Panama smiled generously and sympathetically. He gently slapped the boy on the shoulder, endeavoring to give him a feeling of confidence and security.
“Why, sure you will! That’s nothing. Say—I pull boners all the time, and in my game, it’s a lot unhealthier to get foolish than it is in football. What’s a game anyway? You’ve got your whole life to live. Don’t let a thing like that set you back!”
Lefty smiled gratefully at the man who, a few moments before, he wanted to kill. His eyes then fell upon the silver wings on Panama’s chest, and for a moment, he forgot everything else.
“Why—you’re a flyer, aren’t you?”
Panama, pleased with the reverent manner in which Lefty put his question to him, grinned complacently, explaining that he was a sergeant in the aviation detachment of the Marine Corps. At that moment, the door opened and the other Marine stuck his head in.
“Hey, Panama, snap into it, the train’s leaving now.”
Panama grabbed for his hat and bag, starting out the door, and then stopped to look back at Lefty.
These two gazed at each other, silently for a moment, then the Marine dropped his grip and walked back to where the boy stood.
“Buck up now, trooper, and forget it,” he advised, cheeringly, holding out his right hand which Lefty gripped firmly. “My name’s Williams, Sergeant Panama Williams. I’m stationed at the San Diego base. If you’re ever out that way, drop in; I’ll he glad to see you!”
Lefty smiled at the other warmly and released his hold upon the man’s hand.