He struck his ball, and foozled it badly. It went away among the heather, where some two or three minutes were spent in finding it. Sprague and Purvis halved the hole, while Ricordo was several strokes down.
"We shall have to get rid of the fellow," said Sprague. "You see he's only a beginner."
"Let us be civil," said Purvis. "We are staying at the same place, and he promises to be interesting."
The next hole Ricordo fared a little better, but only a little. Sprague began to think of some hint he could give him that would cause him to leave them.
"I will play one or two holes more with you, Mr.—Mr.—ah, I am afraid I did not catch your name."
"Sprague is my name."
"Sprague, Sprague—thank you; yes, I will remember. My name is Ricordo—that means remember, and I will remember, yes."
"And mine is Purvis."
"Thank you. Yes, I will remember. I will play one or two holes more with you, and then, if I continue to be such a—duffer—yes, that is the word—then I will go away, and challenge you for to-morrow."
"Golf is a difficult game," said Sprague; "one does not pick it up in a day."