Williams remained silent after that, a trifle hurt over Lefty’s apparent indifference insofar as his romance was concerned. When the boy had finally tied a knot, Panama sheepishly dug down into the pocket of his trousers and brought forth a small diamond ring, holding it in the palm of his outstretched hand in full view. “I’ve been trying for six months to get up enough courage to give this to Elinor. Somehow, I always get tongue-tied just at the very moment I feel set to pop the question.” Lefty walked away impatiently to the farthest end of the tent and sprawled out on a box, picking up an old magazine. “Ain’t that too bad?” he said, mockingly. “Yeah—but I’m goin’ to put it on her little finger to-night or bust, sure!” “Aw, shut up, will you?” Panama was completely taken back by Lefty’s antagonistic attitude and for a moment, he gazed at the boy with a puzzled expression, finally asking, “Whatinell’s the matter with you, anyway?” “Nothing!” “Somethin’ is eatin’ you—what is it?” “I said, nothing was the matter!” Lefty snapped, no longer attempting to hide his growing resentment. He rose, picked up his white cap and walked to the forward end of the tent, his passage now blocked by Panama who stepped before him. “Say, where do you think you’re going, Sheik?” “Aw, what do you care?” Lefty growled, with an effort to push past the sergeant. This attitude was all that Panama needed to make him forget his interest in the boy as a matter of friendship and once more bring to life the hard-boiled, bossy top kick. “Wait a minute, there, bozo,” he commanded. “I know what’s on your mind. You think you’re goin’ down to that local gin mill and get all illuminated, but you ain’t! You know that there is an order forbidding us to mix with the natives. Now, take off that coat and hat. I’m goin’ to give you somethin’ to keep you busy!” “Not to-night!” Lefty protested. “Yeah, to-night, right now,” Panama said, pulling out some papers and handing them to the boy. “Make out these reports for me and stay here! Savvy?” Lefty didn’t venture to reply but sat down, holding the reports, mutely acknowledging the other’s authority as Panama picked up his hat and started out, returning in a moment and gazing at the boy, mistaking Phelps’ attitude for one of heartsickness caused by military failure. His entire demeanor suddenly changed to one of softness and understanding. “Listen, kid, forget that crackup,” he said, in a warm manner of friendship, putting his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “I know you want to fly, and you’ll get your chance. Now, listen. You’re a clean guy. Don’t go down and get mixed up with a lot of rotten dames, it ain’t worth it and you’re not foolin’ no one but yourself. Keep decent, that’s the thing to do! Everything is bound to turn out all right!” Lefty listened to this advice attentively, though he refrained from looking up. Panama waited a moment for some sort of response but there was none forthcoming.