"Come on!" he yelled. "Come on!"

"What, have the helicopters arrived?!" I jumped to my feet.

"Quickly!" he yelled. "There's not a second to lose!"

The others were up now too. I climbed the ladder.

"It's about time!" Stantor wheezed beneath me.

Outside the sky was bright with fire. I looked-no helicopters, only a few soldiers in helmets and dressed like paratroopers. They handed us some kind of harness.

"What is it?" I asked, confused.

"Quickly, quickly!" yelled the sergeant.

The soldiers began to saddle me with the thing. "I'm hallucinating!" I thought.

"Not at all," said the sergeant. "These are jump holsters, our individual rocket carriers, the fuel tank's in the backpack. Here, grab this." And he shoved some kind of lever into my hand, while a soldier standing behind me tightened the shoulder straps and belt. "There!"

The sergeant clapped me on the back and pushed a button. There was a long, piercing whistle and white smoke poured from the pack's nozzle, enveloping my legs. In an instant I was borne into the air like a feather.

"But I don't know how to steer it!" I shouted as I soared up into the flickering, blazing night.

"You'll learn!" called the sergeant from below. "Take your azimuth-from-the-Nooorth-Staaar!!"

I looked down. I was flying over the gigantic pile of rubble which not too long ago had been the Hilton. Near it was a tiny cluster of people, and farther on a bursting blood-red ring of fire that silhouetted some object, small and round-it was Professor Trottelreiner blasting off, his umbrella open. I checked to see if my straps and buckles were holding properly. The power pack gurgled, clanged, hissed, the propelling column of steam began to burn my calves, so I drew up my knees as far as possible, but this made me lose stability and for a full minute I was spinning in the air like a lopsided top.