Williams thanked Steve again and again, telling him to run back to the field hospital and explain to Elinor that he would be along in a few moments. As the boy started back, he threw the tent flaps apart and boisterously entered. As his eyes fell upon Lefty decked out in full dress uniform, he stopped cold in surprise, believing the boy to be either drunk or part loco. “Where do you think you’re goin’, all dolled up like Mrs. Astor’s pet horse?” “What do you mean?” Lefty asked without looking up. “The dress uniform, here in Nicaragua, during a campaign! What’s the idea?” “I’m going out!” “Where?” “Just out!” “In that get-up?” “What’s the difference?” “Nothing—only, well, it ain’t being done!” “Then I’ll be different!” the boy announced in the same crisp fashion. “Got a date?” Panama persisted in questioning, merely because Lefty’s strange attitude was worrying him. “I’m going to town!” “Got permission?” “Don’t need any! I’m going, that’s enough. If anybody don’t like it, they can lump it!” “Oh, yes sez you!” “Oh, yes sez I!” Panama made no attempt to continue the debate, primarily because he believed it was useless to argue with a man in such a set frame of mind, then, there was Elinor, waiting for him, probably as impatient to see him as he was to get there. “What do you think, kid,” he began, hoping to pull the boy out of the dumps, never for the moment realizing that what he was about to say would only make Lefty feel all the worse, “Elinor’s here! Can you imagine it? She’s over at the field hospital waiting for me! Sent Steve to tell me to shake a leg. Me for a wash! Whereinell’s that basin gone?” Phelps remained silent though he walked over to a small box near his cot and picked up the basin, handing it to Panama. “Maybe I ain’t got much of a face,” the happy sergeant speculated as he poured some water from a bucket into the basin, “but I stand a better chance gettin’ by if it’s clean!” Lefty sat down on the edge of his cot only to have to get up again to hand Panama (now dripping wet and blind from soap suds) the towel. Once dry, the sergeant tore out of his greasy flying togs, into a clean blouse and fatigue trousers, halted now through his usual difficulty in tying his black tie. “Be a good guy, Lef,” he asked, “and tie this darn thing for me, will ya?” As Lefty silently complied by rising and facing his loquacious friend, Williams continued to ramble on, “Say, did you know she was down here?” Lefty nodded in affirmation, proceeding with his task. “Didja see her yet?” “Yeah!” “Did she ask about me?” Panama now inquired with eagerness. “For gosh sakes alive, will you hold still?” Lefty barked impatiently, “how am I going to tie this gadget if you keep on yapping?”