CHAPTER XX
During the hour that Lefty proudly piloted the ship across mountains, rivers and an impenetrable jungle, conscious of the pleasant task that rested upon his shoulders, he enjoyed a good ceiling and clear sailing.
The only thing that darkened his sudden touch of glory was his deep concern over Panama’s condition.
“What a terrible, unfair Fate it would be,” he thought, “if anything should happen to old Panama now, after all we have gone through?”
He looked back to make certain that the sergeant was comfortable and cognizant of what was going on around them.
Each time he turned his head, his eyes met those of the wounded man’s who smiled back gamely, pantomiming to the boy to watch his stick and keep the ship leveled.
It was dusk by the time the lone plane circled over the field at Managua. The major and his aides, as well as Elinor and a group of ground men, stood watching the approaching mechanical bird flying toward them.
“That’s Williams’ ship all right,” Harding announced, “and he’s got somebody with him!”
Elinor, consumed with thrilling suspense, listened eagerly to the major’s disclosure. Next to where she stood, an officer was focusing a pair of army binoculars upon the plane now circling the field.
Without as much as an apology, she excitedly grabbed the glasses from the man’s hands and leveled them on the ship, her heart action increasing by leaps and bounds as she joyfully shouted: “It’s Lefty! It’s Lefty and he’s flying the ship!”