The boy turned away, picking up his pump and returning to his task without venturing to reply. “This won’t do at all,” Panama thought to himself; then speaking aloud, “What’s the matter, sorehead, peeved because your buddies got their wings?” If any other man in the entire United States Marine Corps, with the Navy combined, had dared to make such a suggestion to Lefty at that particular moment, he would have been put to sleep in a swift and skillful fashion, but Panama, that was something else again. Lefty knew the sergeant well enough by this time to be aware of the fact that anything Williams might say should not be taken seriously. Besides, circumstances had proven that this self-styled, hard-boiled Marine was the only friend in the entire world that the boy could depend upon. “No, I’m not peeved because they got their wings and I’m not a sorehead either,” Lefty announced, curtly. “I wish them all the luck in the world, only I’d like to be out there standing in line with them.” “Yeah?” Panama drawled, finding it difficult to continue to suppress the news any longer from Lefty, “Maybe you will be—soldier—maybe you will be—some day.” Lefty looked up at his friend and smiled sickeningly, then allowed his eyes to wander back to the center of the field just as the pompous major was pinning the wings upon the breast of Steve Graham. “Maybe I will—I guess not! I suppose they’ll be sending me back to some ship any day now.” Panama bit off another chew of tobacco, still assuming his indifferent attitude, though he found the part he was playing a difficult one in the face of the boy’s downheartedness. “So you think you’ll be shovin’ off to a ship soon?” Lefty dropped the pump and sighed despairingly; “Shoving off? I’ll be rushed off!” “Well, that ain’t so tough,” Panama added. “If you fall off a ship, it ain’t as far as toppling out of an airplane!” The boy smiled at his friend’s poor humor, knowing full well that if he allowed Panama to think for one moment that his chiding was irritating, there would be no letting up at all. “That’s true too,” Lefty replied. “But if I fall off a ship, I’ll be all wet!” “You’re all wet now, anyway!” The two men smiled, each possessing a profound respect and admiration for the other. “All kidding aside,” Panama continued, now in a supposed serious frame of mind, “going back to a ship ain’t so bad. I wish I was that lucky.” Lefty studied the sergeant earnestly to make certain if this latest announcement was to end in another pun at his expense, but after a moment, he reached the conclusion that Panama was serious. “Why, what’s up, skipper?” “Nothin’, only I’ve been ordered to Nicaragua to-morrow morning. Goin’ down there in that hot box ain’t bad enough, so they had to wish the worst mechanic at this station on me besides!” “Who’s the man?” Lefty bit, not the least conscious of the fact that Panama was referring to him.