"If you don't know how to play, you can just watch us," Curly said.
Hendley nodded. As Curly faced his ball, Hendley hefted the slender plastic club with its flat-faced head and tentatively swung it.
"Not until I start my swing!" Curly snapped sharply.
Hendley desisted, not sure what he had done wrong. The stocky man flexed his hairy arms and drew his club high over his head. He remained frozen in that position for several seconds. Then he swung, the clubhead lashing down in a swift arc. At that moment the dour-faced player suddenly stabbed out with his club toward the ball. He missed by inches. Curly's club smacked the ball solidly and, following through, banged into his opponent's stick before it could be withdrawn. The club shot from Happy's hands. He grabbed his fingers, grimacing with pain. Curly laughed gleefully. "Caught you that time!" he cried.
The ball had flown almost out of sight down the playing field. The three men watched it until it came to rest. "That's the fairway," Curly explained. "Try to hit it there. Over there, that's called the rough. And those sandy patches are traps. Object is to get to the green—see it way off there?"
Hendley peered into the distance, wondering how he was ever going to hit the ball that far. Then the angular player stepped over to place his ball on the ground, scowling more savagely than before. Curly took up a position behind the taller man. He winked at Hendley.
A pattern of play emerged. One player was allowed to stand behind the one driving his ball. He could attempt to dislodge the ball, but only after the driver had begun his swing. Happy's first maneuver turned out to be a feint. He began his swing, checked it suddenly and brought his club into position for a direct overhand smash. But Curly had anticipated him. His stab at the ball was also a feint. Happy was left holding his club aloft with no chance to hit his opponent's stick. Curly laughed until his eyes were moist. "Cost you a stroke!" he chortled.
Happy managed to make his drive, but he used a short, vicious stroke. The ball sped out in a low trajectory, hooked sharply, and disappeared into the tall grass of the rough. Happy muttered angrily to himself.
Hendley, innocent in the tricks of the game, became an object of amusement to his fellow players. They took turns interfering with him. Three times they managed to knock his ball away just before Hendley's clubhead could strike it. On the fourth try Hendley not only hit the ball but had the satisfaction of catching Curly's club as well. He could feel the shivering impact.
His drive, with his three misses, he was informed, cost him a total of four strokes.