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Updated: July 22, 2025
Five minutes later, wild-eyed and hilarious, they descended on the clubhouse with the miraculous news. For an hour the assembled golfers roared with laughter as the two stormed, expostulated, and swore to the truth of the tale. They journeyed from house to house in a vain attempt to find some convert to their claim.
"I'll wait for some one else to start it," yawned Tom, as he took his seat in the semi-circle at a respectful distance from the blaze. "Who else is going to be a quitter or a loafer?" inquired Dave scornfully. There was a pause. No one appeared to have a story that he wanted to try out on such a critical audience. At last Dick remarked thoughtfully: "As the man on the clubhouse steps said "
And he burst suddenly into a long, wild cry of triumph. The cry was taken up in a faint shrill echo. From the distance came shrieks women's voices smothered. "By God, we've got them," said Frank again. And then a strange thing happened. Pete Murphy crooked his elbow up to his face and burst into hysterical weeping. All this time, the men were moving swiftly towards the Clubhouse.
From where they sat the two men could observe the endless procession in the street, while keeping an eye on the door leading from the room into the main corridor of the big clubhouse. One of the men the younger of the two appeared uneasy over something, even rebellious at times.
There were certain trees into which he inevitably drove, certain waggish bends of the river where, no matter how he might face, he was sure to arrive. There was a space of exactly ten inches under the clubhouse where his balls alone could disappear. He never ran down a long put, but always hung on the rim of the cup.
Where is Martin Mabie to meet us, and what does he tell us to fetch along?" "I'm not going to say another word, Jerry, until we get to the clubhouse, when every one of you can have a chance to read his letter," remarked Frank as he prepared to cast off and throw his sails to the breeze again. "A week, did you say? Oh! what a long time to wait!" groaned Bluff.
"Sine me vacivum tempus ne quod dem mihi Laboris."* TER. * Suffer me to employ my spare time in some kind of labour. "I CAN'T think," said one of a group of young men, loitering by the steps of a clubhouse in St. James's Street "I can't think what has chanced to Maltravers. He stoops like an old man, and hardly ever lifts his eyes from the ground. He certainly seems sick and sad."
From the porch of the house, one, facing up the river, looked over the gently sloping garden, over the eddy lying under the high bank, and away over a beautiful reach of water known as The Bend, a wide, sweeping curve which, a mile distant, is lost behind a wooded bluff where, at times, during the vacation or hunting season, one might see the smoke from the stone chimney of a clubhouse which was built and used by people who lived in the big, noisy city many miles from the peaceful Ozark scene.
Link, glancing up in dull lack of interest, beheld Gault and the latter's daughter staring down at him. "Chum came home," said Ferris, scowling at them. "He trailed me. Don't lick him fer it! He's only a dog, an' he didn't know no better. I was bringin' him back to you." The girl looked sharply at her father. Gault fidgeted uneasily, as he had done once or twice that afternoon in the clubhouse.
I seen a guy go up to the managers and wave $10,000 in their faces for the box office receipts, and all he got was the cold, cruel laugh of scorn. "The clubhouse had its official opening last night, and as yet none of those that were in attendance have appeared upon the scene. I ain't saying a word, but I bet they had an awful time. "Them Friars are great people.
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