Knowles rolled the ball within a few feet of the hole, and Ernest, who, in consequence of Bouldon’s miss, was now allowed to strike, guided by his correct and well-practised eye, sent it clean into the hole, to the great delight of Macgreggor, who was pleased at having so apt a pupil.
Bracebridge now took his ball out of the hole, and struck it on. Macgreggor, however, was not long in catching him up, but Tom Bouldon was a great drawback to Macgreggor. He had not calmness enough to play the game well. He was continually missing the ball, or sending it beyond the hole, while Macgreggor, and Bracebridge, and Ellis especially, always considered how far it was necessary to send it, and took their measures accordingly.
Few games show the character of a person more than does that of golf, although all, more or less, afford some index to those who are attentively looking on. A boy, when playing, should endeavour to keep a watch over himself as much as on all other occasions, and he should especially endeavour to practise that very important duty of restraining his temper. Boys are too apt to fancy that they may say and do what they like, and often they abuse each other, and make use of language of which, it is to be hoped, they would be ashamed when out of the playground.
While the game was going on, and drawing near its completion, Bracebridge being ahead, a number of boys came out to see what was going forward. From their remarks, there was not much chance of the game becoming popular. There was not enough activity and bustle in it to please them. It was not to be compared for a moment with cricket, or rackets, or football, or even hockey.
Among the spectators were Blackall and Dawson, and the new fellow, Barber. His eye was ranging over the heath. Ernest and his party were then at a distance, playing up towards the last hole.
“Well, to my mind, after all, it is only like a game of marbles, played with a little leathern ball instead of a stone, and a stick instead of one’s knuckles,” sneered Blackall.
Dawson echoed the sentiment. “How that fellow Bracebridge can find anything to like in it, I do wonder,” he remarked. “In Macgreggor, who has been brought up to it, it is a different affair.”
“Hollo! who is that fellow?” exclaimed Barber, as the players drew near.
“Which do you mean?” said Dawson. “That natty-looking fellow, who is taking the ball? He’s a genius; and if you were to take him at his own valuation, there is not such another fellow in the school, or perhaps in the world.”
Dawson never lost an opportunity of having a fling at Bracebridge, who had passed so rapidly by him in the school, and had beat him at all their games.