ways. Besides, even if he does suspect us, there'll be no way of proving we did it. So long as we don't leave any clues, what do you want us to do? There's a girl sleep right there at the mine office. Yes, that's right. She uses the back room as her private living quarters. All right, then listen. The three of us will go over and scout the place tonight. If the coast is clear, we'll plant some dynamite right under the office wall. Enough to blast the building to splitters. And we'll light the fuse and make our getaway. How much dynamite should we use? We don't want to cave in the mine tunnel. We'll leave that to Muldoon. He knows all about blasting. Okay, I'll handle the dynamite. But you two better keep a good look out while I'm planting it. Don't worry about that. Just be ready to start at ten o'clock tonight. In the meantime, go on over to the bunk house and stow your duffel. Mike Muldoon left the syndicate office. At the door closed behind him, Joe Galt turned to Hassler and said, You sure Muldoon ain't right about that Monty? Maybe it would be smarter to wait till he's out of the neighborhood. Muldoon doesn't know it. But I'm counting on that Monty being around to investigate the explosion. Huh? What's the idea? Mike Muldoon just got fired this morning. That means he's got good cause for harboring a grudge against a Gilbert girl. What about it? When the Monty looks around for clues, suppose he finds Muldoon's body lying somewhere close by, maybe twenty or thirty yards from the blast, with scraps of wreckage littered all around him. Yeah, yeah, I'm beginning to get it. It'll look like Muldoon set the dynamite for revenge, but didn't use a long enough fuse. Before he could get away, the stuff exploded. And Muldoon got knocked out by flying wreckage. Knocked out? Or maybe even killed. How does it sound? You're a smart man, Hassler. A mighty smart man. Unknown to Hassler and his two henchmen, Sergeant Preston had trailed Muldoon down the creek to the syndicate office. Returning to the Snow Queen mine, the Monty reported what he had seen to Marsha Gilbert. Then you were right, Sergeant. He's been working for Hassler all along. Looks that way. In any case, he's on Hassler's side now. What do you suppose they'll do next? I don't know, but it may be something drastic. Why do you say that? Well, now that you know about that rich vein of gold, Hassler probably figures you'll hang on to the mine tighter than ever. You'll have to do something drastic to get it away from you. Yes, you're right. I never thought of that. Does the prospect scare you? Not a bit, Sergeant. Good. I'd rather think Hassler will overstep himself on his next move. When that happens, we'll have him right where we want him. Are you going to stay here at the mine till he shows his hand? No, I don't think I'd better that might scare them off. However, I will camp in the hills where I can keep an eye on things. And I'll have King patrol your property at night. In that case, I certainly won't worry. You know, I have almost as much faith in King as I do them out at police. Marsha Gilbert had gone to bed, and the cluster of buildings at the Snow Queen Mine were shrouded in darkness. Only the northern lights flaming across the sky relieved the gloom of the Yukon night, as Martin Hassler and his two companions approached their destination. What about the dynamite, Muldoon? Are you sure you brought enough to do the job right? Don't worry. I've got just the right charge. When the blast goes off, the mine office will be blown to smithereens, but the tunnel will hardly be touched or just make sure the fuse is plenty long. We don't want the stuff going off in our faces. At that moment, King was patrolling the wooded slope just in back of the mine buildings. His keen ears caught the rustle of underbrush and the faint whisper of voices in the distance. Pricking up his ears, he trotted forward in the direction of the sound. A moment later, the shifting wind conveyed to his nostrils the scent of human beings. Instantly, the great dog charged down the slope. Hey, what's that? It was Gault who first heard King's snarls and saw the charging husky loom up out of the darkness. It's a watchdog. Look out. It'll make too much noise. Get him off of me. Do something. King's first assault had knocked Gault off his feet. A second later, he turned to deal with Hastler, who was kicking at him wildly, fearful of the husky's slashing fangs. Meanwhile, Muldoon had dropped the sticks of dynamite he was carrying and was running toward the mine entrance, where he knew a pile of loose lumber was stacked. He snatched up a heavy piece of wood. This'll fix him. Returning to the scuffle, he found Gault and Hastler struggling planically to ward off the dog's savage lunges. Look out. I'll get him. Husky whirled just as Muldoon swung his two by four. The blow struck King on the head, leaving him dazed and bleeding. Again, Muldoon swung, and this time the great dog sank to the ground unconscious. Good work, Muldoon. What do we do now, boss? Muldoon, you gather up the dynamite, plant it under the mine office like we planned. All right, all right. Gault, you stick around here, keep a lookout in this direction. Right. I'll go over on the other side of the mine buildings and keep a lookout on that side. And while I'm at it, I'll listen in here if anyone starts moving around in the bunkhouse. Now wait. What happens when I'm through planting the dynamite? When you're finished, come and get me. I'll be standing by that big pine over near the bunkhouse. And we'll circle back and join Gault on this side. Is that understood? Yes. Hi, Sammy. Me too. And don't forget, Muldoon, make that fuse plenty long. A short time before King attacked the three crooks, Sergeant Preston had left his camp and headed toward the Snow Queen Mine. He intended to inspect the area periodically throughout the night to make sure that all was well. As the Sergeant neared the mine, Gault heard his footsteps approaching through the darkness. The crook ducked hastily out of sight behind a clump of rocks. Holy smoke. It's the Mountie. For a moment, Gault's hand strayed toward his gun. And then he realized that the noise of a shot would ruin Hassler's carefully laid scheme. But he knew too that he must act quickly before the Mountie discovered his companions. As Sergeant Preston passed directly in front of his hiding place, Gault sprang out at the Mountie. I'll fix you, Muldoon. Yeah, that's me and how do you like this? The crook sudden attack caught Sergeant Preston off guard and he staggered under the impact of Gault's terrific punch. But he recovered quickly and smashed back at his assailants. You should keep your left up, Gault. Gault struck out savagely, but this time Sergeant Preston blocked the blow. But now he slashed back. For the next few minutes, the two men slugged it out toe to toe. Gradually, Gault weakened under the Sergeant's punishment. Twice he went down and as he picked himself up the second time, Sergeant Preston said, Well, what about it? You had enough? Yeah, yeah, I've had enough, Marty. Don't hit me again. With his attention concentrated on the fight, Sergeant Preston had failed to hear Hassler and Muldoon sneaking up behind him. Now as Gault struggled weakly to his feet, Hassler stepped forward and brought the Bonneville revolvers smashing down in the Mountie's head. You've got here just in time, Hassler. What are we going to do with the Mountie now that you've knocked him out? Well, I'll tell you, Muldoon, we're going to do the same thing with him that we're going to do with you. You knocked Muldoon out, too. Yeah, this was as good a time as any. Now we'll have to drag him both over near the mine office. You're going to fix it until the Mountie gets blown up, too? It's the only thing we can do. Come on, hurry up, give me a hand. That fuse isn't going to burn forever. Yeah. Gault half-dragged, half-carried the limp body of Sergeant Preston, while Hassler did the same with Muldoon. The mine foreman's body was deposited about 20 yards from the mine office. Then Hassler lifted the sergeant's leg. Here, I'll help you carry the Mountie. Where do you want him put? Right up next to the mine office, near the dynamite. What's the idea? We want to make sure Muldoon can be recognized. With the Mountie, it doesn't matter. In fact, it'll suit me fine if he's blown to bits. Okay, all right, lay him down right here. Yeah. Hey, look at that fuse, boss. It's almost burned down to the end. Come on, let's get out of here. Meanwhile, the Great Dog King was stirring painfully at the spot where the three crooks had left him. As consciousness came flooding back, the dog's instinct told him that his master was in danger. He sprang up and began running back and forth frantically, seeking to pick up the sergeant's scent. Suddenly, King's ears caught the sound of running feet, and a second later, his nostrils picked up the scent he was looking for. The Great Dog sprinted forward. Wherely, King circled past the two men running side by side through the darkness. Guided by his nostrils, he headed straight for the spot where he knew his master must be lying. A moment later, he saw the sergeant's body, and close by it, the sputtering fuse. King knew the meaning of such an object from past experience, and instinctively, he tramped out the fuse with his trail heart and paws. Then he turned to the sergeant and began licking his face. A safe distance away, Galt and Hassler stood waiting in vain for the unexpected explosion. Finally, Galt spoke. That dynamite should have gone off long ago. Something must have gone wrong. When we dumped Preston, there wasn't more than 30 seconds left in that fuse. What do you suppose happened? The fuse fizzled out. That's what happened. Come on, we'll have to go back and light it again. Sergeant Preston was just coming to as Galt and Hassler approached the building. In the darkness, the two crooks failed to realize what was happening until they were less than 10 yards away. Hey, look, Hassler, it's the Mountie's dog. Yeah, you're right. Then the Mounties getting up on his feet. I'll soon fix that. Galt reached for his gun, but before he could draw, King charged toward him at lightning speed. The revolver was barely out of his holster, when the great dog leapt on the crook, knocking the gun from his hand. A second later, the other crook recovered from his confusion and made a frantic effort to draw. I'll get him. But by this time, Sergeant Preston was on his feet. As Hassler reached for his gun, the Mountie fired from the hip. Ah, ma'am! Call your dog off, Preston. All right, King, let him up on you on guard. Get up on your feet, Galt. Yeah, all right, all right. Just don't let that dog get any closer. Who's that lying over there on the ground? Is that Muldoon? Yeah, it's him, all right. If he's dead, you'll both hang. He's not dead. He's just unconscious. We were going to wait till after the explosion, and then... Shut up, you fools! So you were planning an explosion, eh? I suppose you intended to blow me up along with Miss Gilbert, and then leave Muldoon's body nearby so it would look like his work. It wasn't my idea. It was Hassler's. He planned the whole thing. You sniveling polecat. It doesn't matter who planned it. You were both in on it, and you'll both stand trial for attempted murder. You're under arrest in the name of the Queen. Rest in you must have been born under a lucky star. If that dynamite fuse hadn't fizzled out, you'd be in kingdom calm this minute. Huh? I didn't know it had such a close call. But what makes you so sure the fuse fizzled out? Oh, it must have. Nobody put it out. I wonder if King didn't have something to do with that. Well, fellow, I suppose I'll never know for sure. But I can tell you one thing, boy. I'm mighty glad this case is closed. Now, here's Sergeant Preston with a preview of our next adventure. The case King takes over. The man who murdered Mike Cramer's friend, Sam, left a trail that even a chichaco could have followed. Mike and I were sure we could bring the killer to justice without any trouble at all. You see, I trusted Mike. I didn't know that he was in on the murder scheme, and at his job, he was in on the murder scheme. Be sure to listen to this exciting adventure, Wednesday. These radio dramas, a feature of the challenge of the Yukon Incorporated, are created and produced by George W. Trendall, directed by Fred Flower Day and edited by Fran Stryker. The part of Sergeant Preston is played by Paul Sutton. They have brought you every Wednesday until September when we shall resume our next adventure. The part of Sergeant Preston is played by Paul Sutton. They have brought you every Wednesday until September when we shall resume our regular Monday, Wednesday and Friday broadcasts. This is J. Michael wishing you good-bye and good luck till next Wednesday.