Sergeant Preston of the Yukon

Sgt. Preston:
I arrest you in the name of the Crown.

Sgt. Preston:
Well, King, this case is closed.

Announcer:
Sergeant Preston of the Northwest Mounted Police with Yukon King, swiftest and strongest lead dog breaking the trail in the relentless pursuit of lawbreakers, in the wild days of the Yukon. Back to the days of the Gold Rush, as Sergeant Preston, with his wonder dog, Yukon King, meets the challenge of the Yukon. [map of Yukon Territory appears on screen] This is the Yukon . . .

Narrator:
This is the Yukon, in Arctic winter. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Where even the agonizing cold failed to halt the feverish search for gold.

Sgt. Preston:
I can't bring the doctor here, Yekesha. He'd be killed!

Yekesha:
We must help them!

Sgt. Preston:
Even if Dr. Warren were willing to risk it, your people in their ignorance may refuse his help.

Yekesha:
Then do what you will, but at least I must free you!

Narrator:
This is the Yukon, he territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A man's country, where those few women who dared to brave its hardships asked no favors but equality and no boon but love. Rosebud, about 40 miles south of Dawson as the Yukon flows, where old Eben Atwater owned and operated his fabulous Rose No. 1 mine.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. The land of the great stampede for gold. A land overrun by adventurers hardy enough to endure the rugged wilderness in their quest for sudden riches.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon - the territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Beautiful, fascinating, deadly. Like a siren that lured men on to undreamed-of wealth, or to the cold embrace of unexpected death.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Where a man might come to make his fortune and remain to learn that the loyalty and courage of his dog team are worth far more than their weight in gold.

Mrs. Karp:
If we're taking the girl with us, we'll have to hide her.

Martin:
Now it's your turn, Mrs. Karp. Get in the closet.

Mrs. Karp:
You've tricked me!

Martin:
Heh, heh, heh. So I have. Now, do as I say! I'm a desperate man, Mrs. Karp. And don't forget, I can only hang once!

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A vast country of scattered mining camps where gold many times turned a selfish man into a ruthless miser.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon in Arctic winter. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Land of human sacrifice to the great god "gold."

Jane Cushing:
Larry doesn't like weapons. Hates to kill anything. That's why I'm sure he's innocent.

Sgt. Preston:
Well, that agrees with our records.

Jane Cushing:
Have you found something... something that can help us?

Sgt. Preston:
Well, possibly. But don't raise your hopes too high, Mrs. Cushing.

Jane Cushing:
Nothing left but hope!

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A harshly beautiful country where men and women who have come only to find gold sometimes remain to find something far more valuable. Strength of character and a way of life.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon - the territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A land of sturdy adventurers prepared to fight man and nature for the prize of prizes - gold!

Jim Masters:
I have a right to ask. Whitey stole my poke!

Sgt. Preston:
Have you got proof of that statement, Masters?

Jim Masters:
I've got Mr. Barton's word for it. That's enough for me.

Sgt. Preston:
Well, it's not good enough for the law, Masters. According to the law, a man is innocent until proven guilty. If Whitey's guilty, he'll be punished according to the law, not by any kangaroo court. That's my job. [Addresses crowd] Now, all of you go home. I'll be around later to talk to you.

Jim:
I could have stopped them, Sergeant, but I let them go.

Sgt. Preston:
But why?

Jim:
My own brother. I've never lifted a finger before to help him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I had.

Mary:
Oh, Pop!

Jim:
Now, I suppose you're going to arrest me, Sergeant.

Sgt. Preston:
We'll talk about that later. In any case, they can't get far. I think I know where I can intercept them if I hurry. I hope you never have to regret what you've done, Jim!

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. An area so vast and remote that sometimes isolated mining camps found it necessary to curb the criminal with their own rough brand of justice. Goneaway Creek, a lonely and newly-established mining camp was just such a place.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon in Arctic winter. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A raw, untutored land where the courage of a thin red line of Northwest Mounted Police became a bulwark of law and order. Herschel Island in the Beaufort Sea: Gathering spot for whaling ships during the summer months, but almost deserted in winter.

Rafe:
[Dictates to Sergeant Preston] Address it to Miss Lillian Russell, Hotel Astor, New York City.

Sgt. Preston:
[Addresses letter] Rafe, do you really know Lillian Russell?

Rafe:
No, uh, but once I saw her picture in a Police Gazette!

Sgt. Preston:
[Finishes writing] Well, here you are, Rafe. All set to mail to Miss Russell.

Rafe:
Thanks a lot, sergeant. As soon as I get another $10,000 in my poke, I'm gonna learn to read and write for myself!

Sgt. Preston:
You say this man gave you a warning?

Sam:
Oh, clear as a bell. Get back or I'll shoot!

Sgt. Preston:
Did you recognize his voice? Ever hear it before?

Sam:
At first, I thought I had, but it couldn't be. He's no more crazy than I am, but it sounded like the veterinary, Tom Elders.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon in Arctic winter. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Where men, like the land itself, sometimes conceal unexpected qualities beneath a forbidding exterior.

Nils Narvik:
Got it straight from Indian Joe. The treaty was almost concluded when he left the fort. Fitzwilliams'll bring it in, you can bet on that.

Pete Dexter:
Maybe he got caught in that last storm. Maybe he's dead on the trail somewhere.

Nils Narvik:
You better hope so. Those trapping grounds are the best you and Ben ever had. Indians take 'em over, you're finished, Dexter!

Pete Dexter:
You too, Narvik! You'll never get rich off of what these boys around here bring in.

Sgt. Preston:
Who's to judge a man if he faces the choice between his duty and bringing tragedy to someone he loves? Unless a man is true to himself, Lee, as well as his duty, he also may not be true to his own wife.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon in Arctic winter. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Where the code of the trail greets every man as friend, and where sometimes the code is betrayed.

Horace Bean:
Someday, someone's gonna make a camera you can put in your back pocket!

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A land so harsh and wild that no man can live long in it and remain the same. It will either make him or break him. Yukon Camp, 15 miles west of Dawson, where a remittance man and an old sourdough learned this fact the hard way.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon - the territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A land bleak and cruel to the outsider. A land which seldom offers a second chance after a first mistake.

Sgt. Preston:
That new telegraph line is a great help to the whole force. From Dawson to White Horse. Orders and wanted bulletins with descriptions that used to take days to get out can now be sent in minutes. Should be a great crime deterrent.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Where man and nature combine pitilessly to defeat the weak and the artless.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A vast area, sparsely settled by men and women of various origins and opinions, but all burning with the same desire - gold! Cathedral Falls, far to the north, was no exception.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Where neither the sub-zero temperatures nor blinding snows of winter stay the Northwest Mounted Policeman from his sworn duty to protect the innocent. And in the case of the guilty, to get his man.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon - the territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Where during the long, bitter winter, the men of the Northwest Mounted Police fought an unceasing battle against raging nature and the violence of human nature.

Capt. Barry Arnold:
[Pats King's head] And you, old fellow, anytime you get tired of the Northwest Mounted, you come around to the United States Marines.

Sgt. Preston:
Well, King already believes in your motto. Semper Fidelis - always faithful. So I doubt whether he'll ever leave us.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon - the territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A territory where the insatiable lust for gold tortured the souls of those in high places as well as low, of a government administrator as well as a sourdough down on his luck.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon - scene of the most fabulous gold rush in history. Never has there been a more colorful era of pioneering. In their vivid quest for riches, men from all walks of life swept northward by the countless thousands. Dawson - the hub of the gold fields, with hordes of miners and prospectors scattered along the surrounding creeks. But all of those who came to the Yukon did not occupy their time digging for gold. There were men like Cris Darby who had found other ways of acquiring a fortune.

Hod:
Do we have to kill Louie?

Slocum:
You want him to recover and tell all he knows? You want to do 20 years, or get lynched for robbing the cache?

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A harsh country that molded human souls. Weeding out the weaklings, leaving only the strong and courageous to carry on in the struggle for gold and power.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon - the territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. A rugged winter land of golden dreams, where human jackals preyed upon the luckier few hoping to reap an ill-gotten fortune.

Inspector Carmichael:
Sergeant, your offer places me in an embarrassing position. Frankly, I believe you'd put me at a disadvantage. That red tunic of yours would scare off anyone for miles.

Sgt. Preston:
Well, you may be right in one respect. But this "tunic" is a warning to the lawless that no matter where they go, justice is not far away. It's probably saved more lives than armor plate and done more to bring peace to the Yukon than all the guns of her majesty's army. We may be younger than Scotland Yard, but we also have our tradition.

Inspector Carmichael:
Tradition?

Sgt. Preston:
Yes, Inspector, we have our tradition also. A Mountie always gets his man!

Narrator:
The story Alice Burns told Sergeant Preston made him realize he was confronted with his strangest case. A year after Dennis was born, Alice's husband Tim Burke had left her. When she later read in the newspaper that Tim Burke had been sent to prison for armed robbery, she changed her name to Burns and moved to the Yukon. Now, after all these years, a cruel trick of fate had brought Burke back into their lives.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon in Arctic winter. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Where the boundary between Alaska and Canada often meant much more to the criminal than a division of two countries. Eagle, Alaska a few miles from the United States border. The Northwest Mounted Police had received reports that men were smuggling tobacco across the border into the Yukon.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. Stationed here in this far-flung wilderness, a handful of Northwest Mounted Police became a symbol of wisdom and integrity, as well as the representatives of law and order.

Narrator:
This is the Yukon. The territory patrolled by Sergeant Preston. In winter, a wonderland of deceptive beauty waiting to snare the unwary in its icy grip.

Rye Poley:
[Holds violin] I, uh, shouldn't turn this over to anyone but Jim Dallas. It's very valuable.

Hunch Miller:
We bought the pawn ticket.

Rye Poley:
Well, have you got a bill of sale or a receipt?

Shanto:
No, he didn't give us one.

Rye Poley:
Well, in that case, I'm sorry!

Conway:
Seems to me there's a powerful lot of fuss being made about one no-account Indian.

Sgt. Preston:
When a man's been killed, Conway, we're not concerned with the color of his skin or his family tree. We just want to know why! May take a day, it may take a month. But even if it takes a year, I intend to find out why.

Sgt. Preston:
Well, King, this case is closed.