Now the rain, at which they had so grumbled a little while before, did them a good turn. Under the torrents that were by this time falling, the hastening fire began to relax some of its speed. It was this alone that made it possible for them at last to drag their comrade from under the last of the boards and carry him out into the open air. And never was the cool air so sweet as at that moment! "Are you hurt anywhere, Ted?" asked Garry anxiously, as they propped the lad up against a tree. "N-no, I guess not," gasped Ted, trying hard to summon up a smile. Garry ran his hands over Ted's arms and legs and was infinitely relieved to find that no bones were broken. "You see some of the boards formed a sort of tent over me so that I didn't get the full weight of the timbers," explained Ted. "He's all right, fellows. We'll leave him here till he gets his breath back while we go and look after the pilot," announced Garry. "I'm going too!" exclaimed Ted, seeing for the first time the still figure of the pilot. But an attempt to get to his feet showed him that first he must get a little rest and regain his strength, for his had been no light experience. The others hurried over to the limp form of the aviator. He lay in a crumpled heap, and as the boys bent over him they feared for a moment that the worst had happened; that he was dead. Big Bill Sherwood turned him over on his back, pulled open his leathern jacket, and slipped a hand within his shirt. The boys looked on with hearts stirring with fear and pity. Slowly a relieved smile stole over Bill's face. "I can feel his heart thumping," he said. "The poor fellow's a long way from being dead yet." As though to prove the truth of the statement, the man opened his eyes and stared vacantly around him. Then he sat up suddenly, freeing himself from Bill's supporting arm. "The wires!" he cried, wildly. "One is broken. I must fix it, quick! Quick!" Then with a groan: "Too late! Too late!" He was evidently recalling the fearful moment of the plunge. "She's falling! Those trees! How close they are! The trees!" CHAPTER III The Wounded Aviator The man's words died off into silence, and the black sea of unconsciousness again surged up to meet him. "Can it be that he's dead?" asked Rooster Long in an agitated voice, as he and his companions stared down upon the white, set face of the pilot. "Chafe his hands and wrists," directed Garry, and he himself set the example. There in the pouring rain, themselves aching because of their bruises, the boys worked over the stranger until they were finally rewarded by signs of returning consciousness. Ted, having regained some of his own strength, now joined his companions in doing what they could for the aviator. The man opened his eyes and a glimmer of understanding came into them. He tried to sit up, but fell back with a groan. "Who are you?" he asked the boys.