Down the line with John Henry

by George V. Hobart

Out near the Fifth hole we met young Mil Roberts and Frank Jenvey.

They were playing a match for 60 cents a side and they were two busy boys, all right, all right.

Mil had his sleeves rolled up to show the mosquito bites on his muscles, and Frank was telling himself how he missed the last bunker.

I asked Mil what time it was and he told me, "Three up and four to play!"

I suppose that was Central time.

I handed Frank a few bars of polite conversation but he gave me the Frostburg face.

Did you ever have one of those real players pass you out the golfish glare?

You for the snowstorm when you get it—believe me!

Then Mil and Frank dove in the mudcan, cooked a pill, placed the ball on it, slapped it in the slats, gave us the dreary day-day and were on their way.

It must be awful to play for money.