“Why, that burning ship turned over on its side the instant the pilot left it and dived straight after him. I thought sure the plane was going to crash into him. It was frightful to watch. My heart simply stopped beating while that plane roared after him. And the pilot was as cool as an icicle. He just kept on falling and falling and never moved a muscle. As the plane shot by him I thought it had struck him, and I cried right out. But somehow the plane missed him and shot down like a flaming meteor. Gee! You should have seen what happened then. Your friend had his parachute open the instant the blazing ship had passed him.” “How high was he?” “Not very high. Just a few hundred feet. But the wind caught his parachute instantly and snapped it open with a jerk. I could see the pilot spin around like a weather-vane in a wind squall. You know he was falling head foremost all this time, and the parachute jerked him upright quicker than you could wink your eye. It must have given him an awful jolt.” “What happened then?” demanded Jimmy. “Why, Dad and I separated. He ran toward the plane, to try to save the mail, but I never gave a thought to the mail. I ran to help the pilot. I couldn’t help thinking that after all it might be you, Jimmy. You know a fellow can never be sure just who’s in a plane.” “That was mighty kind of you, Johnnie. But I wasn’t in the plane, and that lets me out of the story. What did you do when you reached the pilot?” “I got to him soon after he hit the ground. He was all tangled up in his parachute, for he had come down in some scrub growth and the cords were twisted among the stems, and the parachute itself was fast in some bushes. He had landed pretty hard, too, and was half stunned. And he wrenched one of his ankles badly. Maybe it’s sprained. Anyway, I helped him to get out of his harness, and I told him just to sit down and take it easy while I gathered up the parachute. But he didn’t want to wait an instant. He said he had to get to the ship to try to save the mail. So he just snatched out his knife and cut a big piece out of the parachute, and then we hurried over to the burning ship as fast as he could walk. He never said a word, but I know his ankle must have hurt him terribly.” “Did you save any of the mail?” “No. When we got there the fire was so hot you couldn’t get anywhere near the ship. Dad and some other men had tried to pull some mail-sacks out of the plane, but it just wasn’t possible. The fire was too hot. I wasn’t much interested in the mail or even in the plane. I couldn’t think of anything but the pilot. He looked awful. When we got near the burning ship, where it was light enough to see him well, I noticed at once that his eyebrows and lashes were burned off, his face was badly scorched and his hands were burned almost raw. It’s a wonder he wasn’t burned to a crisp.”