“There’s a starter for your man, Merriwell,” said Manton.
Frank spoke to Bart in a low tone:
“Beat this man if you can,” he urged. “I am confident that you can make him hustle if you play half as well as you did in Ohio last week.”
Hodge had won a golf trophy in Ohio.
Having teed, Bart selected a club, got the hang of it, and then addressed the ball. His form was faultless, and he made a drive that seemed fully as handsome as that of Cleaves.
“Well!” was the exclamation of Fuller; “he did that in style. I believe he drove quite as far as Cleaves.”
The two opponents sauntered leisurely down to look for their balls, and it was found that Hodge had driven some yards farther than Cleaves.
It happened that both balls had lodged favorably. Cleaves sent his sailing toward the little flag that marked the first hole. Bart did the same. Then Cleaves made a handsome approach, lodging close to the hole. Hodge fell off somewhat.
“Cleaves makes it in four,” said Frost. “Hodge will be one behind on the first hole.”