“I couldn’t help but hearing,” she said. “Is Lefty in trouble?”
Panama turned and looked down at her, still livid with rage over the mechanic’s insubordination.
“I told that fool to stay in camp,” he roared. “He’s goin’ to learn who’s boss around here and do as he’s told!”
Fearful for the boy’s safety and worried that his escapade might send him to a military prison, thus ruining any possible chance of winning his wings in the future, she held the angered sergeant’s arm tightly and pleaded: “Don’t be too hard on him, Panama; he doesn’t understand!”
“I’ve got to bring him back or he’ll land in the brig,” Williams explained, his voice softening as he once more became the man and not the hard-boiled sergeant. “You won’t mind, will you?”
Barely able to conceal her personal concern over Lefty’s welfare, she fairly pushed Panama forward, urging him on his way, feeling that there wasn’t a minute to be lost.
“Never mind me,” she said, “I can find my way back alone, only please hurry and get him!”
CHAPTER XIV
Of all the numerous places in Managua that offered various kinds of diversion to Marines on temporary leaves of absence, the most interesting was the Cantina la Flora. This center of life, music and wine probably intrigued the American soldiers of the sea and air because it was a strict breach of Marine rules for a uniformed man to be seen beyond the cafe’s entrance.
The Cantina la Flora was just ten or fifteen feet off the main road, directly on the outskirts of the city.