He flew out toward the open farm land. There were fields everywhere. Most of them were too little for his purpose. But not far away he saw a field that seemed to stretch for hundreds of yards along the roadway, which here parallels the mountain. Jimmy could see it plainly in the moonlight. It looked smooth and safe. Jimmy judged it was a mowing, or hayfield. He swooped toward it. At the far end of the field he could dimly discern on a little ridge of land a great barn with a huge silo. A low white dwelling rose between it and the road. The sight reassured him. The field _must_ be a smooth mowing. He felt certain now that he could land in safety. He circled, so as to approach the field again from the lower end, dropped a flare, switched on his landing lights, and came down sharply over the trees that lined the end of the field. He could see well. He noticed that the field sloped upward slightly toward the distant house and barn. Bringing his plane down almost to the earth, he straightened her out, and just as his wheels were about to touch the ground lifted her nose a trifle. A second later he set her down perfectly, shut off his gas, and let the ship roll up the little slope to a standstill. Jimmy was out of the ship and out of his parachute like a flash. But already near-by dwellers were collecting around his plane. “There’s a house on fire on the mountain,” cried Jimmy. “Everybody in it was sound asleep until I woke them a moment ago. They need help. They may be burning to death. Come on. Who knows the way?” “This way,” shouted a lad who had just come up. “Follow me.” The entire group raced after him, as he ran down the highway, then turned into a wood road that led directly up the slope of the mountain. Now it was plain enough that something was burning. Through the trees shone a red glare, and the sky above was rosy with the flames. Showers of sparks could be seen shooting skyward. The wood road appeared to lead directly toward the burning house, which was located at no great distance from the main highway. Up the road they raced as fast as they could travel. The entire countryside seemed to be lighted by the fire. In no time they reached the burning building. The first floor was a mass of flames, and the fire was rapidly eating its way to the roof. The owner had escaped, with his wife and two children; but a grown lad, who slept on the third floor, was trapped and could be seen leaning from an attic window. The father was trying to rescue him. He had gotten a ladder, but it was many feet too short. There was no apparent way to reach the lad. The father was part way up the ladder. He was calling to the boy to jump into his arms. “Wait!” cried Jimmy, as he rushed up. “Don’t do that. You’ll both be hurt. There must be some other way.” His mind was working fast. An idea came to him. “Have you a rope?” he demanded. “Sure. A long hay rope.” “Let me have it quick,” said Jimmy. “We can save him with that.”