Buried Alive! Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Denali’s dogs are absolutely unique,” he said. “Think about it. Snow machines have parts that break down or freeze up. They pollute. They’re loud. Sled dogs are none of those things, which makes them a much better choice for our pristine back-country.” Wiggling his shaggy eyebrows, he added, “And in my opinion the dogs are a heck of a lot more fun. You can’t cuddle up with a snow machine.”
    â€œHow come you call them snow machines instead of snowmobiles?”
    Blake shrugged. “Everyone up north calls them ‘snow machines.’ Can’t tell you why. They’re the same things as snowmobiles, though. Hey,” he interrupted himself, “would you two like something to drink? I have a couple extra bottles of water.”
    Both Jack and Olivia shook their heads. “We have our own, thanks,” Olivia told him. “Speaking of water, Blake, I had a question, too. How do you keep so many animals hydrated? I was sitting here doing the math, and I can’t figure out how you manage it. Four quarts per day per dog times what,” Olivia asked, squinting, “eight dogs? That’s a whole lot of water.”
    Jack thought he knew the answer to this one. “They eat snow, like Blake said.”
    â€œI wish that was all it took,” Blake replied. He twisted the cap back onto the water bottle and set it onto the floor. Right then they hit another pocket of air, making the bottle tip over and spin to the back of the plane like a top. “Ah, just leave it,” Blake commanded when he saw that Jack was about to retrieve the bottle. He went on to tell them it took ten to fifteen gallons of snow to melt into one gallon of water. In the meantime, he would have to unpack the sled, bring in the harnesses to dry, and check the dogs’ feet for cuts before finally feeding his animals. “There’s a rule in the north, and that rule is Dogs Eat First. After taking care of all that and attending to a few more tasks, I get to eat.”
    Once again Jack thought how hard it was to be a ranger in the Park Service. Their jobs seemed both physically and mentally tough, and yet every ranger he’d ever met loved life in the parks. It almost seemed that being a ranger was a calling, a vocation, like choosing to be a priest or a missionary. Well, in a way, all rangers were missionaries. It was as if the wilderness was their church, the animals their congregation. He turned that thought over as their plane banked sharply to the left. They were about to land at Kantishna.
    A low mountain emerged to the north, and at its base he noticed the frozen branch of Moose Creek glinting in the sun. Parallel to the creek ran an airstrip, one of the smallest Jack had ever seen. Brush lined both sides of it. Jack had never been nervous in a plane before, but there was a first time, he supposed, for everything. His stomach clamped as the small plane dipped toward the narrow runway.
    When the plane nosed down, Jack squeezed his eyes shut until he felt a thud as the plane’s skis touched snow, then settled into a long glide along the strip. It was then Jack opened his eyes and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The roar of the engines cut to a whine as they glided to the end of the runway.
    â€œIt’s a bit primitive,” Blake laughed as he unbuckled his seat belt. “But we haven’t lost a ranger yet. You look a bit pale there, Jack. You OK?”
    â€œI’m fine,” Jack lied.
    After the pilot, Eric, stopped the plane, Blake jumped out and put down a footstool for the rest of them to step on. After they were all safely on the ground, Eric steered the aircraft off the runway to make room for the second plane. Within five minutes, it landed smoothly and easily on the strip. Then Blake carried the footstool to that plane, getting it in place just before the door banged open.
    First Steven emerged, followed by a female