Elinor stood by the narrow window in the dingy, one-room hut that she
and Grace Hayes (another nurse) made habitable after an entire day of
scrubbing and cleaning on their hands and knees until their backs were
nearly broken.
A blue cotton curtain, some pictures, a few ornaments, bought in town
and some brightly colored cretonne pillows gave the little place a
feminine touch and a homey atmosphere.
The bright, full tropical moon shone through the glass, casting its
silvery beams upon the girl’s thick, blue-black hair and large, dark
eyes.
As the form of a man appeared just a few feet outside of the window, the
nurse stepped back and drew the curtain so as not to be seen. Grace came
up alongside of her, trying to peer through the glass but the curtain
shut out the view completely.
“Is he still there?” she asked inquisitively.
Elinor nodded her head slowly, continuing to watch the man pacing up and
down before her window, not without experiencing a secret thrill of
triumph as she marveled at his patience. For the past hour and a half,
he had been walking back and forth in front of the house, stopping now
and then to look in the window, hoping for a sight of the lovely nurse
within.
“Oh, that’s mean!” Grace protested. “You’ve kept him waiting out there
for almost an eternity. Why don’t you stop this nonsense and see him!”
“It will do him good to wait,” Elinor announced with a touch of
severeness in her voice. “He needs a lesson in consideration for other
people’s feelings!”
“Oh, dear!” the other girl sighed with envy. “I wish there was a tall,
good-looking Marine waiting for me on a night like this!”
Elinor couldn’t help but smile at her roommate’s outburst of simple
romanticism. “And if this one was waiting for you instead of for me,
what would you do!”
“I don’t know,” Grace confessed in a helpless fashion, “I guess I’d run
right out, drag him off to some lonely spot and work a proposal from him
if I had to literally choke the words out of his mouth!”
“That’s a good idea,” Elinor replied with secret amusement. “Maybe I’ll
try it myself.”
“Really!” the other said as her mouth opened aghast and her eyes
widened. “Would you—honest!”
“Any old port in a storm, you know! If he doesn’t speak with natural
ease, perhaps your idea of gentle persuasion may help.”
She reached for her blue cape and swung it over her shoulders, stopping
to peck Grace’s cheek with a fond kiss as she walked to the other side
of the room.
“Be in early!” the lonely, romantic nurse warned, good-naturedly, as
Elinor placed her hand on the door knob, swinging the door open.
“That depends on how successful I am,” the girl laughed with a ring of
optimism. In a moment, the door had closed behind her and she was gone.
Grace ran to the window excitedly, peeking through the curtain to watch
her roommate and Lefty, who still waited with admirable patience.
Lefty reached for his hat and pulled it off of his head, fumbling
nervously with it in his hands as he turned about, discovering Elinor
standing in the shadow of the doorway, silent and somewhat indifferent.
“Oh—er—hello!” he stammered, attempting to assume a bold, devil-may-care
front, though obviously ill at ease.
“Good evening, Mr. Phelps,” she replied in a distinctly piqued manner.
She came down the little pathway and joined him without speaking
further. Together, they silently turned off to the road that led up the
hill and passed the old Spanish Mission.
Certain that Lefty would remain silent as long as she set the example,
Elinor gave him a hurried, sidelong glance, and with slight irony,
remarked: “I suppose I should feel highly honored over your
condescension in favoring me with your precious society this evening?”
She waited a moment for him to reply but he was too miserable even to
look in the girl’s direction.
“Well,” she began again, this time in a lighter, indifferent fashion,
though still secretly burning with jealousy, “did you have a good time
last night?”
“I don’t blame you for not being tickled pink to see me,” he said, in a
manner that distinctly betrayed his secret disgust with himself, and the
mark of unhappiness his present task had left upon his heart and face.
“I haven’t been at all considerate of your feelings of late, but if you
were acquainted with the circumstances, you might not be so harsh in
your opinion of me.”
Just ahead of them was a native hut with large palm trees silhouetted in
the background against the pale, evening tropical sky. The moon, peeking
over the tree tops, reflected the dark figures of several men and women
seated on the porch of the little house, singing the alluring love
melodies of far-away Spain to the accompaniment of indolent, strumming
guitars.
The boy and girl paused just before an ancient well, built centuries ago
by the Spanish Inquisitors. Elinor gazed up at the unhappy Marine whose
face bore a pathetic expression of inquietude.
“Why the sudden outburst of remorse?” she asked in the same piqued
manner as her original approach.
“I’m not remorseful or—well, I only meant to explain that I wouldn’t
have bothered you to-night if I didn’t have something important to ask
you!”
Elinor’s heart almost stopped beating at the welcome sound of his words
that held so much promise. He could mean but one thing, she was certain,
and at the mere thought of an impending proposal of marriage from this
man, she looked up at him with suppressed eagerness and anticipation,
half whispering: “Yes, Lefty, what is it?”
“I hardly know how to begin,” he faltered, “and I hope that you will
take what I am going to say in the right way.”
“Of course!”
Throwing discretion and self-pride to the winds, he gazed at her with
wild, piercing eyes, a look that quickened the beating of her heart and
thrilled her to the very tips of her fingers.
“I want to tell you,” he continued in a hurried, reckless fashion,
anxious to get his task done, “I want to tell you that somebody loves
you, somebody thinks you are the most adorable girl in all the world.
You’re on his mind every waking hour of the day and when sleep envelops
him at night, his dreams are only of you! You are all that he thinks of,
talks about and lives for. No matter where we go, what dangerous perils
face us, all I hear from him is Elinor this and Elinor that. She’s
beautiful, wonderful, sweet and——”
“Lefty!” Elinor interrupted, rudely awakened with astonishment at the
knowledge that his proposal of marriage was merely the delivery of a
message for someone else.
Unmindful of her interruption or the abject pain of remorse and
disappointment that was gripping the heart of this girl whom he truly
worshiped himself, Lefty rambled on: “There are a lot of men in this
world who would be made the happiest creatures alive with the knowledge
that you cared for them—good men, successful, honest and faithful, but
if you searched far and wide, over the four corners of the earth, you
would never find another Panama. He may seem relentless, rough and
crude, insofar as speech and education goes, but underneath that hard
exterior, built up as a protection against a laughing, unmerciful world,
there is a softness, a beautiful, honest soul possessed with a
tenderness and devotion to you!”
“Please, Lefty!” the unhappy, disillusioned woman begged, “you
mustn’t——”
“There is only one fault he possesses,” the boy continued, deaf to her
protestations, “his heart is filled with such a great love for you that
he is limited for the want of proper expression. I know that he has
tried to tell you time and time again but each——”
“Please, don’t!” she interrupted beseechingly, suddenly gripped with a
pressing desire to run away from it all as she took a few steps
backward.
“Don’t you understand, Elinor? He’s crazy about you! He worships you.
Never, since the day his eyes first rested upon you, has he even as much
as looked at another woman. Last night, when you kissed him—kissed him
for saving me from prison or God knows what else—he went wild with joy!
All night long while he flew over the jungles, imperiling his life, his
task was made lighter because he believed you cared!”
Elinor stood numb with obfuscation, her face a lifeless, enigmatic blank
as her eyes filled with large tears that trickled down her pallid
cheeks. Lefty lifted her chin so that their eyes met, then he grasped
her by the shoulders, shaking her gently to make her understand, but all
that he did was to bring to the girl the horrible realization of the
tremendous sacrifice he was making for his friend’s happiness.
As he gazed into her tear-filled, pleading eyes, he was afraid to trust
himself, and struggled to bring Panama back as the chief topic of
conversation, increasing his fervent ardor with the escape of each word
from his lips.
“Don’t you understand, dear? He loves you! That’s why I am here to speak
for him because he can’t! He worships the very ground you walk upon,
lives only for the realization of his dream to marry you. Will you——”
“Please, Lefty—don’t say it!” she cried in a voice gripped with terror.
“I’ve got to, dear,” the boy persisted in a blind, resolute manner.
“He’s over there now, waiting for your answer. He’s waiting for me to
come and tell him that you will be his wife!”
Unable to control her emotions any longer, Elinor gave full vent to her
feelings and broke down, sobbing as if every one of Lefty’s words had
been an arrow, piercing straight through to her heart.
Instinctively, he drew close to her, dropping his cruel mask of
pretension for one brief moment.
“What are you crying for, baby!” he asked, gently, allowing his hand to
stroke her hair. “You’ve got nothing to feel bad about, dear! You should
shout for joy because Panama loves you. He’ll make you the happiest girl
in the world. Come on, girlie, what do you say!”
She looked up into his clear blue eyes that bespoke the great sacrifice
he was making. Despite her own sorrow, her heart filled with admiration
over the splendidness of his character and his unflinching devotion to
the cause of a man who had often befriended him.
Unable to remain silent any longer in the face of losing the man her
heart had belonged to ever since the very first moment she saw him, she
cried, “Lefty!” in a tone that expressed her own, powerful, overwhelming
love.
He stepped a little away from her, conscious of his own weakness as she
followed after him, throwing her arms about his neck and burying her
head upon his chest. He attempted vainly to release himself but she
pressed closer to him.
When she lifted her head again, gazing up at him appealingly, he
momentarily forgot every obligation he had assumed, completely weakening
as he clasped her tightly in his arms, showering her upraised lips with
kisses his heart had gone hungry for.
They became lost to the world in the ecstasy of their own love,
whispering to each other passionate words of endearment.
All at once, Lefty’s face sobered as Elinor drew away from him. “How
will I ever explain it all to Panama?” he murmured.
Though the thought of the sergeant and the speculation as to how he
would receive the unhappy announcement of his failure, troubled Elinor,
she braced herself for the ordeal, shielded by her great love, and
replied: “I’ll go with you, dear! I’ll tell him!”
Panama was keyed up to a high, exciting pitch of impatience. He had been
pacing back and forth within the small inclosure of the tent since Lefty
went forth upon his unhappy mission, now more than two hours ago.
Hearing a noise outside of the tent, he paused suddenly just as the
flaps were pushed back and Lefty entered, bearing a troubled look upon
his weary and tired face. Panama grinned apprehensively and ran to greet
the boy, eagerly awaiting to learn the results of the expedition.
“What did she say?” he whispered, forcing down a nervous lump that rose
in his throat.
“She’s outside,” the boy replied with hesitance. “She wants to talk to
you!”
Too wrapped up in the belief that, at last, his fondest wishes had
culminated in actual realization, Panama remained blind insofar as
sensing the truth that lay behind Lefty’s apparent misery and
troublesome expression. He bolted pass the boy and was out of the tent
in a moment.
Once more alone, Phelps dropped down upon the edge of the cot in a
forlorn manner, running his fingers through his hair for the want of
something to relieve the tenseness that had gripped him.
Restless and worried, he rose again and paced back and forth with a
nervous, uncertain step, waiting for the inevitable moment when he would
again have to face the sergeant after the truth had been disclosed.
Following what seemed to be an hour, but was really no more than ten
minutes, the flaps parted again and Williams entered, bearing a cold,
unrelentless expression of cruelty, feeling very much like a man who had
been betrayed by his dearest friend.
He faced the boy sternly. His thin, colorless lips were pressed tightly
together and his eyes narrowed with growing rage.
Nervous and pleading, bearing a miserable look of unquestionable guilt,
the boy began to explain the circumstances only to be cut short before a
single word had passed his lips.
“So that’s the kind of a rat you turned out to be?” Williams began in a
cold, upbraiding manner of disdain.
“But, listen—” Lefty begged.
“I sent you over to my girl to ask something that I was unable to say,”
Panama interrupted him again, “and the moment my back was turned, you
forgot about me in your own selfish way and made love to her yourself!”
“That isn’t so!” the other man insisted vehemently. “You know I wouldn’t
double-cross you for a million dollars!”
“You wouldn’t double-cross me?” the Marine noncom repeated, emitting a
cold, merciless laugh that caused a chill to run right through the other
man. “Why, you yellow pup—you ran back on your college, and ran back on
the Flying Corps and now you try to knife me!”
The boy’s face became livid white and he parted his lips as a sign of
protest but the enraged sergeant burst right in upon him again without
allowing him an explanation.
“Put up your hands and fight, if you ain’t the yellow pup I think you
are!”
“I don’t want to fight you, Panama,” Lefty appealed in vain. “I don’t
want to fight you!”
“You mean, you ain’t got guts enough to,” Williams shrieked derisively,
“but I’m gonna beat the daylights out of your yellow hulk or know why!”
He raised his hand and made a lunge at the boy just as Lefty attempted
to shield himself by covering his face with his hands. Panama’s blow was
too quick. His clenched fists reached their mark, just on the side of
the boy’s head, stunning him for a moment and then arousing him to the
act of self-defense.
“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.
“Word has reached us from an official source,” he announced, “that a
body of our men are being attacked by the enemy near Ocotal.” He turned
to the adjutant standing at his right and asked: “Are all the pilots and
observers present?”
“All present and accounted for,” the aide announced, “except Sergeant
Greyson and Corporal Fleck, two observers who are down with malaria!”
“In that case,” the major announced, “I will lead this formation myself.
Sergeant Williams, you will accompany me as my observer. Private
Phelps——”
Lefty stepped forward, managing to stand beneath the shadow of one of
the planes so that his bruised face would not show. “Yes, sir!” he
replied and saluted.
“You have had machine gun experience?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then you are assigned to Corporal Steve Graham’s plane as his observer!
Crews will service all ships for immediate flight. The armament section
will place eight fragmentation bombs on each plane and check front and
rear guns and ammunition!”
He took two paces back. The adjutant stepped forward and saluted, then
cupping his hands to his mouth, yelled: “Turn on the field lights!”
Captain Burleson, second in command to Major Harding, moved up in front
of the young adjutant and announced: “Make all possible speed. We must
take off in less than ten minutes!”
As the great Sunlight arc lamps from the roof of the hangars on the
north and south ends of the field illuminated the vicinity for miles
around, literally turning the dark night into daylight, the various
crews began to service each ship, beginning with tearing off the engine
covers.
Noncommissioned officers moved about with raised voices, ordering their
units to fulfill various tasks in hurried and excited tones of
authority, as each man responded by springing into action.
Over to the right, at the bombproof cellars, men perspired as they
silently labored, passing up bombs along a line that reached to the
first ship with the last man standing by to load plane after plane.
The motors of some of the planes were already running and the deafening
whirrs drowned out the shouts of officers and noncoms. With the ships
serviced and loaded with ammunition now, the pilots and their observers
climbed up into the cockpits, ready for the command to take off.
Steve and Lefty’s plane was the second in line, just alongside of the
major’s in which Panama was traveling as observer. Though Steve was
keyed up and fervent with excitement over his first night flight as a
pilot and the happy prospect of at last being baptized under the fire of
Sandino’s guns, he found time to annoy Lefty, who sat in the rear
cockpit, miserably unhappy and at fault with the world.
The corporal glanced back at his observer, bearing a mischievous grin,
and as he indicated the machine gun beside Phelps, remarked derisively:
“Now be careful, Yale, and don’t fire that gun backward!”
The boy was too occupied with the many confusing and disappointing
problems of the past few hours to heed the idle chiding of Graham. He
merely glanced up at the heckler with a frown and then turned away once
more to his own troubles without offering any retort.
The great siren blew and the pilots, alert for action, responded by
taxiing their ships to a starting position with the major’s plane first
in line.
Panama stood up and looked back to make certain that everything was
ready, reporting to the commander, who raised his arm high above his
head, the procedure followed by every other pilot all the way down the
line.
The ground men hurried through the network of ships, bending low to make
certain that the lights strapped to the struts of each ship were
securely fastened and lighted. One these men jumped out of the way, the
commander of the squadron dropped his hand and the planes made their
take-off down the field, flying into formation as they gradually gained
altitude.