“I tell you, you’re crazy!” the boy bellowed, angrily. “What do you think I am, anyway—your dog?”
A look of pain crept over Panama’s face. He saw all of his plans and dream castles crumble to earth with Lefty’s refusal to act as his proxy.
“Aw, no, I don’t think nothin’ like that. I ain’t tellin’ you to ask her, I’m beggin’ you as a pal!”
Lefty turned and walked to the rear of the tent, oblivious to the man’s entreaties. “Just because you saved me from being transferred to a ship, you expect me to jump every time you snap your fingers!”
The sergeant’s attitude changed now from one of meek pleading to definite aggressiveness, a role so perfectly suited to him.
“O-o-oh—so I’m askin’ you too much, huh? You won’t do it, eh? You won’t go over to that girl and say a couple of simple words for me when you know I can’t talk? Well, that’s Okay with me, brother! I certainly am glad to find out what kind of a pal you’ve turned out to be!”
Lefty completely weakened at the other man’s implication of his unfaithful devotion, and dropped to the cot behind him, suffering untold tortures caused by his being torn between the love of this man and his adoration for Elinor.
“I can’t do it, Panama! Honest, I can’t! It would be harder for me than it is for you!” The sergeant, not understanding the truth behind the boy’s ambiguous confession, walked over to where he rested and sitting down beside him, placed his arm about Lefty’s shoulders, once more resorting to his soft, pleading tone. “What are you talking about? Why, it’ll be a cinch for you, the way you sling words around! Say, if I had your gift for gab, you don’t think I’d be askin’ you to propose for me, do you?”
“If I had your gift for gab, you don’t think I’d be askin’ you to propose for me, do you?”