"Ther' iz, zur," said one of the caddies, "great big pit overgrawed weth vuss and vearny stuff."
Ricordo addressed his ball. It was teed rather too high, and he patted it down. A moment later he made his shot. There was a slight curve on it, but he outdrove Sprague by two or three yards. Purvis foozled his drive for the first time.
"Are you going to try it?" asked Purvis, as Sprague stood before his ball.
"It's risky," said the other. "Do your players here carry that green in two?" he asked the caddy who pulled out an iron for him.
"'T 'ave bin dun, zur," replied the caddy. "The perfeshernal 'ave done et, an' a gen'leman from London; but moasly they doan't. Bezides, ther's a little wind."
"I'll try it," said Sprague, taking the brassy.
He struck the ball fairly, but it did not carry. It fell into the bushes.
Sprague suppressed an angry exclamation.
"Goin' to play for safety, zur?" asked the caddy of Ricordo.
Ricordo took the brassy from the boy, and looked steadily towards the green.