He looked at the ball steadily, and then turned to his companions.
"Is it not whimsical?" he said. "This little thing seems to have become a part of our life, eh? And the game of golf is also a game of life, non e vero? Forgive me, signores, but I am an Eastern, and everything in life is a parable to such as I."
He struck the ball, and laid it, according to golfers' parlance, "dead."
"Fine shot," said Purvis; as for Sprague, he said nothing.
For the first time Purvis lost a hole to Ricordo, but Sprague halved it with him.
"Good hole," remarked Purvis. "One under bogey."
"Ah yes," said Ricordo, "but I cannot afford even to halve with Mr. Sprague if I am to win the match, eh? Seven up and ten to play. No, I must win, and not halve. I have lost so much in the beginning of the game. The game of life is always hard to win, when you lose in the beginning."
Sprague took the honour, and drove with unerring precision. As he saw it fall, a look of satisfaction came into his eyes.
"Longest ball you've driven to-day, Sprague," said Purvis. "It's possible to reach the green with a good 'brassy' from there."
"Nasty hazard just before the green, by the look of it," remarked Sprague, looking steadily.