Flying over the barren waste of the Alaska Peninsula, surrounded by a heavy fog that blotted out the desolate, treeless, uninhabited shores below, two aviators, speeding westward, crashed against a mountain side. Miraculously uninjured, they picked themselves from the wreck of their plane and started on a search for life, warmth, food. For seven days they labored across that rough, uneven country. At the end of a week they came to a trapper's cabin on the southern tip of Port Moller Bay, nearly at the end of the peninsula. From this haven...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
