Elinor dropped Panama’s hand and struggled with herself to hold back the tears that she already felt moistening her eyes. “I think you’re just perfectly mean,” she scolded; “talking that way about Lefty!” “Yeah?” he questioned, sensing that Elinor’s interest was becoming more than just an impersonal one. “What’s it to you what I think or say about that guy?” The little nurse checked herself in time, and, forcing a smile, looked up at the hard-boiled sergeant in an assumed attitude of indifference. “Why—it’s nothing, Panama, nothing,” she hastily explained. “Only—well, I do feel kind of sorry for the poor kid. He’s been given a few bad deals and——” “I guess you’re right, Elinor,” Williams interrupted as his eyes softened, changing his entire demeanor to one of sympathy and understanding. “He deserves a decent break and I’m going to help him get it!” Her eyes brightened and her cheeks flushed slightly. She felt her heart beating a trifle faster at the sound of the sergeant’s welcome words of understanding. “What do you mean?” He smiled and pointed to the pocket of his regulation blouse from which protruded the white corner of the order from Washington, handed to him by the Post Commandant only a half hour previous. Not quite fully cognizant of Panama’s meaning, Elinor, with a questioning look, lifted her hand and with hesitance, touched the sergeant’s blouse pocket, extracting the paper. Nervously she unfolded the white sheet as her eyes eagerly devoured the contents. “In compliance with the above reference,” she read hurriedly, passing over the formal introduction at the top of the page, “upon the arrival of Observation Squadron Ten, en route to Managua, Nicaragua, you are hereby ordered to join the Squadron, prepared for active service. “Three of the new Naval aviation pilots will be selected to accompany this flight as observers. Your flight orders are continued in force for this duty. You will select a suitable mechanic to accompany you. “The travel herein enjoined is necessary in the public service. John Hibbard, Chief of Staff, U.S.M.C.” Elinor dropped the paper and with excited and grateful eyes, reached for Panama’s hands and pressed them to her fondly. “You will select a suitable mechanic,” she repeated, quoting from the communication. “Then that means——” Panama smiled broadly, too thrilled for words over the manner in which Elinor held his hands in hers. “We’re shoving off to-morrow at daybreak for that two-by-four comic opera republic.” “And you’re going to take Lefty with you as your mechanic?” she questioned, as her eyes danced for joy and her heart beat furiously with pride and gratitude. Panama loosened one of his hands from Elinor’s and reached for a plug of tobacco in his blouse pocket. “Yeah. He don’t know it, but I am.” “I think that’s immense of you,” she said, with a ring of sincerity in her voice.