"Wha-a-at!" gasps Old Hickory.
"Uh-huh!" says I. "It was him that shot in the ball with the Ha, ha! message on it."
"But—but from where?" he demands.
"Look!" says I, leadin' him to the window.
"The old sinner!" says Mr. Ellins. "Why, that must be nearly one hundred feet, and almost straight up! Some shot! I didn't think it was in him. Hagen could do no better. And think of putting it through a window. That's accuracy for you. Say, if he can do that in a game I shall be proud to know him. Anyway, I shall not regret handing over that twenty-five."
"It'll cost him nearly that to set another pane of plate glass," I suggests.
"No, Torchy, no," says Old Hickory, wavin' his hand. "Any person who can show such marksmanship with a golf ball is quite welcome to—— Ah, just answer that 'phone call, will you, son?"
So I steps over and takes down the receiver. "It's the buildin' superintendent," says I "He wants to speak to you, sir."
"See what he wants," says Old Hickory
And I expect I was grinnin' some when I turns around after gettin' the message. "He says somebody has been shootin' golf balls at the south side of the buildin' all the forenoon," says I, "and that seventeen panes of glass have, been smashed. He wants to know what he shall do."