It was the time of year when prospectors and trappers were in saloons, laying bets on the hour when the chinook wind would sweep suddenly through the Yukon, breaking up the iced rivers and lakes, and bringing spring to the land of snow and high winds. Sergeant Preston had camped along the trail about a day's journey from Half Mile. Darkness was still an hour away, and he and the great dog King were in high spirits as they looked about them...