Inside of the last tent on the street, Lefty was nervously pacing back and forth, disgruntled and uncertain. He walked to the entrance and closed the canvas flaps, then turned and went to his cot, pulling out a dirty work shirt from a bundle and shining his shoes with it. He was an amazing sight, attired in the blue and scarlet dress uniform of the Marines at that hour of the night, campaigning in an open field in the midst of impending hostilities.
Just as Panama arrived a few feet away from the entrance to the tent, he heard hurried footsteps from behind, and turning, recognized Steve, breathlessly running toward him.
“Hey, Romeo,” the corporal shouted, wait a minute. “I got some news for you.”
Panama stopped and waited for Graham, grinning good-naturedly and certain that the boy had followed him to pull some prank as a means of getting even for his putting the bucket over his head.
“How’d you get the pail off your dome?” Williams greeted Graham by asking a little derisively.
“That’s what I’ve come running to tell you,” Steve announced. “Somebody pulled it off for me and who do you think it was?”
“Sandino?”
“No, Elinor Martin!”
Panama gazed at Graham with questioning and doubtful eyes, believing this to be some kind of practical joke.
“Honest, it was Elinor,” the boy reiterated. “She came in to-day with nine other nurses and two doctors. I told her you had just landed and she’s waiting over at the field hospital for you now!”