Three minutes later the plane was at rest on the beautifully quiet bay.
“The situation is difficult but not hopeless.” The Captain spoke rapidly. “There is not a minute to lose. There is a break in the fire up the ridge toward the north. It’s hidden from them by smoke. They can’t see it. If we had some way to tell them.”
“Can we land?” Jeanne was eager.
“In a hydroplane on dry earth and rocks?” he stared at her.
“A parachute,” she volunteered. “I—I’ve baled out. Three times.”
“No parachute,” the captain groaned. “If we had one I wouldn’t let you risk it. You’d get hung in a tree and be roasted to a turn.
“But say!” he exclaimed. “There is a parachute of a sort.” He began digging into a leather pocket. “Here it is, a dog parachute. Belongs to my dog over at camp. I’ve dropped him a score of times. He likes it.
“And there’s your dog,” his voice picked up. “I—I’ll just draw a crude map, showing where the gap is, write a note and tie it to the dog’s collar. Then he’ll make a parachute flight. If they don’t see him, he’s sure to wriggle out of the harness. We’ll put it on rather loosely. After he’s free he’ll circle and find them. Sure to. Any dog will do that. And he knows your big girl friend, doesn’t he?”
“Plumdum?” Jeanne could scarcely speak.
“Yes, your dog.”