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The yellow cur was scared, as a shark is sometimes driven off by the loud splashing of a swimmer, and, though he leaped the fence, he wheeled again, and, without harming the man, ran down the highway toward the Woodvale school. For a moment after firing, Rube Johnson believed he was killed.
I had absolute confidence that I should win, and when Miss Harding smilingly told me that she was "pulling for me," I had no more doubt that I could win than I had that I was alive. We had the largest gallery that ever has followed a match in Woodvale. The betting was two to one against me.
"Robert Harding, you are hopeless!" declared his good wife. "You have become a perfect golf crank." "Let me alone," he grinned, as he climbed the fence. "I'm on my vacation. Keep your eyes on this one, boys!" Before we started from Woodvale he declared that it was all nonsense to take along a change of clothes, and he was dressed in that wonderful costume, plaids, red coat and all.
I marvelled that baseball grounds were not laid out in the noble open spaces surrounding the palaces of Paris, Berlin, and Vienna. The Swiss Alps had a fascination for me by reason of their unsurpassed opportunities for coasting. It never occurred to me until to-day that nature had any motive in planning Woodvale other than to provide a sporty golf course.
It went high and to the left, and for a moment I was sure it would not clear the fence, but it did, dropping in as thick a clump of swamp grass as can be found in Woodvale. It left him fully one hundred and fifty yards from the cup. It-was a most disappointing shot, and I instinctively turned and looked at LaHume. That young gentleman was satisfied beyond measure.
On it was a man who lived near Grubbtown, but was working at Woodvale when the flood came. He was carried right past his own house and coolly told the people at the bridge to bid his wife good-bye for him. The house passed the bridge three times, the man carrying on a conversation with the people on shore and giving directions for his burial if his body should be found.
"Heard the news?" demanded Chilvers, approaching the table where Marshall, Boyd, and I were smoking on the broad veranda of the Woodvale Golf and Country Club. We shook our heads with contented indifference. It was after luncheon, and the cigars were excellent. "Where's LaHume?" grinned Chilvers. "Where's our Percy? He must hear this."
"Let me tell you something," declared Harding. "I only took up this golf business a few weeks ago, and by hard work have found out about mashies, hooks, foozles, cops, one off two and all those difficult things, but I'm blamed if I ever heard of trifoliums, or whatever you call 'em, and you can't ring 'em in on me. I won't stand for it! We don't play trifoliums in Woodvale, do we, Smith?"
Two bounds carried him clear, and then, with the utmost speed of which he was capable, he ran along the margin to a slight turn in the conformation of the grove, when he leaped out into the open air and was off with as great fleetness as he displayed on the home-stretch in his race with Ralph Genther, after the turkey shoot at Woodvale.
As Chilvers said yesterday, I was born on the farm which now constitutes the Woodvale golf links. When my father died he willed this land and other property to me. I take it that a man has a right to do as he pleases with his own.
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