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and two of them were balls that Mr. to disregard himself and to tutor ChapMott himself had lost last Sunday.
The foursome, completing their routine “That was a nice ball,” he began sinwith incredible speed and skill, disappeared cerely, “but you 're still slicing. Why in the middle distance. Mr. Mott played don't you try addressing it with the toe three, and Mr. Mott played four, and if of the club? That makes you reach out he had n't kept superhuman control over after it. You try that, and see what it his temper, he would have dumped his does. And I 've noticed you go back too clubs in the nearest pit, brained his caddy fast. You can't do that and keep your with a patent putter, and started inco- balance unless you 're a good player. Slow herently for Bloomingdale. As it was, he
back, and crook your left knee more. Like merely confirmed the theory that the ter- this!" He foundered an approach which minology of masculine hysteria is limited rolled and rolled until it trickled on to to four suffixes, and played five without the green and stopped dead. "Well, that's caring whether he found the hole or the the idea, but I did n't get it up enough," Hudson River. As a matter of fact, he said Mr. Mott with modest reserve. Subfound the hole.
sequently they each used the putter twice. "Bully!" said Chapman. "I made mine, The eighth was a sinecure, and they too; thought we'd better save time.” halved it in four. On the ninth tee, to the
Mr. Mott, red and perspiring, shook his frank annoyance of another foursome head sadly.
which had overtaken them, Mr. Mott re“I ought to have had a four,” he main- fused to drive until the quartet ahead had tained. “I wasted a shot. That 's eight left the green, two hundred and twentystrokes I 've absolutely thrown away this two yards away, uphill. round. I ought to have had a four easy. "A good wallop 'll carry that far someIf you don't mind my telling you, you'd times,” he explained with dignity. “They better play straight for the big tree. Then 're off now, anyway." Before proceeding your slice'll make it come around into to the shot, he condescended to lighten the the fair." Whereupon Mr. Mott hit a situation with a ray of humor. “I'd hate very high, very short hook, and as he pos- to kill anybody," he said, and topped not tured in the guise of Ajax,--save that more than a mallet's length into the tall Ajax presumably had no such costume and
grass. no such implement to intensify the dra- From the restive foursome a gruff voice matic value of his gestures, -he fervently struck harshly upon Mr. Mott's sensitive apostrophized the wind, which had taken a perfectly straight ball and blown it into "Well, that was a damn' humane ima trap. He was n't influenced in his de- pulse all right!" cision by the sight of a marker-flag drooping lazily on its staff, nor by the circum- With a medal score of sixty-three for the stance that Chapman's drive, which at- first nine, Mr. Mott bade farewell to all tained almost equal height, came to earth thought of a silver trophy for his library, without a single degree of deviation from and devoted himself to a keen study of the line of shortest distance.
ballistics as exemplified by his partner's “The wind took it right around !" flamed chronic slice. For two holes he fairly Mr. Vott, snatching his niblick. “Fore!" exuded advice and encouragement, but at It was
a good out, and Mr. Mott the twelfth tee he was staggered to displayed a goodly third. His fourth, how- cover that he had counseled an ingrate. ever, was abortive, although the divot flew Without question, Chapman was improvgracefully. Mr. Vott withheld his analy- ing steadily; the slice was appreciably less, sis until Chapman had curved a half-slice and Mr. Mott had merely said, with the within striking distance of the green, and kindest of motives, that Chapman was imthen his finer sensibilities prompted him proving, and that if he'd only remember
to stare while he counted three at the spot cellence in the short game he would diswhere the ball had rested before he hit it, play his lack of nerves and his imperturbahe'd do even better. And Chapman, bility in a trying moment. The man hardly smiling, replied in a tone which whose partner has played out rather than was cousin to insult:
to wait politely while sand-pits are under "Perhaps if you play your game, Mr. exploration is subject to an adjustment of Mott, and let me play mine, we 'll get poise; and although Mr. Mott had the along well enough as it is.”
satisfaction of leaving no loophole for critMr. Mott would n't have been human icism, he was nevertheless too fundamenif he had n't taken seven on the next hole, tally introspective to drive well on the and he would n't have been human if he dog-leg fourteenth. had n't experienced a thrill of primitive Furthermore, although the region imtriumph when Chapman not only sliced mediately surrounding his ball was n't his drive, but also his full mid-iron. placarded as ground under repair when Granted that his approach was moder- Mr. Mott began his onslaught upon the ately efficient, Chapman deserved nothing turf, it was indubitably in need of repair better than a seven, or possibly a six, with when 11r. Mott got through with it. He divine aid ; but when he putted wretchedly quarried out a blanket of gravelly soil at off direction, and the ball, deflected by the each of four desperate offensives, and agency of an unseen slope, curled sharply when he toiled wearily up the billside to in toward the cup, and tottered to the lip the green he had three putts for an eleven, of it, and dropped, Mr. Mott compressed and he was aware that Chapman, whether his lips and said nothing. He realized that befriended or betrayed by fortune, slice or comment was superfluous; when a man no slice, had beaten him by a margin of had that sort of luck, which simply com
many strokes. pensated for two earlier mistakes, there But the sun was setting, the end was was nothing for a righteously indignant near, and Chapman was a new member. opponent to say.
Mr. Mott relaxed somewhat, tore his But when Chapman achieved a perfect score-card to bits, and scattered them on drive on the thirteenth Mr. Mott burit with information.
"No use keeping that any more," he "That 's the queerest thing I ever saw said. "I can't putt on these plowed fields in my life!"
they call greens. They 're a disgrace to "What is?"
the club, that 's what they are. Now, "Why, that ball was straight as a die! this is what I call a beautiful hole. Four And you stood for a slice!"
hundred and thirty-over beyond the “No!” said Chapman.
farthest line of trees. Par five; it ought "But- why, certainly you did. I 'd to be par six.” have told you, but you'd begun your
"Why?" swing, and I was afraid of spoiling your
Mr. Mott was mildly astonished. shot. It's the funniest thing. Where am “Because it 's a hard hole." I, caddy?"
"But par 's arbitrary, Vr. Vott." "In the pit," said the ruminating caddy. "Yes, but the greens committee —"
By the time he got out, he perceived "The greens committee has n't anything that his companion had finished, and was to do with it. Any hole up to 225 yards sitting on the bench in the shade. Highly is par three, from 226 to 425 is par four, offended at the discourtesy, Mr. Mott from 426 to 600 is par five. If this is 430 whistled to demonstrate his independence, yards, it has to be par five." and utilized an unconscionable length of Mr. Vott blinked at the sun. time in his study of topography. To do "What makes you think that?" him justice, he was n't seeking to retali- "I know it." ate: he was resolved that by his own ex- "Well, I may be wrong, but my impres
sion is that the greens committee fixes the par for the different holes. Anyway, here goes!"
"Nice ball!" said Chapman. Mr. Mott smiled conciliatingly.
"Tommy Carrigan made that driver. for me," he said. "It's a pippin. As soon as I swing I can feel I'm going to hit it clean. I beg your pardon! Did I take your mind off your shot?"
“Not at all. I 'm out there about for two holes! Gosh! If I had n't been where you are."
so rotten up to the fifteenth I'd have had “It was a screamer," said Mr. Mott, a chance!" Aloud, he said: “Par four 's unaware of the inference to be drawn too much for this hole. It ought to be from the compliment. “As good a drive three. What was yours?" as I 've seen in a month."
"Four,” said Chapman. "Your apTo his immense gratification, he was proach was too good; it was a wonder." hole-high on his second shot, and home on "Pure wrist shot. Notice how I took his third. He compelled himself to plan the club back? Sort of scoop the ball up for two putts, to insure himself a par five - pick it up clean? That 's what I 've instead of risking all on a bold steal which been working for-pick 'em up clean with might prove, by metamorphosis, to be a lots of back spin. You get that by sort of gift to the devil. In consequence he very sliding under the ball. Well, two more nearly holed out, and he was far too enraptured to care what Chapman got. "Let's make 'em good !" adjured ChapChapman had manhandled his chip shot, and Mr. Mott had n't noticed the others. “One under par for two holes,” thought Let Chapman account for himself. Par Mr. Mott, slashing a low drive to the five!
open. "Say, I guess Chick Evans would According to the custom duly laid down n't turn up his nose at that, eh? A five in such cases, Mr. Mott took many prac
and a three! I was-let's see-thirtytice swings on the sixteenth tee. Tempo- eight for five holes, and a five and a three rarily, he had struck his head upon the make forty-six. Oh, I beg your pardon!" stars, and with the pride of a champion He was wool-gathering squarely in front he swung with a champion's ease and free- of Chapman, who presently put a sliced dom. Par five! Mr. Mott, with the ball somewhat beyond Mr. Mott's. image of the Vardon statue hovering be- "Gosh, what a wonderful day for golf!"
“ fore his eyes, clipped bits of turf from the said Mr. Mott, enthusiastically. “Not a scarred tee and ogled the green. Carrigan breath of wind, not too hot, just right.” had overdriven it; it was n't much more “Suits me. You got a nice drive there." than three hundred yards. And the "Too high," said Mr. Mott, judgmatimorass directly before the tee, the trap to cally. He played a jumping shot which the left, and the rough to the right, what ran briskly over the shallow pit guarding were they? Who but novices were to be the green, and came to a standstill not alarmed by the puny hazards such as twenty feet from the cup. He putted, these? Surely not one who has made the and was dead. He holed out with neatlong fifteenth in a par five!
ness and precision, and knew that he had Mr. Mott drove magnificently, and beaten Chapman by a stroke. "Gad, what started hastily over the foot-bridge, then a green!” said Mr. Mott, pop-eyed. halted at the pleasant laughter of his com- “Like a billiard-table. We 've got an panion, and shamefacedly stood aside. He English greenskeeper; he 's a wonder. never looked to see where Chapman Sleepy Hollow and Pine Valley have nothdrove; his consciousness was riveted upon ing on us.” a small white object far up on the slope. "You 're finishing strong, Mr. Mott. And since, during his walk, he told him- Go to it!” self exactly how he should play his ap- “One under par for three holes," proach, how he should stand, how he shouted Mr. Mott's dual personality to should swing, he later stood and swung
Mr. Mott. "And-how many am I to without destructive uncertainty, and so here?" To Chapman he said, "I 'm trypitched prettily to the pin.
ing to remember - what did I have on the "Three!” whispered Mr. Mott to him- tenth?” self. “One under par! One under par "Six,” said Chapman.
"I can name every stroke you 've played since you started," said Chapman. "It gets to be second nature after a while. I know every shot we 've both played."
Mr. Mott looked doubtful.
"What was my fourth shot on the fourth hole?"
"Brassy to the green," said Chapman. "You got a six."
"Well, I'll be-what did I make on the seventh hole?" "Seven."
"Well, what was my third shot on the tenth?"
"Just a minute-why, a topped mashy into the trap. You were on in four and down in six."
Mr. Mott prepared to drive. "Do you always remember scores like that?"
Mr. Mott drove far down the fairway. Exalted and emboldened, he ventured to explain briefly just how he had done it. Then when Chapman had hit a long, low ball which developed a faint slice as it dipped to the hollows, Mr. Mott was constrained to offer condolence.
"If you just get that kink out of your shots you'll play under a hundred," he stated flatly.
"Well, I hope so."
"Nothing in the world but slow wrist. action. Look! You don't see me slicing many balls, do you? Watch how I get my wrists into this one!" He was unerringly on the line, and Chapman nodded understandingly.
"You could n't ask anything better than that."
"And the best of it is," said Mr. Mott, glowing, "that I always know what's the matter with me. I know just how you feel. Now go after this one! Easy-and follow through! Oh-too bad!"
"It 's safe, is n't it?"
"Yes, it's almost up to the brook; but if you 'd gone into the woods, it would have been a lost ball. This way!" Mr. Mott illustrated once more. "Here she goes!" And he made his third consecutive shot which was without reproach.