Ace King did one thing supremely well. He knew his ship. He was born to fly.
“Hey, Ted,” he brought a certain line of reasoning to a head, “the Ranger can’t land with that DeHaviland, if he does go after Rosa. You know the lay-out on Red Top.” (The boys had passed that way.)
“Yeh,—Cæsar!—That’s right. No place there half large enough for the bombing-plane!—That poor kid!” He shuddered. “What’s the answer?” for he saw that Ace had some plan. “I’m with you!”
“Just this. We can’t leave her there to be burned alive. Radcliffe can’t do any more than we can about it. Besides, he’s got his hands full, wherever he is. But a forest guard was killed last year directing fire fighters from a plane. Went into a tail spin and fell into the flames.”
“I know. It’s mighty dangerous flying over a fire. Isn’t there anything Rosa can do?”
“That’s just what––” Ace hesitated, deep in thought.
“I’ve heard of people taking refuge in caves, but where would she find the cave?—’N’ I’ve heard of ’em going to a rock-slide and piling up a barricade of stone and lying behind it while the fire swept that way. It cuts off some of the heat and flying sparks––”
“Look here!” Ace vociferated with the suddenness of a machine gun. “I’m going for her.”
“What––!”
“Yes, sir! I can land there, anyway. Then if it queers the machine, I’ll take Rosa down to the rapids. I know a fellow that was in a big fire in Montana. When it cut them off, each man soaked his blanket and got under it in midstream while the fire jumped to the other bank. They made a sort of tepee around their heads, got clear under water, and just came up for an occasional breath. Gee! He says it roared like a thousand trains as it swept over them. So that’s what we’ll do—that is, unless we can get back in the ship.”