It was so cold that his spit froze in the air before it hit the ground. He was so far above the Artic Circle that the sun never rose. Seventy below zero, and there was nothing but whiteness in every direction: ice and snow. No trees, no houses, no wood, no warmth. He had only a few matches and a handful of frozen fingers. And yet, to survive, he had to build a fire... Jack London's tales of adventure were unsurpassed because London was there. From...