James Marvin Alvey came to his senses slowly. He sat up, dizzily, discovered that his face was caked with blood, and that his left ankle was broken and swollen. He was cold. The wall of a mountain canyon rose above him, and a red airplane lay smashed on the rocks beside him. He began to remember what had happened.
He had been going to Denver to see his brother. Martin Mitzkus, his boss on the ranch at Forsyth, Mont., had offered to fly him there. They had stopped overnight at Casper, Wyo., had started out again in the morning. Ranch-hand...
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