 The challenge of the Yukon. Honking! The Wonder 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 modern 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. It was midwinter and in the library of the large house in New York City, two men were talking. Wallace Peters stood with his back to the fireplace. His fists clenched deep in the pockets of his coat. In front of him, Alfred Frank sat quietly, his fleshy face appearing both satisfied and sympathetic. It was a shock that killed her. Well, Wally, you shouldn't take this too hard. After all, you have your son to think of. You made sure Mary heard about it, too. I'm sorry. It was a slip of the tongue. You know how much I thought of her. Why would a spare day be possible, Wally? I could have kept my tongue out after I said it while he believed me. Too bad you didn't. Now, wait a minute, old man. You're not yourself. I know all this has been blew to you, but... Yes, you're right. It has been a blow to me. One after the other. First, the business crashing. Crashing because I took your advice about investments. But everyone can make mistakes. I lost money myself. It was bad judgment and... Well, you didn't have to accept my advice. But I did. I accepted it because I trusted you. You've always known I had no business head. You knew that in college. I'm ruined. Ruined, you hear? Lost everything that could be written on the black side of the books. You'll get back on your feet, borrow some cash. No, no. What I lost was my own. I'm down, but I'm not mortgaged. But that's business, man. Be sensible. You take a loss once, you make it up the next time. It's all in the game. Not in my game, it isn't. I'm through. I've got sense enough to see it. Sense enough to see a lot of other things I never thought of before. Well... Yes, oh. I'm going to give this to you straight, Al. Because I'm not the kind that can say one thing and think another. You killed my wife. What? You killed her just as surely as if you'd pushed her down those steps. You're out of your mind. Out of my mind. You're out of your mind, weren't you, when you said that even the house would have to go up a sale? Everything Mary lived for. Everything that had any meaning for her. My friend. My friend who wasn't content to ruin me. Oh, he had to make sure I'd lose everything. Everything. I won't listen to you while in. You'd better get some rest. You'll feel better about it. You'll listen to me all right? Because once I've got this off my mind, so far as I'm concerned, you'll never have to listen to me again. You'll be sorry for this. I can see it all now. When we were both courting her, you were as much in love with her as I was. Weren't you? Yes. I guess I was. Sure you were. But she didn't marry you. She married me. I wasn't good enough for her. I knew it. She was so far above me, I didn't think I stood a chance. You were in her class, Al. You were with all the right clubs. You were the pedigree that goes back to the Mayflower. All the money of Wall Street behind you. What are you driving at? Just this. I tried to make her happy. I tried to do everything she wanted me to. I was doing all right. Except for you. Except that you never forgave her for marrying me instead of you. You're crazy. Oh, no, I'm not crazy. You decided you'd take away everything that was important to marry. Money. All the things she was used to having. Sure, you advised me. Sure, you lost money, too. You could afford to lose a couple of hundred thousand, but I couldn't. You weren't content to ruin me. Oh, you had to tell her. You had to watch the expressions on her face. You had to watch her turn, pay or lose her footing and reach out for something to save her. Only the fall, headlong... You're going too far, Wally. I never want to see you again. Get out of this house. Go on, get out. I'll remember this. I hope you'll never forget it. I won't. Believe me, I'll see to it that you'll never do either. Arranging for his sister to take care of the baby, Wallace Peters left New York as the house in the city was posted for sale. He had an immeasurable sense of loss that was with him no matter where he went or what he did. His skin burned and shriveled with the heat and malaria of the tropics. In waterfront saloons in Singapore or the Argentine, he had the appearance of countless other drifters, purposeless and weary. And then, one day shortly after the news of the discovery of gold on what was North America's last frontier, Alfred Frock, grown fat and heavy jowled, sat talking in his office to the young man who was his secretary. You can start getting the luggage together immediately. Everything will lead. Listen, that flyer you took in South America was all right. Down there we just had to put up with heat and bugs. I don't know anything about this place except that it's cold and a death trap for men who aren't used to the climate. It might be a death trap for other men, but it'll never be one for me. Well, you can send somebody else. Buddy, you are going with me. I may need you, you understand. You and I appreciate each other's myth. Yeah, but I... No buts about it either. I have a reason for going to the Yukon. A good one. In a way, it's a personal score, I want to settle. What do you mean? You've heard me speak about Wally Peters. Peters? Well, sure. Haven't I been checking up on every move he's made these last 15 years? I got a very interesting letter this morning. Peters is in the Yukon. I never did know why you wanted to keep track of him. Wally's found himself as rich a piece of property as any man has ever uncovered. Rich and mighty than you can imagine. Lucky, huh? That all depends on what you call luck. It'll be bad luck for him. Good for us. As long as he went the way of a bum, I let him alone. But now... Now it's stay. I want that gold mine. I'm going to get it, personally. A month later... ...at the small cabin that withstood the icy blasts of wind whipping outside it... ...Wally Peters, swamp in a chair looking bitterly at the two men standing in front of him. His face was bruised and swollen. His hands were tied, the rope cutting his wrists. That's enough, Marty. Have you had enough, my friend? I've met a lot of men who are rotten. But you aren't worth a rat powder to take to kill you. You deserve pretty strong words, Wally. And foolish ones for a man in your position. Too bad you don't look at this the way I do. Your name on the dotted line is all I want. You'll never get it. All right, Marty. You said this country was a dead trap, Marty. So it will be for our friend here. Pick him up and put one to sleep. We'll throw him off along the trail, and when he's found... ...it'll look like an accident. Several hours had passed when Sergeant Preston halted his dogs beside the figure on the trail. The Monty revived Wally Peters and listened to the story the man told. Quietly, the great dog King stood close to his master. That's the story, Sergeant. They're at the cabin now. You've got to get back to town. He'd be here to kill us both if he knew you found me. Easy now. You need rest. How long did he keep you a prisoner? Three days. Sergeant, there's no time to waste. I'm going to put you on the sled. Here, let me help you. You go back to town. I have my snowshoes. I can make them in a couple of hours. But you... I'll go to the cabin and see this man, Alfred Frank. Your dogs. I won't be able to manage them. I'll lead them. In that way, I'll be sure you'll make it to town safely. Be careful. Don't worry. Sergeant Preston's approach to the cabin had been watched. As he stood talking to Alfred Frank, the Monty was unaware of the man standing in the shadows behind him. I've visited the Monty policeman who had him a little surprised. Yes, I imagine you are. You're Alfred Frank. That's right, Sergeant. Mr. Frank, I'll come right to the point. I just found Wally Peters on the trail about a mile from the cabin. Wally Peters? Well, I didn't... He's, uh... He all right. He was able to talk if that's what you're wondering. Oh. There you see. Needless to say, I'll have to put you under arrest for attempted murder. I hadn't found him when I did. He would have died of exposure. There must be some mistake. No, no mistake. This is his cabin. You're occupying it. Everything is pretty much as he said it was. Now, where's the other man he spoke of? What did you put out? What do we do, Al? You rid of him? I don't know. Wait till I have a chance to talk to him. When the Monty regained consciousness, he'd been disarmed. Marty stood beside him holding a gun menacingly while Al Frank slowly paced the floor. You see, Sergeant, that's how it is. I'll meet any price you ask to, uh, forget this unforeseeable chance. You've bought your way out of situations before I take it. Well, more of what you say. You can't bribe me, Frank. Yeah. Maybe I'll inform. Hmm? What's that, Al? The model of the North West might please maintain right. You'll never make any money on the force, Sergeant. A man with your ability and intelligence should travel with any amount of wealth at his fingertips. You're hardly in a position to have much choice, you know? I told you before you can't bribe me, and you can't scare me either. It's my duty to take you in. Hmm, a foolish attitude to take. Well, I did my best anyway. That water's boiling, Marty. I'll take the gun. You get some tea ready. The only pan I see here's this wide one. All right, use that. Two men aren't used to the rugged life, hmm? Need any help? He can manage. The mountain sat silently, his eyes and the man awkwardly making tea. At the same time, he was conscious of every move Al Frank made. For the man holding the gun stood beside him, a deep frown on his face. Preston wondered if Wally Peters had made it back to town. He knew his dogs would carry him safely, but would Peters be able to tell what had happened when he got there? Would Peters be able to send help? Or would he assume Preston was all right? Carefully, Marty Renwick carried the pan of tea to the wooden table. In the corner of his eye, the policeman watched Al Frank, and then casually rose from his chair. I'd like a drink of that tea if you don't mind. Sure, I'll have some myself. As Sergeant Preston turned to reach for a cup, apparently by accident his arm bumped the hand holding the gun, and as Al Frank swayed for a moment, his hand almost touching the pan of tea, he dropped the revolver. The steaming tea splashed. My hand, you fool. The tea burned my hand. Marty, the gun, get the gun. Yeah, sure. It splashed and burned your hand, so you want me to reach in and pull it out? Then get the gun for my macadam. Don't step back. Stay where you are, Marty. You're in a good spot to stop what they call a hammy. Yeah, sure you can. King, King, old boy. Need any help, Sergeant? Well, it looks like you got those two pretty much where you were. Sam, how'd you get here? All right, and I've got that gun from your macadam, Mr. Frank. Put the handcuffs on him, Sam. Yeah. You law and order commissioner certainly managed to show up at the right time. We managed to show up? Well, I can't, Sergeant. That dare dog of yours wouldn't give me no peace. I harnessed up the dogs and set out here with him leading away. You all right, Sergeant? Wally, I thought I told you to go into three forks and stay there. I couldn't stay there knowing you were here with that rat. I wouldn't trust him any further than I could throw him. Well, it looks like the score's even now, Al. All right, you win. I win. You couldn't let me alone, could you? You heard I struck it rich, and that my son and I would have more money than I ever lost. So you couldn't rest. You started this, and the sergeant here finished it. It seems that you are finished, too. Entierledois. Right has been maintained. Yes, King. 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're sent to you each week at the same time. Jack McCarthy speaking.