The boy came up alongside of them and seeing Elinor, touched the peak of his cap with his hand as she smiled in acknowledgment.
“Can I see you for a minute, sergeant?”
Panama excused himself and left the girl standing alone as he and Steve walked a little to the side of the row, entering into earnest conversation.
“That mechanic of yours left camp all dolled up in his dress uniform,” the corporal explained. “He was headed for the Cantina and I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Elinor couldn’t help but overhear what Steve had said and, as she thought of Lefty, mixed up with a lot of native women in a local barroom, helpless under the intoxicating influence of bad liquor, her blood ran cold and her face became chalk white.
“If the military police find out where he’s gone,” Steve went on to explain, “you know where he’ll land!”
Panama’s eyes narrowed and he bit his lips, inwardly furious over Lefty’s blunt disobedience in the face of all that had happened back in the tent.
“Run along, Graham,” he told the boy, in a manner of dismissal, “and forget about what you saw. I’ll have him back in half an hour if I got to drag him!”
Steve grinned with understanding and bowing slightly to Elinor, ran back, up the road to camp, satisfied that he had done his duty by God, country and the Marine Corps.
Elinor stood twitching her fingers from nervousness, waiting for Panama to do something, but as the sergeant continued to remain motionless, merely looking after the disappearing Graham, she came over to his side and tugged at the sleeve of his blouse.