“All right, if you want it that way,” Phelps cried out. “Come on; I’ll fight!” Panama’s fists connected with the boy’s jaw and he followed this stunning blow right up with a short left to the stomach, then a right to the ribs and another left to the face, completely closing one of the boy’s eyes with the forceful blow. They were fighting now in close quarters. The boy swung his fists wildly, only making his mark once or twice and then with no noticeable effect upon the grizzled features of the other man, who kept tearing and slashing away with the confidence and marked certainty of the experienced battler. Panama brought every bit of his terrific, gorilla strength to bear upon his punches, battering the helpless boy into a corner and with a smashing right to the mouth, brought blood to his weaker adversary’s lips, following this up with a resounding blow, directly to a spot just under the heart that sent Phelps reeling across the tent and falling over the cot. The victor stopped a moment to catch his breath and brush the hair out of his eyes. He looked down and saw that his entire shirt front was covered with blood from the boy’s cut mouth and nose. Smiling grimly, he again pounced upon Lefty, who was just regaining consciousness, taking him by the throat with a determination to finish matters now for once and for all. Suddenly, from the flying field came the bugler’s call to assemble and to arms. A look of keen disappointment overshadowed the crazed and lustful features of the man who believed he had been wronged. Reluctantly, he released his grip upon Lefty’s throat, rising to his feet slowly and mechanically reaching for his flying togs. Down through the long line of company streets, noncommissioned officers breathlessly ran, shouting at the top of the lungs to the inmates of the many tents to turn out for duty. Panama buttoned his windjammer and reached for his helmet, casting one last, contemptuous look in the direction of the punch-drunk boy. “Come on, yeller, snap into it! I’ll settle with you later!” With that, he disappeared through the tent flaps, leaving the battered and bruised mechanic to slowly lift himself to his feet and follow after him. Out on the field, the ground men had already lined up the planes for a take-off in battle formation. Just ahead of the ships, Major Harding and his two aides stood in conversation as pilots and mechanics came running past them from all directions. Panama made his appearance and went directly to the flight commander, coming to attention and saluting his superior with a military snap. The major acknowledged the formality and instructed the sergeant to line his men up before their ships. Williams saluted again, did an about face and roared to the men on the field to fall in. When the men were in line and absolute quiet once more reigned, the commander of the flying squadron stepped forward and addressed the pilots and their mechanics.