"That roof's going to fall," exclaimed one of the soldiers.
"Hey, are you crazy!" shouted another. "Don't go in there!" But before they could be detained the two boys darted into the smoke. They were just in time to escape the restraining hand of the captain and Mr. Phipps, who were running a few yards behind. There was a moment of terrible suspense, then a crash, and the plane pitched forward into the parade grounds.
The captain and the ranchman, in a tremor of apprehension, started into the smoke, but a soldier's voice arrested them.
"They're under the machine," he shouted.
Quickly tipping the plane back into position, the men found the boys, who had been pinioned under it. Their clothing was torn, and covered with mud, but the boys, fortunately, were unhurt.
"Is it safe?" gasped Fred, jumping to his feet.
"Is it all right?" was Fly's first question.
But there was no time to inspect the machine carefully for damage. It must be hauled into the hangar as soon as possible. The draft-fed flames were shooting hungry, livid red tongues skyward, and the almost deafening noise of falling bricks and timber too well foretold the fate of the building.
"Here, everybody lend a hand," said Herb, perspiring from the intense heat of the fire.
"Pick the machine up on your shoulders," Mr. Phipps ordered several of the idlers.