Panama moved closer, unable to fathom this boy’s object in flaring up over something that was probably upon the lips of a million other people at that very moment. “Wait a minute, before I knock you on your ear,” he warned. “What’s eatin’ you, anyway, my boy?” Lefty was at the end of his rope. He had stood all and more than the average man in his position would have taken, and he was bent upon putting a stop to matters here and now. Besides, he wasn’t cognizant of the fact that the man standing before him was unaware of his true identity. “That remark you made about me taking money for throwing the game—that’s what’s eating me! Laugh at me for being a bonehead if you want to, but I won’t stand by and let you call me a crook! You’re going to take it back—you hear? Every word of it or I’ll kill you!” Lefty made a leap for Panama’s throat, backing the Marine against the wall and, raising his fist, prepared to crash it into the face of his antagonist. Williams brought his senses into action, raised his arm to avoid the blow and, at the same time, used his left shoulder to push the boy off of him. The excited college man would have been clay in the hands of the trained fighter who had faced and beaten men twice his size the world over, yet Panama was not in the mood for whipping the boy, especially as he realized now how much his idle taunting had hurt Phelps. “Wait a minute, buddy. I didn’t know you were Lefty Phelps. Gee, kid, I’m sorry! Say, I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world! Sure I apologize, I take it all back—everything, and if you want to take a good rap at my chin, you’re welcome to, ’cause I’m certainly due a kickin’ around after what I pulled!” Lefty sensed the complete change in the Marine’s demeanor, noting the profound look of self-condemnation registered on the man’s face and a smile of understanding and apology written on his lips. The reaction of it all completely unstrung the sensitive boy, and as his nerves slightly gave away, he rested on the washbasin behind him for support, his eyes moistening with tears. “I guess I just lost my head,” he mumbled, somewhat incoherently as his eyes avoided those of the other man’s. “Everybody’s been laughing at me and——” “Wuxtra, Wuxtra! Read all about Lefty Phelps’ bonehead play!” cried a newsboy, on the platform outside, interrupting Lefty. The two men stood silent, gazing out the window, in the direction of the screaming newsie and his deadly papers. “Hear that?” Lefty asked, overcome by the conflicting emotions within him, and trying desperately to laugh. “It’s almost funny—yeah, it is funny, the way I’ve been running away from things. I don’t suppose I’ll ever live this all down.” Panama smiled generously and sympathetically. He gently slapped the boy on the shoulder, endeavoring to give him a feeling of confidence and security.