“I don’t care if Rosa stand on her head! Leave me alone, will ya? I wanna listen to ole blondie do her stuff!” “Sacri!” fumed the native heartbreaker. “You do not know art!” Lefty sighed impatiently and pushed the girl away once again. “Aw, go sit on a tack!” Rosa frowned menacingly but still managing to check her temper, walked to a near-by table, picked up a straight drink of whiskey and handed it to the boy. Without even looking at her, he brought the glass to his lips and swallowed the contents with one gulp, making a wry face as he did so. The blonde finished her song and the orchestra returned to the stand, picking up their instruments, and at the sign from the leader, burst into a wild fandango. Rosa took Lefty by the hand and pulled him off of the stand. He looked back to call the blonde entertainer but she had already disappeared. “Come, we dance, no?” Rosa announced, leading him to the center of the floor. “Yes!” the boy agreed, and taking the shapely native girl in his arms, whirled off, around the tiled dance floor, stepping over any couple who might unfortunately come within his path. He felt something brush against his trouser pocket and looking down, caught sight of the girl’s hand in the act of removing his money. With a swift jerk, he grabbed the roll of bills from her and placed it in the inside pocket of his blouse, much to the native’s discomfort. At that very moment, Panama reached the veranda outside of the cafe, stopping to read the sign that forbade Marines to enter. As he burst through the grilled door, rudely brushing by a party of Americans who were ready to leave, his ears caught the sound of music and hilarity. Once inside, his eyes searched over the rows of tables and the people jammed together on the dance floor, resting them upon Lefty and the little native girl. Without waiting another moment, he pushed through the crowd until he reached the center of the floor. “What are you trying to pull off here?” he demanded to know, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder and swinging him around. “Pull yourself together. We’re gettin’ out of this joint pronto!” Rosa made no attempt to hide her resentment over Panama’s sudden intrusion and clung desperately to Lefty’s sleeve. As for the boy, he was so far gone by this time, that it took him a few moments to recognize the sergeant. When he finally did, his jovial mood returned and he slapped Panama on the back in a playful fashion, shouting: “Well, well, well—if it ain’t the old kid hisself!” “Come on, son,” Panama said, good-humoredly. “You’ve had your little fling, let’s go places!” “No, sir! No, sir! We’re goin’ stay right here!” the boy stubbornly insisted, throwing his arms about the sergeant’s neck in a typical inebriated fashion. “You an’ me, ole pal, we’re goin’ raise the ole roof!” The native girl grew more and more angered as the intruder insisted upon separating her from her easy prey.