Narrator/Sergeant Preston (17:01)
He knew the law would be after him. Chief, Lou's run away with all our money. That pretty bad Indian not think so, huh? He means the Indians will think we're lying if we tell him he isn't here. Well, let them search the place. That would be dangerous. Remember, we're dealing with Tagish. I know the way his mind works. He's using this murder as an excuse to start a full scale insurrection. Him say this land belonged to Indian. Indians must make law. Drive all others out. You see? Let them in here. And they'd kill us all and loot the post. After the young braves had a taste of looting Tagish would march them onto Grand Ledge. But what can we do? Leave the post and let them loot it? No, Johnny. Board up the windows and fight them off. For how long? We don't have much ammunition. I'll get word to Dawson. How? By King. One word is all he'll need. Headquarters. He should be able to get there in three hours. I'll write a note, stick it in his collar. I'll ask the inspector for every man he can spare. Do you have a pencil and paper handy? On the table. Get to work on those windows. Right, Sergeant. The sergeant's note was written and tied firmly to King's collar. Then the Great dog was sent on his way. Headquarters. King. The Great Dog raced across the clearing. Now for the windows. All the windows in the post. Two in the store. One on either side in the bedrooms. The two in the kitchen were boarded up completely except for a small opening to sight and shoot through. Ammunition cases were opened and all the available rifles were loaded. The preparations for the defense were completed. Mrs. Hamilton, arguing her long experience with a rifle in the west, insisted on taking her post at the window in her bedroom. Johnny was assigned to the store, Harry to the other bedroom, and the sergeant stayed in the kitchen. A constant watch was kept on every angle of the wide clearing in which the post was centered. Soon the Indians made their appearance at the edge of the forest at the rear of the post. The sergeant called everyone into the kitchen. There only seemed to be about 15, 20 at the most. The young braves where Margo spoke of. Give us Wilson. Give us the man who killed Naku. Wilson isn't here. I'm telling you the truth. This is Sergeant Preston. Go back to your village. Wilson will be found and arrested. Leave him to the law. Doggishes work. He refuses to. Let them listen. Hold your fire. Wait until you have a target before you shoot. Cognies. To persuade them to charge, they must 50 yards of open ground before they reach us. We can stop them. That takes care of one of them. Here they come. All of them. The first charge was driven back after three Indians had been shot. There was another lull, this one lasting nearly half an hour. And from the movement of the Indians in the forest, it could be seen that Tagish meant to shift his attack to the front of the post. As a result, the defenders were in position when the Indians broke from the COVID of the trees once more. This time they nearly reached the post. Before they faltered and turned back. Six more Indians lay on the ground, not dead but wounded. Hold your fire. And the sergeant ordered a cease fire while they crawled back to the COVID of the trees. Soon two campfires could be seen through the trees. The Indians seemed to be settling down for a siege. That's. Yeah. The ammunition's getting low. The longer they wait, the more chance there is of relief getting here in time. The fresh snowfall cut down King's speed and it was not until 10 o' clock that he reached Dawson and raced down Front street toward headquarters. The sergeant had given him two commands that evening. One was to find the man who owned the white fox, Parker. The other was to go to headquarters. In King's mind, each were equally important. And when he caught the scent of the man in the crowd of miners on the street, he ran straight toward him. Lou Wilson was heading for the cabin of a friend where he meant to spend the night. He was startled when King suddenly barred his way, barking defiance, but only for a moment. Get out of the way, you mutt. Get out of the way. King refused to budge and barked even more frantically. A crowd gathered around the man and the dog and soon Constable Downey pushed his way through. What's going on here? This dog's trying to kill me. It's King. What's the matter, boy? Where's the sergeant? You. That dog should be locked up or shot. He's a menace. King wouldn't annoy you unless he has a good reason. What's your name? Lou hesitated. There were several men in the crowd who knew him by sight, so he had to tell the truth. It's Lou Wilson. Wish I knew what you were trying to tell me, King, but since I don't, there's nothing to do. But what's that tied to your collar? A note. That's from the sergeant. The constable read the note by the light from a cafe window. The size and appeal for help. It described the shooting which had led up to the crisis at the trading post. Your name is Lou Wilson and you've been working for Johnny Hamilton. No, I'm a prospector. You're lying. You're under arrest. You're coming to headquarters of me. Shortly before midnight, Taggy led a series of attacks on the trading post. When the last of them had been repulsed, the defenders ammunition was almost gone. Everyone inside the post knew the next attack must be the last. It was a long time in coming. Johnny and his mother sat near the stove, their heads bowed, their eyes closed. The sergeant stood guard at the window while Harry was writing something at the kitchen table. He finished, folded the paper and rose from his chair. Sergeant. See. Yes, Harry? Will you witness my signature? I just made my will. Of course. Thank you. Now, would you keep it for me? If anything happens to you, the same thing will happen to me. One never can tell. This is just in case. Very well. I'll keep it for you. You're tired, Sergeant. Let me stand guard a while. I'm all right. We depend on your shooting, Sergeant. Give your eyes a few minutes rest. Well, just a few minutes. All right. Call me if you see anything, anything at all. As you, Sergeant drew another chair up to the stove. He closed his eyes only to rest them, but the warmth of the stove and his fatigue were too much for him. He fell asleep. He had no idea how long he slept, but he was awakened by the shouts of the Indians. Both Johnny and he jumped to their feet. They're coming again. Where's Harry? Perhaps he's in the store. The two men ran to the windows. There. Halfway across the clearing, they saw a man wearing a white fox parka walking toward the forest. That's Harry.
