"I've tried one method of approach," said he, "and now I'll try another one. I might tell 'em that I bet two hundred dollars on the suspicion that they were gentlemen, but likely they'd want me to split the winnings. They look like that sort."
Number Seven was a gift on a golden platter. I won it with a frightful eight, getting into all sorts of grief along the way, but Wally was entirely up in the air and blew the short putt which should have given him a half.
"All square!" said he. "Fair enough! Now we shall see what we shall see!"
His chin was very much in evidence as he hiked to Number Eight tee, and he lost no time getting into action. Colonel Peck was preparing to drive as Wally hove alongside. The Colonel is very fussy about his drive. He has been known to send a caddie to the clubhouse for whispering on the bench. Wally walked up behind him.
"Stand still, young man! Can't you see I'm driving?"
It was in the nature of a royal command.
"Oh!" said Wally. "Meaning me, I presume. Do you know, it strikes me that for a golfer with absolutely no consideration for others, you're quite considerate—of yourself!"
Now I had always sized up the Colonel for a bluffer. He proved himself one by turning a rich maroon colour and trying to swallow his Adam's apple. Not a word came from him.
"Quiet," murmured old Peebles, who looks exactly like a sheep. "Absolute quiet, please."
Wally rounded on him like a flash.