In a few seconds Tom realized that he and Mary must make a hasty exit from the plane, for it might slip from its position, and portions of it drop on them as they slid from their seats. The poor _Hummer_ was badly broken. A plane cannot crash down into a tree and not have something like that happen. They are not built for that sort of thing. Tom realized this. “Quick, Mary!” he called. “Unstrap yourself and I’ll help you climb out and down. I don’t know how long this plane will stay here.” Mary had recovered her nerve after the first shock of the crash and as soon as she realized that neither of them was hurt beyond more than bruises and a shaking up. “I can get out myself,” she announced, as she loosed the strap that held her to the cockpit seat. “And I can climb down out of the tree, Tom. I’m glad I wore leather knickerbockers to-day.” “So am I,” murmured the young inventor. He had loosed himself in his seat and turned now to help Mary, but of this there was little need, since she was capable of acting for herself. Several of the branches of the great pine had been broken off, and the jagged ends were sticking through the frail wings and the almost as frail fuselage of the plane. These branches thus held it in place for a time, but it might slip down at any moment. “How are you making it, Mary?” asked Tom, as he climbed out on a branch. “I’m all right,” she said. “This is fun—just climbing down out of a tree,” and her laugh showed that her nerves were in good shape, for which Tom was glad. But then, Mary Nestor never was the sort of girl to go off in a faint. She was a brave girl, and that was why Tom liked her so much. Together the two made their way down out of the pine tree, leaving the plane impaled on the branches over their heads. “Poor _Hummer_!” murmured Tom, with more feeling than he cared to show. “Yes, and poor us, too, perhaps, Tom!” exclaimed Mary. “Why, we’re all right!” he exclaimed, as they reached the ground. “Hardly scratched.” “Yes; but look! The fire! It’s all around us!” Then Tom realized the peril he had all but forgotten—the peril of flames. As Mary spoke, the fire, with a sudden burst, leaped a gap hitherto open and the young people were in the midst of a raging conflagration—blazing trees and bushes all about them! CHAPTER XIII JUST IN TIME MARY NESTOR had borne up bravely during the previous trying experiences. But the discovery that the fire was all about them unnerved her and filled her with horror. “Oh, Tom!” she cried wildly. “We’re doomed! If we only could have stayed up in the air!” “That couldn’t be done,” Tom said grimly. “We were lucky enough to get down as we did without being hurt.” “Yes, I know. But now, Tom, look!”