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.