“Oh, no!” replied Frost. “It was a fair win.”
He reached down and rescued his ball from the hole. Then he walked very deliberately to the edge of the green, dropped the ball on the turf, swung his putter and sent the offending guttie flying into the river. Then he came back, a smile on his face.
“I feel better,” he said to Ned, with a laugh. “Well, we had a close game of it, Tooker, and you deserved to win. Wonder how the other games came out.”
“It’s two to two,” said Linton. “The match depends on those chaps.” He nodded across to where Simpson and Sawyer were preparing to drive off from the ninth tee.
“Who won?” asked Ned of Kirk.
“I lost,” answered Kirk unhappily. “It was 86 to 90. I’m awfully sorry, Ned.”
“It doesn’t matter. How did the others come out?”
“Pete lost to Linton and Jim Morgan beat Carter. What was your score, Ned?”
“I was 79 and Frost 80. Anyone heard how Simpson is getting on?”
“He was four to the bad at the end of the first round,” replied Kirk. “I guess he’s out of it.”