WYOMING: Vigil

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 Alvey, a rugged man of 37, remembered how the red. single-engined Taylorcraft had headed in between two peaks of the Medicine Bow Range. Then a downdraft had seized it, and the plane crashed.

Twenty Bars. Mitzkus was lying beside the wreckage. Alvey crawled to him, felt his pulse. He was dead. Alvey crept on around the plane picking up candy bars. He had bought twelve Hershey’s and twelve Oh Henrys at Casper and had 20 of them left. He also had three packages of cigarettes, and a cigarette lighter. He built a fire, cut the brown cowboy boot off his swollen ankle, and leaned back to wait for a rescue party.

He waited a long time. For three days he stayed near the plane. Then his fire got out of control, set the wreckage ablaze, charred his companion’s body. He crawled painfully away, huddled near the bottom of the canyon. Two days later his lighter fluid gave out; he could kindle no more fires. He rationed his candy bars, quenched his thirst by scooping holes in a dry creek bed and waiting for water to filter slowly into them.

On the 14th day, he ate the last of his candy. About then he also began to notice a blonde girl of about 16 standing near him. It was Mamie, “the first girl I ever loved back in Kentucky.” She smiled at him and held out her arms. He wondered if she would rescue him.

Nineteen Nights. After the15th day he was conscious of little but pain and cold. He lay motionless, unable to crawl to water. He did not know that Air Force planes had sighted the wreckage, and had dropped food and medical supplies only 175 yards from him. On the 19th night, when a rescue party stumbled past within 20 feet of him, he could not make himself heard.

When they found him next day he was lying with his head pillowed on one arm. He was black, bearded, emaciated, and barefooted. Said one of the rescuers: “Looks like we got a dead one.” Alvey moved, opened his eyes. “God, I’m glad to see you,” he whispered. “Bring me a drink of water.”