Explore "The Prince of Space" by Jack Williamson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Bill lay on an Alpine glacier, a painful broken leg inextricably wedged in a crevasse. It was dark, frightfully cold. In vain he struggled to move, to seek light and warmth, while the grim grip of the ice held him, while bitter wind howled about him and the piercing cold of the blizzard crept numbingly up his limbs.
He came to with a start, realized that it was a dream. But he was none the less freezing, gasping for thin, frigid air, that somehow would not come into his lungs. All about was darkness. He lay on cold metal.