Bob Johnson, of Missoula, Montana, did his first flying in 1923 and, having earned his pilot's License, could not go back to his garage-grounded life. Determined to make a living by flying, he was one of the first commercial pilots and this is the story of all the bits and pieces that made up the records of the Johnson Flying Service, The Forest Service soon hired him in fire patrol work, there were mercy missions, freighting, serial photography and serial supply to expand his business from old crates to newer and better planes and to bring in his brother Dick. Skimming canyons, running the snowline, smoke jumping and chasing, all kinds of back country flying with danger an everyday occurence but since they seemed always to ""make like a homing pigeon"", the outcome was OK. An increased staff, still better planes, the war years -- and they worked on air crash rescues, spraying, seeding, and always were among the first of the smoke-eaters. There are lots of corking flying stories here and not a few thrills and the death of Dick makes a sorry ending to the exploits. An enterprising anticipation of needs, only 4 lives lost in the 34 years of operation -- this should sure-fire for a masculine audience.