"'Fraid I'll have to fool you, old chap," said he airily. "You wanted me to go for the green—eh, what? Well, I hate to disappoint you; but I can't gamble in an even game—not when the kitty is a sand trap.... Ride, you little round rascal; ride!"
The last remark was addressed to the ball just before the blade of the mid-iron flicked it from the grass. Again there were two white specks in the distance, lying side by side. If MacNeath was disappointed he did not show it, but tramped on down the course, silent as usual and absorbed in the game. Both took fives on the hole, missing long putts; and the battle was still all square.
Our home hole is a par 4—a blind drive and an iron pitch to the green; and the vital shot is the one from the tee. It must go absolutely straight and high enough to carry the top of the hill, one hundred and forty yards away. To the right is an abrupt downward slope, ending in a deep ravine. To the left, and out of sight from the tee, is a wide sand trap, with the father of all bunkers at its far edge. The only safe ball is the one that sails over the direction post.
Ambrose drove; and a smothered gasp went up from the gallery. The ball had the speed of a bullet, as well as a perfect line; and, at first, I thought it would rise enough to skim the crest of the hill. Instead of that, it seemed to duck in flight, caught the hard face of the incline, and kicked abruptly to the left. It was that crooked bound which broke all our hearts; for we knew that, barring a miracle, our man was in the sand trap.
"Hard luck!" said MacNeath; and I think he really meant to be sympathetic.
Ambrose looked at him as a bulldog might look at a mastiff.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that!" he answered, rather stiffly. "I like to play my second shot from over there."
"You're welcome!" said MacNeath; and completed our discomfiture by poling out a tremendous shot, which carried well over the direction post and went sailing on up the plateau toward the clubhouse.
No man ever hit a longer ball at a more opportune time. As we toiled up the hill I tried to say something hopeful.
"He may have stopped short of the trap."