Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 10, 2025
Their intimacy had arisen primarily from the fact that Pickings was the only man willing to listen to Booverman's restless dissertations on the malignant fates which seemed to pursue him even to the neglect of their international duties, while Booverman, in fair exchange, suffered Pickings to enlarge ad libitum on his theory of the rolling versus the flat putting-greens.
But whether or not the malignant force of suggestion was neutralized by the attraction in opposite directions, his drive went straight and far, a beautiful two hundred and forty yards. "Tine shot, Mr. Booverman," said Frank, the professional, nodding his head, "free and easy, plenty of follow-through." "You're on your drive to-day," said Pickings, cheerfully. "Sure!
Another two resulted. "Even threes fifteen holes in even threes," said Pickings to himself, his head beginning to throb. He wanted to sit down and take his temples in his hands, but for the sake of history he struggled on. "Damn it!" said Booverman all at once. "What's the matter?" said Pickings, observing his face black with fury.
He slapped down his ball, took a full swing, and carried the far-off bank with a low, shooting drive that continued bounding on. "That ought to roll forever," said Pickings, red with excitement. "The course is fast dry as a rock," said Booverman, deprecatingly. Pickings put three balls precisely into the bubbling water, and drew alongside on his eighth shot.
Whereupon, in defiance of etiquette, he swore with equal fervor, and they started off. Pickings glanced at Booverman in a superior and critical way, but at this moment a thin, dyspeptic man with undisciplined whiskers broke in serenely without waiting for the answers to the questions he propounded: "Ideal weather, eh? Came over from Norfolk this morning; ran over at fifty miles an hour.
I know too well what will follow on the fourth or fifth. Watch." "Straight to the pin," said Pickings in a loud whisper. "You've got a dead line on every shot to-day. Marvelous! When you get one of your streaks, there's certainly no use in my playing." "Streak's the word," said Booverman, with a short, barking laugh. "Thank heaven, though, Pickings, I know it!
Pickings felt a strange, unaccountable desire to leap upon Booverman like a fluffy, enthusiastic dog; but he fought it back with the new sense of responsibility that came to him. So he said artfully: "By George! old man, if you hadn't missed on the fourth or the sixth, you'd have done even threes!"
"Shall we play through?" said Pickings, with formal preciseness. He teed his ball, took exactly eight full practice swings, and drove one hundred and fifty yards as usual directly in the middle of the course. "Well, it's straight; that's all can be said for it," he said, as he would say at the next seventeen tees. Booverman rarely employed that slogan.
And you, too, Picky, you'd be immortal, because you went around with me. The fourth hole was bad enough, but the sixth was heartbreaking." His drive cleared another swamp and rolled well down the farther plateau. A long cleek laid his ball off the green, a good approach stopped a little short of the hole, and the put went down. "Well, that ends it," said Booverman, gloomily.
"Oh, I suppose I'll make another three here, too," said Booverman, moodily. "That'll only make it worse." He drove with his midiron high in the air and full on the flag. "I'll play my put carefully for three," he said, nodding his head. Instead, it ran straight and down for two.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking