And Kendall did, and again the glow of satisfaction spread through him. He laughed nervously.
“I thought I was going to miss it entirely that time,” he said. “But I did keep my eyes on the ball, Tooker.”
“You sure did. But don’t call me Tooker. It’s an awful name to have to listen to. Call me Ned.”
“You said the other night that your name was Ted,” laughed Kendall.
“Ted, Ned or Ed; it doesn’t matter. Only never Tooker. And now here’s a bit of information for your future guidance. Never climb over a bunker, Curt; it breaks it down. Further along you will observe a nice little passage left for you; see?”
Kendall saw and started for the break, supposing that Ned was following. As he went through he looked back. Ned was not there. Instead he was in the act of jumping from the top of the bunker.
“I thought you said I mustn’t do that,” said Kendall.
“You mustn’t,” replied Ned gravely. “Ever.”
“But—why—you did it!”
“And so will you when you’ve played longer. Now, then, you’re away.”